The Pets at Primrose Cottage

by Sheila Norton

  Matt nudged me. ‘I’m rather hoping you might decide that for yourself. Before too long. There’s a space in the wardrobe in Bilberry Cottage just waiting for you to fill it up with your things. And a space in the bed next to me,’ he added in a whisper, making me shiver, ‘just waiting for you to warm it up.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ I whispered back. ‘We’re not even … officially … together yet.’

  ‘Soon fix that.’ He grinned.

  ‘What be you two lovebirds whispering about now?’ Annie interrupted us, to a chorus of wolf-whistles, making me redden and giggle.

  And so the welcome-home tea party went on, for another hour or so, with more people coming in, and everyone chatting and laughing and hugging me. It was overwhelming. It was wonderful.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ Matt said suddenly, as Kieran was doing the rounds with slices of Annie’s special chocolate cake. ‘You did read my story in the Chronicle, did you?’

  ‘Of course I did!’ I said without thinking.

  ‘How?’

  He looked at me, waiting, smiling gently, and the café seemed to fall silent around us. My parents were watching me. Kieran paused at our table and touched my arm, giving me a little nod of understanding.

  I looked down at the table. There had been enough lies. It was time to be honest now – about everything. ‘Well, OK, my sister read it to me,’ I said, my voice shaking a little. ‘How did you know—?’

  ‘Haven’t you told him, Emma?’ Mum said. ‘There’s no shame in it.’

  ‘Oh, isn’t there, Mum?’ I shot back at her. ‘No shame, in not being able to read properly, at my age? How do you think that makes me feel? Knowing what a failure I am, how disappointed you and Dad have always been in me?’

  ‘We’re not … we never were …’ she protested.

  ‘Really? You never compared me to Kate? Never thought how strange it was to have one clever, perfect twin and one complete and utter waste of space like me? Sorry, I don’t believe you.’

  There were some mutterings around us. People suddenly pretended to find their scones and cakes very interesting. The afternoon felt spoilt, and as usual it was my fault.

  ‘Sorry,’ I began, looking down at the table again. But my dad had already begun to speak, loudly and clearly enough for everyone to hear.

  ‘We were never disappointed in you, Emma. We were worried. Everything was so hard for you, having dyslexia. All the extra lessons, all the private tuition and extra homework – it helped, but only a bit. You were fed up with it all by the time you left primary school, and who could blame you? You just gave up, refused to try any more. You compared yourself to Kate, we didn’t. We just worried about you. It was your behaviour we were disappointed in, not you. Never you. We loved you. We’ll always love you, no matter what you do – but right now, we’re proud of you.’

  ‘Proud?’ I whispered, tears starting in my eyes.

  ‘Couldn’t be prouder,’ Mum said, grabbing both of my hands in hers. ‘Starting again, the way you have here, after that idiot rock singer caused you so much heartache? Making your own way, making yourself so popular here in Crickleford? Of course we’re proud of you.’

  ‘Running her own business has been an amazing achievement for someone who can’t read or write very well,’ Mary said, smiling at me.

  ‘You knew?’ I said. I looked around the room. Everyone was nodding. ‘You all knew?’

  ‘Sorry, Emma, but it was fairly obvious,’ Lauren said apologetically. ‘You always made excuses not to read to Holly. And, well, I saw your spelling. When you wrote on the shopping list.’

  ‘You borrowed children’s books out of the library,’ young Josh said, his cheeks red with the embarrassment of talking to me.

  ‘And the way you got so defensive about university,’ Kieran joined in, ‘it just didn’t ring true that you were too stupid, or too busy doing something more important than getting a good education. I guessed it must be something like this.’

  ‘I thought at first you were just not very good at spelling,’ Mary said gently. ‘I noticed the notes you were making when you came to me for help setting up the business. But then … all those fibs about reading Shakespeare …’

  I blushed, mortified, but she was laughing. ‘It was naughty of me to try to catch you out, but I just wanted you to admit to me that you couldn’t read properly, so that I could try to help you. And then, when it was so obvious you couldn’t read that letter about your cat, when it was plainly so important to you – I felt so sorry for you.’ She paused. Everyone had fallen silent. ‘But from that letter,’ she went on, ‘I realised you’d lived in America and wanted to keep it a secret for some reason, and I respected that. I knew I had to back off.’ She laughed. ‘Anyway, I’d never even heard of Candice Nightingale! I’m not interested in celebrities.’

  ‘Nor am I any more!’ I said with feeling. There was a ripple of laughter in the café. I clasped Mary’s hands, trying to find words to thank her for everything. For caring. For understanding. For keeping my secret. But Matt was already speaking.

  ‘I guessed about your reading and writing when I saw you staring at messages on your phone as if they were written in Greek,’ he said. ‘And the ones you sent me, not that there were enough of them—’ He winked at me. ‘Well, I could understand them but sometimes they were … kind of weird. In a nice way!’ he added quickly, squeezing my hand.

  ‘But I use predictive text!’ I said crossly. ‘Surely spelling doesn’t matter so much, with spell checks on computers and so on.’

