Summer Secrets at Duck Pond Cottage (Duck Pond Cottage #2)

Chapter 1

1

Where was the best place to make one of the most important phone calls of your life? Finn McTaggart shielded his eyes against the flaming June sunshine as he scanned the smallholding, which was comprised of a scattering of stone outbuildings encircled by fields in the middle of the Wiltshire countryside. The mobile signal was notoriously bad at Duck Pond Rescue. The animal sanctuary was both his home and his place of work, but it was better outside than indoors, and the higher up you were, the stronger it got.

The landline in reception was the obvious place but Finn had already discounted it because of the risk of interruptions. Reception was also currently the home of Mr Spock, a very talkative parrot who was prone to yelling out swear words or mimicking fire alarms if the mood took him. Finn definitely couldn’t risk Mr Spock yelling obscenities in the background.

He frowned. He’d have to use his mobile. Holding it up in front of him so he could see when one bar changed to two, he strolled around the yard. Past the feed store, the haybarn and the horses’ paddock on his left. Past the cattery and the kennel block on his right, then on past the small pink caravan opposite the wooden pub-style picnic table where volunteers often paused for a cuppa and a chat. The field nearest the road where the ex-battery hens roamed sloped upwards. That was a possibility.

Ideally, he’d have got into his car and driven up to the village. There was plenty of signal up there, but Jade Foster, who was both his fiancée and the founder and owner of Duck Pond Rescue, was out on an urgent rescue mission. He’d promised to stay on site until she got back.

This call couldn’t wait any longer though. He’d have to make the best of it. Sighing, he climbed over the five-bar gate into the hen field. The sun felt hot on his face and his fingers were slippery on the cool metal bars, but he knew it wasn’t just heat. It was excitement, anticipation and plain old terror that were making his hands sweat and his heart beat out of his chest.

He’d felt like this on and off for the last few days, which had been a whirlwind since Eleanor Smythe, owner of Artline, a top London agency, had contacted him. ‘I’d like to talk to you about an art exhibition that’s happening in Salisbury,’ had been her opening line, and Finn had been so stunned at this out-of-the-blue phone call that all he’d been able to stammer in reply was, ‘Is this a wind-up?’

‘It is not a wind-up, Mr McTaggart. I’ve seen some of your work. I’m interested in seeing more. I don’t have time to discuss this now. I’ll call you on Monday.’

‘Um, great, thanks… I’ve—’ But she’d already disconnected. Yesterday had been Monday. Despite the fact he’d carried his phone everywhere with the volume turned up full, she hadn’t called. There had been no messages, no missed calls.

Then this morning, he’d had a voicemail, saying she’d tried to call but hadn’t been able to reach him and maybe he’d do her the courtesy of returning the call within the hour if that wasn’t too much trouble. There had been a distinct tone of ‘This is your last chance, my patience is running out’ on the voicemail, which had come in just after Jade had left.

Finn had hoped against hope that she’d be back within the hour, but she wasn’t here yet. And this felt like his last chance.

He walked swiftly up the slight slope of the hen field towards the coops at the top end. The signal changed to two bars on his phone and then flickered. Two bars would have to do. If the worst came to the worst, he could arrange to call Ms Smythe at a more convenient time. He sat on the flat roof part of the coop with his feet swinging about a foot from the ground.

It was a great spot to concentrate too. Nothing but the fresh summer breeze rustling through the trees, the distant sound of a tractor and the soft clucking of a few curious hens. It was beautiful up here – an oasis of peace.

He took a deep breath, plugged in his wired headset, which was better at blocking out external noise than his wireless earbuds, and dialled the number. It rang and rang. Finn had just started to wonder if he was too late when a brusque voice answered.

‘Eleanor Smythe.’

‘It’s Finn. Er, Finn McTaggart. I’m just returning your call.’

‘Ah, yes. Finn.’ Her voice changed from brusque to honeyed sweetness. ‘I was just thinking about you. I’m glad we’ve finally connected. I’d like to arrange a meet, but if we could just exchange a few details. Is now a good time?’

