Philip couldn’t believe he was making such a mess of things. He had returned from London with high hopes for the future. Suddenly it all seemed to have evaporated. Rachel wasn’t speaking to him. Her parents, although polite as ever, were clearly hurt. And despite the fact he had been looking forward to having the house to himself again, it felt lonely, no longer like home.
He took Bill and Ben for a walk through the early morning mist to try and clear his head. It was beautiful, with the leaves of the trees turning from rich greens to golden yellows and fiery reds, but his heart wasn’t able to appreciate it.
He couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling that everything was going wrong. And the more he thought about it, the more all his – and the Collingtons’ – difficulties seemed to involve Freddy Smith. There was only one thing for it, to beard the man himself and sort it out.
He was going to take Bill and Ben with him but remembered at the last minute the farmer’s strange dislike of dogs. He hugged them and apologised for leaving them behind and set off alone.
Inshie Heights Farm was set higher on the hillside than the Collingtons’ cottage, which was hidden from it by a line of trees. It was a medium-sized building, tidily maintained but without a homely touch.
Philip parked his 4x4 at the front of the house and rang the bell. There was no response. He went around to the kitchen door and knocked. Still no response. Then he paused and listened to what might have been the sound of a quad bike. Yes, and it was becoming louder. Freddy must have been out in the fields but with a bit of luck he was on his way back. Philip strode to the foot of the track and waited.
Freddy would have been able to see him for a while as he descended the rough road, but he made no gesture of greeting. When he reached him he paused the vehicle but didn’t turn off the engine. ‘Aye? What can I do for you?’
‘I wondered if we could have a chat?’
The farmer narrowed his eyes, displeased. Philip waited. He could be patient.
‘I don’t know that I’ve anything to say to you. Unless it’s about the car accident. Did they ever find the blighter that bashed you?’
Philip had forgotten all about that. He had other things on his mind. He said reluctantly, ‘It’s not about that, although I should have thanked you for your help. And yes, they did find the other vehicle. The police had a word with the man and he decided to come clean, so I can claim off his insurance, not my own. A very good outcome.’
‘That’s the way it should be,’ said Freddy, mellowing slightly. He nodded. ‘Come on down, if you want to talk.’ He pressed the accelerator and swung the quad bike away, not waiting for an answer.
Philip followed him more slowly, wondering now what exactly it was he wanted to say.
Freddy didn’t take him into the house. He stowed the quad in a lean-to shed and then leant on the wall beside it.
‘You must be missing your daughter; she’s away at university now, isn’t she?’ Philip said, trying to break the ice.
‘I manage fine. Nice to have a bit of peace, no more of this running backwards and forwards into town.’
‘Yes, peace can be good,’ said Philip encouragingly. ‘That’s why I moved to this part of the country myself. Lovely quiet corner, almost unknown compared to the Highlands.’ Freddy had begun to move off now, closing one of the doors to a barn, checking on the contents of another. Philip followed him.
‘Whether it’s quiet or not depends on your neighbours, doesn’t it?’ said Freddy eventually.
This was just the opening Philip was hoping for. ‘I would have said you’re very lucky with your neighbours. A very nice family, the Collingtons.’
‘I’ve nothing against the family,’ said Freddy grudgingly. ‘But that damn silly business they’re running there is the problem. It’s an eyesore, not to mention the noise.’
Philip remembered listening as he waited for Freddy to appear. He hadn’t heard a single bark. ‘I’d say an eyesore is the last thing it is,’ he said mildly. ‘I think the whole set up is very attractive. I really don’t know what you’ve got against them.’
Freddy glared now, his dark face taking on an even grimmer light. ‘I came here to get away from things, didn’t I? Came to make a new start for Gemma and me. The last thing I needed was something like that on my doorstep, reminding me.’
‘Reminding you?’ Philip was puzzled.
‘Everyone thinks those Collingtons are so wonderful, taking in rescue dogs, joining every committee in town. I can see you’re taken with them too, aren’t you? Especially that pretty young woman. You’d better watch out for her, always meddling where she’s not wanted.’
