Summer at Hope Meadows: the perfect feel-good summer read (Animal Ark Revisited Book 1)

by Lucy Daniels

  Mandy shrugged. ‘I’ve always been better with animals,’ she said.

  Susan lifted her son onto her lap and he put his arms around her neck. ‘I’m definitely better with children,’ she said with a grin.

  ‘Does Jack go to nursery with you?’ Mandy asked.

  ‘He comes with me two days a week,’ Susan replied, glancing down at the small dark head. ‘My mum has him the other two days I work.’

  ‘Does Jack’s dad work in Welford, too?’

  Susan shook her head. ‘He didn’t stick around to see what he was missing.’ She softened the words with a smile, but Mandy was glad when Adam put his head around the back door.

  ‘Did you notice anything we need to order from Thomson’s?’ he asked.

  ‘Our suppliers,’ Mandy explained to Susan. She smiled at her dad. ‘I opened the last box of clotrimazole ear drops this morning and I used a Penrose drain on Marmalade’s ear, so that needs replacing.’

  Adam Hope stepped out of the doorway as Helen zoomed past. ‘Just getting some lunch,’ she said without breaking speed. Adam disappeared back inside to place the order.

  Jack had fallen asleep in Susan’s arms. His mother leaned down to kiss the top of his head, before looking up at Mandy. ‘It’s been great to catch up. It feels as if you’ve been here forever already,’ she said.

  Mandy smiled. ‘It feels as if I’ve never been away.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ Helen called as she closed the clinic door. Mandy watched through the window as the veterinary nurse walked down the path, Lucy trotting at her heels.

  Emily stuck her head around the door that led to the kitchen. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Everything’s fine, Mum.’

  ‘I was just going to make a cup of tea,’ Emily said. ‘Would you like one?’

  Mandy shook her head. ‘I think I might go for a walk.’ Outside the window, the evening sun bathed the fells in golden light. ‘Want to come?’

  Emily shook her head. ‘Not tonight, love.’ Despite her fondness for her mother, Mandy felt relieved. It was so long since she had been able to spend time alone on the moors. Anyway, her mum looked tired again. A cup of tea and a rest would do her more good than a hike.

  ‘Is it okay if I take the Land Rover?’ she asked. She wanted to get right up onto the fell.

  ‘Of course. Your dad’s on call but if anything comes in, he can take the Discovery.’

  Minutes later, Mandy was pulling herself up into the worn driver’s seat of the old Defender. Clipping herself in, she engaged the clutch and was soon climbing the steep lane that led up to the old drove road. The track petered out beside a weathered ring-feeder. Churned earth, now dried, showed where the sheep had come to eat earlier in the year, before the grass had begun to grow in earnest.

  Parking on a smooth patch of grass beside the wall, Mandy opened the door and jumped out onto the clean turf. Silence washed over her after the noise of the Land Rover engine and for a moment she stood still, breathing deeply, filling her lungs as a soft breeze played across her face. It was wonderful to be back.

  The drove road here was little more than a broad strip of short green grass that cut a line through the darker heather, and Mandy struck out along the ancient path, revelling in the peace. She stopped when she noticed a slim brown shape on the turf. At first she had taken it for a stick, until a tiny movement made her study it more carefully. It was an adder warming itself in the last rays of the sun, and Mandy watched until, sensing her presence, it glided off into the undergrowth.

  Mandy took a deep breath and stretched her arms up to the sky, working the tension from her shoulders. In the distance a curlew called, its melancholy voice drawing her eyes upwards to the cool blue sky. Her gaze was arrested by the sight of a bird soaring high above, not the curlew’s white rump and long bill she had expected, but a reddish-brown body with long wings and a forked triangular tail. Mesmerised, she halted, watching as the bird circled overhead. It was a red kite, she realised. Her father had told her a breeding pair had been sighted over the moors. From the brink of UK extinction, Mandy knew they had been reintroduced into Yorkshire in the late 1990s, spreading out from the Harewood Estate near Leeds.