  ‘That’s true to some degree,’ Mary said. ‘But sometimes they do get it wrong. The wrong too or the wrong their and so on.’ I looked at her blankly and she gave me another smile. ‘I could try and help you, Emma. I’ve had lots of experience with adult literacy. I promise I won’t expect you to read Shakespeare.’

  I smiled, and she grinned back. ‘Sorry,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘It was my fault for not being honest,’ I said. ‘And thanks for offering to help me, but … I think I’m happy just being a pet sitter.’ I looked around the room. ‘If you all still want me?’

  ‘Of course we do!’ everyone chorused.

  I took a deep breath and turned back to my parents. I owed them an apology. They’d suffered enough because of me.

  ‘I’m sorry for snapping at you. And for being such a worry to you when I was growing up,’ I said. ‘And since. With Shane, and the paparazzi and the publicity and everything.’ They were both shaking their heads as if none of it mattered. ‘And thank you,’ I went on, ‘for everything. You’ve got no idea how much it means to me, you being here, meeting all my friends.’ I spread my hands, looking around the café, and then back at them both. My voice cracked as I finished: ‘Hearing you say you were proud of me. It’s what I’ve dreamed of, my whole life.’

  We hugged goodbye soon after that. Matt had booked them a room at The Riverboat Inn, and they were going to leave early the next morning for the long drive back.

  ‘You’ll still come home to us for Christmas, won’t you?’ Mum asked me anxiously.

  ‘Of course I will.’ I glanced at Matt and added: ‘Will it be OK to bring a Plus One?’

  ‘Absolutely!’ she said calmly, with a smile at him. ‘Our family has needed a friendly journalist on our side for a long time.’

  ‘Actually, it might be Plus Two,’ he said, suddenly giving me an anxious look. ‘There’s something I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet.’

  ‘Oh God – what?’ I stared at him. Was this where he’d tell me he had a wife or child hidden away somewhere?

  ‘I’ve bought a dog,’ he said. ‘I needed someone to keep me company after you left. She’s really sweet and friendly, but the thing is, it seems our local pet sitter won’t be here over Christmas, so I’d have to bring her with us. Would you mind?’ he asked Mum.

  ‘Of course not. We all love dogs.’

  ‘I wonder if Kate will bring their puppy round. They could be comp
any for each other,’ I said. ‘How exciting that you’ve got a dog!’ I added, putting my arms round Matt. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Candice,’ he said – and then laughed at the look on my face and said. ‘Just joking. It’s Lola. It just seemed to suit her somehow.’

  ‘Lola. Aw, I can’t wait to meet her!’

  After my parents had gone, I looked around the room again at all these people, these Crickleford people who had taken me into their hearts, and trusted Primrose Pets with their animals, despite the stories and lies I’d told them, not even caring who I really was, or whether I could read or write properly. Maybe in time I would accept Mary’s offer. Maybe one day, with her help, I’d be able to read Matt’s new column in the Chronicle for myself. I could even write a letter back to Shane’s grandmother in the States to ask how Albert was. I smiled as I thought how much she might appreciate that.

  But, for now, all I wanted to do was to curl up with Matt on the sofa in Bilberry Cottage and dream of a future together – a future I’d never have dared to dream of when I walked away from my life as Shane Blue’s vacuous little arm-candy.

  ‘It was stupid of me, thinking I could hide the dyslexia,’ I said, but he put his fingers on my lips and shook his head.

  ‘Why does it even matter?’ he said. ‘I love you just as you are, Emma Nightingale.’

  And as he finally kissed me, another cheer went up around us from everyone in Ye Olde Tea Shoppe.

  ‘Gawd love us!’ Annie exclaimed.

  ‘Get yerselves a room!’ someone joked.

  ‘Good idea,’ Matt said, looking into my eyes. ‘How about coming back to Bilberry Cottage with me now? Lola’s waiting to meet you.’

  I linked arms with him and, waving goodbye to all our friends, we headed out into the dark of the winter afternoon. I had a definite feeling I was going to be spending a lot of time at Bilberry Cottage from now on. And, much as I loved animals, it wasn’t all going to be about meeting Lola!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  With grateful thanks once again to Sharon Whelan, this time for her advice about rescuing a pony. And to Sue Viney for her first-hand knowledge about keeping house rabbits! And as always, to everyone at Ebury for all their hard work in bringing my stories to the readers.

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  Make sure you’ve read Sheila’s other novels …

  Sam has always dreamed of working with animals …

  But her receptionist job in a London vets is not hitting the spot. Unsure whether a busy city life is for her, she flees to her Nana Peggy’s idyllic country village.

  But despite the rolling hills and its charming feel, life in Hope Green is far from peaceful. On first meeting Joe, the abrupt and bad-tempered local vet, Sam knows she must get him on side, but that is easier said than done …

  With her dream close enough to touch, will she get there or will events conspire against her?

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  Ebury Press, an imprint of Ebury Publishing

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  Copyright © Sheila Norton, 2018

  Cover design and illustration: Head Design

  Sheila Norton has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

  First published in the UK by Ebury Press in 2018

  www.penguin.co.uk

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 9781785034213