‘Rachel doesn’t meddle,’ said Philip, wondering if that was quite true. Freddy had moved off again, towards the slurry pit this time, and he hurried after him. ‘Look, I’m sorry you don’t really like them as neighbours. But surely that’s no reason to cause them difficulties? They’re just trying to make a living like anyone else. And Maggie Collington hasn’t been well. It’s a shame if she has to worry.’
‘Nobody worries about me, do they?’ said Freddy, raising his voice now. He straightened a rusty sign that said ‘Danger’ with an abrupt gesture. ‘The Collingtons have got each other. Nobody cares that I lost my wife, for no reason, no reason at all.’
‘I’m sorry …’ said Philip, stunned by this turn in the conversation.
‘Everyone’s sorry, they all say they’re sorry, but that doesn’t help, does it? I just don’t want to be reminded, don’t you understand? I can’t bear to be reminded!’ Freddy took hold of Philip’s arm, shaking him quite violently as though this would make him understand.
Philip took a step back and suddenly found the ground beneath his feet giving way. They were on the very edge of the slurry pit, and Philip had his eyes on the other man, not on where he was standing. He could feel himself slipping and then he was falling down, down, towards the dark liquid and that awful stench.
Rachel had gone to the dog rescue centre near Dumfries with a box of food from her mother. Clients quite often brought their dogs’ own food to the kennels and just as often declined to take any surplus away. The Collingtons passed this on to the rescue centre, along with, Rachel suspected, quite a bit they had paid for themselves.
Rachel always enjoyed a visit to the centre, situated as it was on the slopes above the Solway Firth. The views were spectacular but most of all she loved the people who ran the place and the wonderful spirit that kept them going with very little funding and far too many unwanted dogs.
She had a cup of tea with Faye and agreed to ask her mum to bake some cakes for the upcoming Bring and Buy sale. ‘We really need some more income,’ said the older woman with a sigh. ‘Not that I ever know quite how much money we have coming in and going out. I wish I was better with the book-keeping.’
‘Maybe I can help,’ said Rachel. The centre was too far from the kennels for her to do much practical work for them, but this was something she could do in her own time. ‘Strange as it seems, I quite enjoy tidying up people’s accounts. I’m doing Mum and Dad’s, and I’ve just agreed to have a look at the books of an artist who lives in Boroughbie, Rupert Randall. Why don’t I see if I can do something with yours, too?’
‘That would be wonderful. But we couldn’t pay you …’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to. It’ll be my contribution to the centre. And to tell you the truth, it’s something I enjoy. It’s amazing how satisfying it is to put everything neatly in the right column.’
Faye looked at her as if she was mad. Maybe she was. But it was true, Rachel really did enjoy this sort of work. She liked things to be tidy, organised. It was a shame her life couldn’t be so easily sorted out.
Before she left, Faye invited her to walk around the kennels to see what dogs they had in.
‘I’m in a bit of a hurry …’ began Rachel. That wasn’t her real reason. Her real reason was that it broke her heart to see all the various waifs and strays, some desperate for affection,
others cowering at the back of their cages. It made her want to take them all home, and she couldn’t do that.
‘Come on, we’ve got a couple of new darlings in you won’t have seen before.’ Faye was good at not taking no for an answer. ‘We’ve yet another Staffie, see, in the first kennel there? But I think we’ve got a home for him. But this next one is a very sad case. This is Sally. She’s a collie-cross. You’re a sweetie, aren’t you, darling?’
The dog, looking rather like an undersized collie, slunk along the floor of her kennel until she was within touching distance of Faye’s outstretched hand. She turned her head to Rachel and showed the most amazing eyes, one brown and one bright blue.
‘She’s beautiful,’ she gasped.
‘Do you think so? Not everyone likes her. Very unusual looking, isn’t she? Her owner died a couple of months ago and it seems she was passed from one member of the family to another, but nobody really wanted her. By the time she ended up here she’d become very confused.’ She fondled the dog’s shaggy head. Sally’s mouth fell open and her tongue lolled out, making her look extremely silly.