  Unable to resist as the bird soared eastwards, she left the smoothness of the drove road to follow a sheep path through the heather, feeling glad she was wearing sturdy boots and jeans. She deliberately made a little more noise than usual as she brushed through the brittle undergrowth. It might scare away other wildlife, but disturbing an adder unexpectedly was not the end Mandy wanted for her walk.

  It was slower going along the narrow path, but at least the peat was dry underfoot so she could continue to watch the sky. The kite wheeled away from the setting sun and headed down into the valley. Topping a ridge, Mandy saw a patch of woodland below her. The kite made a final curling swoop and disappeared into the trees. Mandy wondered if there was a nesting site in the copse.

  Knowing that she mustn’t disturb a female kite with hatchlings, Mandy picked her way down the slope. As she approached, she scanned the trees for signs of a nest. Sure enough, in the main fork of one of the tallest trees, she spotted a messy heap of twigs with the bird she had seen flying in standing over it. As she watched, the male kite turned, launched and flitted away to find more food for his brood.

  Mandy knew she shouldn’t go any closer to the nest, yet she felt drawn to the woodland. It was a time of day when badgers were likely to leave their setts. If she was lucky, she might see a sow teaching her young to forage in the undergrowth. She turned to her left, away from the tree with the nest, and set off through the springy heather to find a different spot to enter the trees.

  A few minutes later, she had made her way around the edge of the wood and the kites’ nest was out of sight. At the boundary between moorland and copse, there was an old wooden fence inside a mossy dry-stone wall. To Mandy’s delight, she found a series of parallel scratch marks on one of the wooden posts that she knew must have been made by a badger. There were smudgy footprints, too, and a slight depression in the earth that led downhill.

  Mandy followed the tracks, ducking under the low branches. It was cooler among the trees, a welcome change after her hard work trudging through the heather. She paused to look up at the tree canopy, enjoying the sight of the distant blue sky through the leaves, but her head snapped down when she heard a strange mewling bleat from lower down in the valley. What kind of animal was that? She hurried between the tree trunks in the direction of the cry.

  It was a fallow deer: a doe. That much Mandy could see through the tangle of netting that had trapped the delicate creature. Her slim legs flailed as she struggled and there were white rings of terror around the edges of her dark eyes. The deer thrashed even more as Mandy approached. She stopped with her eyes narrowed. She didn’t want to scare the animal to death, but there was no way the deer could disentangle herself. She needed help, the faster the better. Mandy took three long strides to reach the deer and placed her hands on her neck and shoulder.

  ‘It’s okay, you’re okay, it’s okay.’ Her words came out in a sing-song tone as she crouched down beside the frightened animal. The netting was made of thick grey rope, and the deer was so badly tangled that the small efforts that Mandy was able to make while holding her still barely made a difference. She couldn’t reach the deer’s hooves to begin to untwist the knots and, although she had her mobile in her pocket, there was no signal down here. She was going to have to go and fetch help, she thought, but the idea of walking away, leaving the creature to keep thrashing around, was awful. Not only that, Mandy thought, but from what she could see, there could be milk in the doe’s udder. If she had a fawn hidden somewhere, there was a limit to how long it could wait before it needed feeding again.

  With a gasp of relief, she heard and then saw a quad bike bumping towards her through the trees. Half standing up, Mandy lifted a hand and waved. The man sitting astride the vehicle slowed the engine before he a
pproached and drew to a halt several metres away. As he dismounted, Mandy studied him. He wasn’t someone she recognised from the village. Maybe around thirty, with short sandy hair and a face that looked tanned from wind and Yorkshire sun rather than foreign holidays.

  As he turned towards her, his green eyes moved quickly from her face down to the stricken animal and back up again. ‘You look like you could use some help.’

  Mandy nodded. ‘Thank goodness you were passing,’ she said. ‘I was about to go in search of someone.’ The stranger had broad shoulders and strong-looking arms, and he walked towards her with a slow easy gait as if he didn’t want to scare the deer. Mandy couldn’t have conjured a more suitable rescuer if she had tried.

  ‘I’m Jimmy,’ he said and he knelt slowly down beside Mandy. ‘What do you need me to do? Will you hold her while I try to get some of the ropes off?’