‘It’s a great time. Thank you.’ His heart thudded against his ribcage. She’d been thinking about him. The top agent in London had been thinking about him. It was unbelievable. It was a dream come true – no, it was beyond his wildest dreams. If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be talking to Eleanor Smythe about his work, he’d never have believed them. He hadn’t even really thought he could paint back then. His art had been a hobby for so long that he still suffered from imposter syndrome when anyone told him he was good.

‘We’ll start with some background information if we may.’

‘Of course. What would you like to know?’

Finn became aware that a brown hen had fluttered up onto the roof to join him. She put her head on one side and studied him with round beady eyes. A couple of her mates were heading towards him too, running purposefully across the grass. Humans meant food to Jade’s flock of ex-battery hens. They were all so tame they ran to greet her when they saw her, knowing she was the bearer of tasty treats. They weren’t usually quite so tame around him.

‘First of all,’ Eleanor Smythe was saying, ‘maybe you could tell me if…’

Finn felt a violent tug at his ears and everything went silent. ‘What the…?’ He was so shocked that he swore loudly, not sure for a moment what had happened.

It took a few seconds to compute. The brown hen who’d been sitting beside him was now racing across the field, her wings flapping for extra speed, with his headset dangling from her beak. His mobile, still attached, was bouncing across the long grass in her wake. Finn leaped off the hen house and set off in hot pursuit. But the hen had the advantage of wings and she wasn’t stopping. Several other hens had joined in the chase. They were clearly of the opinion their mate had something worth stealing.

Spaghetti, Finn realised in horror. Jade gave them spaghetti as a treat and they loved it. The hen must have mistaken his white headset for a piece of dangling pale spaghetti, her very favourite food, and there was no way on earth she was giving up her prize.

* * *

Jade was driving along opposite the perimeter fence of Duck Pond Rescue when she saw something really odd going on in her top field. What on earth? A man – Finn, she realised, as she slowed the car for a proper look – was chasing a flock of hens across the grass.

There was one out in front and it looked like Finn was gaining on her. There were a lot behind him too. As she watched the curious race unfold, she saw Finn launch himself into the air and rugby tackle the hen. Oh, my goodness. Jade couldn’t believe her eyes. Was this what went on when she was out? What on earth was he doing?

Making a split-second decision, she pulled over to the grass verge, bumped one wheel onto it, leapt out of her car and slammed the door behind her. She ran across the road, and then along the perimeter of her field, which was stock fenced, until she reached the gate. A few seconds later she was over it and charging across the field. From what she could see, Finn had caught the hen but he hadn’t got up; he was sitting down in the field, fiddling with something, but he had his back to her so she couldn’t see what.

Before she reached him, he let out a yell. A mixture of rage and frustration by the sound of it as he bent over something in his lap. At least he’d let go of the hen, Jade saw with relief. The rest of the flock had begun to scatter away across the field, some shaking out their feathers in that way they did when they’d just had a dust bath, or an encounter with a human they didn’t much like.

Jade was panting by the time she got close enough to shout. It was a hot day and maybe she wasn’t as fit as she thought. Finn didn’t seem to hear her. He was now busy talking into his phone, which was pressed to his ear, so she shouted again. ‘Finn…!’ and finally he turned. His expression of surprise and shock would have been comical if she’d had the faintest idea of the context.

‘Jade.’ He looked at her sheepishly as he lowered his phone and brushed bits of dried grass from his cut-off jeans. ‘I didn’t know you were back.’

‘Clearly.’ She caught her breath and looked him up and down. ‘So. Er… are you going to tell me what’s going on?’

‘Sure.’ His grey eyes were guarded.

‘Is that hen all right?’

‘The hen is absolutely fine.’

Jade nodded. Finn was her soulmate. She loved the bones of this man and although they hadn’t known each other long – they’d met fourteen months ago when he’d started working for her – she would have trusted him with her life. She also trusted him with the lives of her animals. Every last one of the four-legged and feathered creatures that she’d given a home to were just as important – or in some cases more important – than the humans in her life.

No doubt Finn had a good explanation for what she’d just witnessed. Although she couldn’t for the life of her think what it might be.

She let out a breath. ‘Shall we head back to the house and you can get cleaned up?’

‘Get cleaned up?’

‘Yeah.’ She suppressed a smile. ‘You’ve got something that looks very much like chicken poop in your ear.’