‘Can we let her out?’ asked Rachel. ‘She’s gorgeous. I’d love to give her a cuddle.’
‘Of course.’ Faye unlatched the mesh door and gently encouraged the collie out. She watched Rachel and Sally greet each other with cautious interest. She nodded approvingly. ‘She’ll make a great companion for someone who knows how to deal with slightly, er, neurotic dogs. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea and she might be quite difficult to rehome. I don’t suppose you’d like to foster her for a few days and see how the two of you get on?’
‘Take her home?’ said Rachel. ‘Me?’ Then she met the dog’s mismatched eyes, and was lost.
It was much later than she had planned when Rachel left the kennels. There was a lot of paperwork to see to, but as each step was taken her excitement grew. She had wanted a dog of her own for so long, and now it was really happening. She hugged Sally to her, but not too hard, the dog didn’t like that. Of course, officially this was just a temporary foster placement, but Rachel knew she would never let this sweetheart go. She needed someone to love, and so did Sally.
On her way home, Rachel’s thoughts turned, as they so often did, to Philip Milligan. He would no doubt think Sally no match for his beautiful pedigree dogs. Not that she was likely to see him. Why, she wondered, had he turned against her and the kennels? She couldn’t understand it. He had tried to speak to her a few times since the party but she had managed to find a reason not to take his calls. She was too hurt by what he had done, siding with Freddy Smith against them.
And then, as she rounded one of the last corners she glanced up to Freddy’s farm. She didn’t know what made her do it. You could glimpse a corner of the house and part of the yard from this point on the road, but she didn’t normally have much interest in what was happening at Inshie Heights. Today what she saw caused her to brake, hard. That was Philip’s 4x4 parked in the farm yard!
What on earth was he doing there? Without pausing to think, Rachel swung her own small car off the road and up the farm track. It was about time she found out what was going on. If Philip and Freddy were plotting something she was sure it wouldn’t be good news for Collington Boarding Kennels.
The dog in the back gave a little whimper at the sudden change of direction and Rachel felt bad. ‘Sorry about that, darling,’ she whispered. ‘Not far from home. We won’t be here long, I can promise you that.’
When she drew up in the farmyard there was no one in sight. She decided to leave Sally in the car, but wound down one window to give her some fresh air. She knocked loudly on the door, but there was no answer there. Then she heard the sound of voices from beyond one of the barns and set off in that direction.
At first she walked slowly, but there was something about the tone of the exchange that caused her to increase her pace. She was almost running when she rounded the corner to see Freddy Smith standing on a ridge that surrounded some kind of pit, pushing a stick down into the depths. What was he doing? She hurried nearer. He couldn’t be pushing Philip in, could he?
‘What’s going on,’ she said, covering the last few yards at a run. ‘What on earth …?’
The smell was almost overpowering and the sight equally horrifying. Philip was floundering in a pool of slurry. Freddy was reaching down with a long rake. ‘Take hold of it, man! Now! Take hold of it!’
Philip’s expression was vacant and he made only a slight gesture towards the implement.
‘Why doesn’t he take it?’ asked Rachel, dismayed.
‘Get back!’ shouted Freddy to her, taking in her presence for the first time.
Rachel didn’t obey. ‘What’s happening? Can I help? Oh no, he’s going under …’
Instead of moving towards the floundering man Freddy Smith jumped down off the ridge and began to pull Rachel further away. He looked breathless and rather pink.
Rachel struggled to go back. ‘We can’t leave him …’
‘Listen!’ said Freddy, taking great gulps of air. ‘This is really dangerous. Listen right now. It’s the fumes that have overcome him and we risk them doing the same to us. I’m going to have to go in and pull him out, it’s the only way. But I can’t guarantee the fumes won’t get me as well, if I’m not quick. I’m going to tie this rope round me and you’re going to take the other end, do you hear?’ As he spoke he was looping a rope around his waist. He made another loop which he kept in his hand and then passed the rest of it to Rachel. ‘You hold on to this and help me out if you can. Under no circumstances are you to come over the ridge and you’re absolutely not to go near the slurry, no matter what happens. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’ Rachel understood all too well. She felt sick with panic. What if Philip had already gone under? What if Freddy couldn’t get him out?