  ‘I’m Mandy,’ she said. ‘Have you got a knife to cut through the rope? That would be quicker. I’m worried she might have a fawn.’

  Jimmy looked up at her. ‘Wouldn’t the fawn be nearby? Wouldn’t we see it?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Mandy replied. ‘With fallow deer the fawn often hides in deep undergrowth and the mother only goes back every four hours or so to suckle it. The sooner we can get this poor thing out, the better the chances the little one won’t suffer. Do you have a knife?’ she asked again.

  ‘I do,’ Jimmy admitted, ‘but it would be better if we didn’t have to cut the netting. If you hold her still, I’ll try to get her feet free.’

  He stood up and, before Mandy could stop him, he walked around behind the deer. Instantly the doe lashed out from inside the heap of rope. With a thud, her hind feet connected with his thigh and he jumped back with a cry.

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Mandy was surprised. Jimmy had seemed so confident that she had assumed he would know how to handle wildlife. ‘I should have told you,’ she said. ‘It’s better to work from over here or from the front. Be careful of the head as well, though. Deer have very tough skulls. I’ll try to keep her as still as I can, but she might still swing up enough to hurt you.’

  Jimmy nodded. Even though he must have been bruised, he crouched down in front of the deer and started to unwind the coils around her legs.

  ‘It isn’t working,’ Mandy said a few minutes later. Despite Jimmy’s efforts, the netting was still wound tightly around the doe’s body. ‘You should just cut it. Goodness knows what all this stupid netting is doing here anyway.’

  ‘Actually, it’s mine,’ said Jimmy. He was tugging at a knot and didn’t look up. ‘I’m building a climbing net up to a high-wire skywalk in the trees.’

  Mandy frowned. ‘What on earth is a high-wire skywalk? And why would you want to build one out here?’

  Jimmy met her eyes. ‘It’s going to be part of an Outward Bound centre,’ he explained. ‘I’m renting the land from one of the local farmers.’

  ‘Which farmer?’ Mandy could feel her exasperation rising. Why would any of the locals encourage people to play childish games through this lovely woodland, with its badger tracks and nesting birds? Couldn’t they do that in a field on the edge of a town?

  ‘Sam Western,’ Jimmy replied.

  Mandy felt like growling. She knew Sam Western was one of their most successful landowners and that he was at the cutting edge of organic farming, but he had always been more interested in money than in the kind of countryside preservation Mandy supported. Meanwhile Jimmy was still wrestling with the ropes. He didn’t seem to be making any progress at all.

  ‘For goodness’ sake!’ Mandy hissed. ‘Any fawn will be dead by the time you get its poor mother free. Just give me your knife, will you?’

  Jimmy blinked but handed her the blade, and with efficient movements Mandy began to clip away the remaining netting. ‘In my opinion,’ she went on, ‘Mr Western should have known better than to approve a corporate activity centre out here. Wild animals have more rights than people who want to come and climb about in trees. There are rare birds, too. I saw red kites nesting at the edge of the woodland. They’re just returning after being almost extinct. Don’t you think that’s more important?’

  ‘I know about the kites,’ Jimmy said, his voice even. ‘I’m keeping my obstacles well away from that part of the copse. But the countryside should support people as well as animals. So long as it’s used the right way, there’s no reason to think we’re going to harm anything.’

  Despite his comment about the kites, Mandy felt herself bristling. ‘Will you be teaching your clients the Countryside Code?’ she asked. Did he even know it? He didn’t seem to have much knowledge about the deer they were saving.

  ‘What are you? The Countryside Constabulary?’ He seemed to be laughing at her. Mandy glared for a moment, but he continued to smile. Her movements became tighter as she dissected the awful netting.

  However, as she cut the last of the rope from around the deer’s hind foot and they helped the doe to stand up, she couldn’t help but feel better. They watched in silence as the timid animal trotted away, unsteadily at first and then leaping forward to vanish among the trees.

  It was beginning to get dark. Mandy glanced at the time on her mobile. It was nine thirty. The sun was already hidden behind the fell, though the sky was still bright.

  ‘I have to get home,’ she said. She would just about make it to the Land Rover before it was completely dark, but it would be tight.

  ‘Can I give you a lift?’ Jimmy inclined his head towards the quad bike. ‘You could ride behind me.’ Mandy could see there was a small seat attached to the back of the bike.

  For a moment, she wanted to refuse, but he was looking at her steadily. It really would be better to get home.

  ‘My car is parked up on the moor beside the old drove road,’ she said. ‘If you know where that is.’

  ‘I do.’ His nod was firm.

  With a last glance into the trees where the doe had disappeared, Mandy followed Jimmy and climbed onto the quad behind him. He seemed to know the layout of the land surprisingly well, following a sunken track up onto the fell before dropping down to where the Land Rover was parked. He cut the engine and watched as Mandy walked over to her vehicle.

  ‘Goodbye,’ she said as she opened the door.

  ‘Bye.’ Jimmy nodded again, his green eyes unreadable in the dimming light. Mandy climbed into the Land Rover and turned to wave, but he was already driving away.

  Back at Animal Ark, she found her mum and dad sitting in the lounge. Adam was reading a newspaper and Emily an iPad, her cheeks lit up from the glow of the screen. They both looked up when she walked in.

  ‘Had a good walk?’ Her dad folded his paper and set it down on the floor beside his chair.

  ‘Interesting, to say the least,’ Mandy said. ‘I saw the kites you told me about.’

  Adam beamed. ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mandy. ‘But when I went into the wood behind their nest site, I found a poor fallow deer all wound up in some netting. It was awful.’

  ‘It’s not still there, is it?’ Adam looked alarmed. ‘Do we need to go and sort it out?’

  Mandy could see he was poised to jump up and she stopped him. ‘It’s fine, Dad. Someone was passing on a quad bike and he helped. Jimmy, he said his name was. Luckily he had a knife with him. Although,’ she went on, ‘it was actually his netting. He said he was setting up an Outward Bound centre on part of Sam Western’s land. Have you heard anything about it?’

  Her dad settled back into his chair. ‘Ah yes, I know who you mean,’ he said. ‘I met Jimmy Marsh when I was treating a cow up at Sam’s. He seemed decent enough. Used to be a park ranger up in the Lake District.’

  ‘Really?’ Mandy frowned. ‘He didn’t seem to know much about wildlife for a park ranger.’

  Her dad shrugged. ‘I’ve heard good things about him. We should give him a chance. Some of the locals are already winding themselves up about new types of
tourism. Remember the arguments when Bert Burnley set up the caravans by the river? Those fields have been bought up by a lovely couple called Mr and Mrs Dhanjal and they’ve turned it into a thriving campsite with hot food and everything.’ Mandy could indeed remember the fuss that had been made when Bert first allowed caravans onto his land. Her dad was probably right, but there was something about Jimmy’s attitude that had rankled.

  ‘I’m going to get a cup of tea,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ said Emily. ‘I think I’m going to have an early night.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Adam said to Mandy and they walked together into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He reached out and gave Mandy a hug. ‘Rescuing a deer on your first walk on the moors?’ He winked at her. ‘That’s my girl. I don’t know how the Welford wildlife has survived without you!’

  Chapter Four

  ‘Are you sure you won’t need anything to eat on the journey?’ Emily asked. She and Mandy had just finished a lunch of hummus, salad and crusty bread and were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

  ‘I’m sure,’ Mandy replied. ‘Dad is driving me to York and the train takes less than half an hour. I’ll be eating with Simon when I get back. If I’m held up, I can always buy something.’

  ‘And you’re back two weeks on Saturday.’ Emily added a little extra milk to her mug and stirred it in. ‘It’s been lovely having you here.’

  ‘It’s been great for me, too, Mum,’ Mandy said. She picked up her smartphone to double check the timetable. Not that there would be a problem. There were plenty of trains between York and Leeds.

  Hearing a sigh, Mandy looked up. ‘Is everything all right?’

  There was the briefest of pauses before Emily replied. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘I was just thinking of you and Simon.’ She smiled. ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay with living apart for a while? It’s not easy to keep a relationship going when you don’t see each other so often. You know you don’t have to come back here, don’t you? We can manage, if you don’t want …’