Despite Freddy’s warning she had to go half-way up the ridge, so that she could see what was happening. She knew all about the dangers of slurry pits. Two local farm workers had been overcome by fumes and died not so very long ago. It had been all over the papers. What Freddy was doing, going down into that dark morass, was madness, but she didn’t try for a moment to stop him.
Philip’s expression was now completely glazed but he hadn’t quite gone under. His head and one hand were still visible. Freddy slid down into the liquid with a loud gloop and made his way with difficulty towards the other man. Rachel held her breath as he got hold of one hand and pulled. Philip made no effort to help him. Freddy pulled harder and slowly the other man’s body was drawn towards the edge.
Then, instead of pulling him straight out, Freddy looped the extra length of rope around his shoulders. ‘Can’t be sure I can hold him,’ he called back to Rachel, and already his voice sounded fainter. His hands shook as he tightened the knot. Rachel wanted to scream at him to hurry, but she remembered what he had said about keeping back and dipped back from the ridge again to take a gulp of clean air.
‘Now! Pull!’ shouted Freddy, and she did.
She never knew quite how, but with Freddy pulling the dead weight of Philip’s body, and Rachel pulling him, they dragged the two of them out of the stinking pool, up the side of the pit, and away.
Freddy collapsed for a moment when he realised they had made it, and then pushed himself upright again. He turned back to examine the other man. ‘He’s breathing, at least. Call an ambulance now, I’ll …’
‘No, you call an ambulance. I know how to do resuscitation.’ Rachel had already untied the rope to release Freddy and now turned to Philip. He was lying on his back, gazing blankly at the sky, his face an unnatural red. He was breathing, but far too shallowly. She prayed that she was remembering this right and began the process of artificial respiration.
And gradually, gradually, Philip started to take in more air. His colour improved and his eyes seemed almost to focus. ‘Rachel …?’ he said softly, looking confused.
‘You’re going to be OK,’ she said with a sob. ‘Come o
n, let’s move you further away. Goodness, you gave me a fright.’
When Freddy returned to them they were sitting on the side of a stone trough. Rachel had splashed water over Philip’s face and hands, and now she wasn’t sure which of them looked or smelt the worst.
‘He’s OK,’ she said to Freddy, although he could see that for himself.
‘Thank goodness. The paramedics are coming anyway. They’ll need to check him over. It was a pretty close thing.’ He shuddered.
‘How are you?’
‘Fine. In need of a bath, that’s all.’ He sat down beside them and they remained slumped in silence for a few moments.
It was Freddy who first noticed the sound of a barking dog. ‘What’s that?’
For a moment Rachel couldn’t think. ‘Oh, that’s Sally. She’s my … new dog.’ She eyed Freddy doubtfully. ‘She’s in the car, she’ll be fine.’
After a moment Freddy rose and said purposefully, ‘She sounds like she doesn’t want to be alone. I’ll go and bring her over.’
Rachel watched him in amazement.
‘You’ve got a dog?’ said Philip, frowning.
‘Yes. A collie-cross, a rescue dog. She’s not nearly as pretty as Bill and Ben but I couldn’t resist. I took one look and fell in love with her.’
‘Looks like you’ll have your hands full,’ he said, watching Freddy lead the highly strung animal towards them. Sally was so delighted to be outside she was dashing around madly, doing her utmost to tangle Freddy in her lead. Rachel waited for him to snap at her. He merely handed over the leash.
‘Here, you hold on to her. I’ll go and get us all something to drink.’
Rachel wasn’t sure what had happened, but something seemed to have changed Freddy Smith into a completely new man. She didn’t have time to ponder that now. She concentrated on supporting Philip, who was still a little woozy, and thanking God that he was alive.
Philip was taken to hospital for a check-up but quickly released. He was pronounced ‘very lucky’ and told to take things easy for a couple of days, but that there were unlikely to be any consequences in the long run.
Rachel's Coming Home Page 16