Chapter Twenty-Eight
At first, Imogen thought the shouts and squeals were because the snow was falling, and it looked so beautiful against the picturesque village backdrop, smoke puffing from chimneys and the glowing fairy lights strung across buildings.
But then she realized some of the shouts sounded panicked, and her steps faltered.
Had there been an accident? Some kind of disaster?
She remembered what Dexter had told her about Rae’s crash, his reluctance to let Lucy have a bike.
She wouldn’t have tried to cycle in this, would she?
She grabbed her coat off the hook and hurried towards the centre of the village, blinking constantly against the whirling flakes, and was relieved to see Fiona, head down, locking the door of Hartley Country Apparel.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked.
Fiona turned around. ‘Excellent, you’re here. We need all hands on deck.’
‘For what? Is Dexter OK? Is Lucy?’
Fiona’s expression softened. ‘They’re fine, Imogen sweetheart. It’s Felix – he’s gone missing. Harry and Sophie can’t say when he escaped, but he’s a mostly white goat in a snowstorm, so finding him is getting more difficult by the minute.’
‘Don’t goats survive in sub-zero temperatures?’ Imogen tried to hide her relief. Nobody was hurt, and this was surely a fixable emergency.
‘I expect mountain goats do. However, Felix is a pampered goat, not a mountain goat, and Sophie found his jumper snagged on a low branch.’
Imogen chewed the inside of her cheek to stop herself laughing. ‘So he’s going to be extra cold?’
Fiona narrowed her eyes. ‘When you’ve been here a bit longer, you will realize that Felix’s welfare is all of our problems. And he’s a diva, so he’s probably bleating his sad little heart out, snowed in somewhere and feeling sorry for himself. I would have laughed once, but not any more.’
She spoke so ominously that Imogen felt chastised. ‘I’m sorry. Tell me where to look, and—’
‘Ah, good. Join these three and take the route between Perpendicular Street and the start of the coastal path. It’s on the edge of the estate, so he might well be there. And you don’t even have a hat!’
‘Right, but—’
Fiona hurried off before she could finish, and Imogen turned to find Dexter, Lucy and Artichoke, all suitably attired for a snowstorm. Dexter’s expression was grim, and Lucy was close to tears. Artichoke was bundled up in her arms, only her twitching nose visible.
‘Oh Lucy,’ Imogen said. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Felix is gone!’ Lucy sobbed, and Imogen pulled her and her puppy into a hug.
‘We’re going to find him. He’ll be cold but fine, and then we can warm him up in front of a fire somewhere.’
‘With Artichoke?’
‘Of course with Artichoke. He’ll feel so much better when he’s hanging out with his partner in crime.’
‘They don’t do crime!’ Lucy wailed, and Imogen looked pleadingly at Dexter.
‘It’s OK, Luce, it’s just an expression. Let’s start covering our bit of the village. Are you sure you don’t want to stay inside? You and Artichoke will get really cold out here.’
‘I need to help,’ Lucy said.
This time Dexter looked pleadingly at Imogen, and she realized he didn’t want his daughter out here, when the snow was getting thicker, and she was upset.
Imogen crouched down in front of her. ‘Why don’t you go and see Birdie? I’m sure she’s got a spell or a ritual that will help bring Felix back, and she’ll need you for that.’
‘Really?’ Lucy sniffed. Imogen could see that she was shivering.
‘Absolutely. Come on.’ She took her hand and they walked back to Birdie’s, their progress slowed by the large flakes swirling and settling on the ground.
Birdie had finished her vegetable bundles and was making soup. She called over her shoulder, ‘Everything OK?’
‘Felix has gone missing,’ Imogen rushed out.
‘Oh dear.’ Birdie’s gaze landed on sad, bedraggled Lucy.
‘We need to search, but …’
‘We can do a few things here to help him find his way home,’ Birdie finished. ‘Come on Lucy, bring the pup and let’s go and look at my spell book.’
‘Thank you.’ Dexter’s voice was thick with relief.
‘No problem. Now stay safe, you two. Don’t go near the cliffs or the sea. Keep as warm as you can. Come here for breaks, and hat, Imogen. There aren’t any Pret A Mangers to shelter inside on the coast path.’
‘Course.’ Imogen grabbed her woolly hat, then Dexter’s hand, and they went back out into the snowstorm.
‘Thank you.’ Dexter’s words were muffled as they trudged through the falling snow. ‘Lucy wanted to help so badly, but I don’t want her out in this.’
‘It is pretty epic,’ Imogen said. They had to keep their heads down, eyes focused on the snowy ground while they battled along Perpendicular Street, towards the narrow lane that led to the cliffs.
Mistingham was quickly disappearing, street and shop signs obliterated by white, the pavement at turns crunchy and slippery.
Imogen and Dexter clung onto each other tightly, and sometimes grabbed a wall or door frame.
The scents of fish and chips wafted out as they passed Batter Days, and Imogen tried not to think ahead to being by a cosy fire, a plate of vinegary chips in front of her, her feet in Dexter’s lap.
Could that be her life? Her long-term future, not just a temporary escape?
‘Here,’ Dexter said, as they turned onto the lane. ‘Some of these houses have garages and outbuildings down the side. We should check if any are open.’
‘OK.’
‘Split up?’
‘OK.’
‘I’ll try this one, you try the next, then we’ll go on together.’
‘OK!’
Dexter let go of her hand, and she watched him stride up the driveway of the first house, before she headed to the next one along.
She couldn’t see the driveway: what if there was a gnome or a plant pot or a spade hidden beneath the snow?
She shoved her fears aside and walked up to the garage door.
She tugged on it, but it was locked, the house alongside in darkness, because so many of these were holiday or second homes.
Satisfied that Felix couldn’t have sneaked in, she retraced her steps, the footprints she’d made only moments ago already disappearing under fresh powder.
‘Anything?’ Dexter was waiting for her, his cheeks pink, snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes.
‘Nothing.’
‘Next two, then.’
They repeated the process, and somewhere along the way Imogen started calling out, as if shouting his name would help. But maybe it would? Maybe Felix had learnt the sound of it and would bleat loudly if he was trapped.
They made their way along the lane, checking garages and sheds, all of them steadfastly locked, their hope dwindling. With only two houses left, Dexter fumbled his phone out of his pocket and checked the WhatsApp group.
‘Nobody’s found him yet.’ He sounded so despondent that Imogen felt awful for her earlier amusement.
‘We will.’ She put her hands on his shoulders. His hat was covered in snow, and she supposed hers must be too. She’d stopped being able to feel her toes a while ago. ‘We’ll find him, Dex,’ she said, snow landing on her lips as she spoke.
‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ He leaned in and gave her a snowy kiss, a moment of shared warmth before they pulled away.
‘We’re nearly at the cliff path.’ He sounded worried, not needing to reference the long drop to the sand or the icy, unforgiving sea.
But Felix was a goat. Surely he had survival instincts?
She was genuinely worried now too. She didn’t want to think about how it would affect the whole village, just before Christmas, if their search didn’t have a happy outcome.
‘I’ll do this one.’ She pointed at the next drive along.
‘I’ll take the end house,’ Dexter said.
They split up again, and Imogen trudged past another set of dark, lifeless windows.
At first, she thought there was no outbuilding – she could barely see anything at all, now – but then she realized it was tacked onto the back of the house, more like a large shed than a garage, the door facing the next house along instead of the road.
Imogen grabbed the handle and, expecting resistance, cried out in surprise when it swung inwards.
She steadied herself, then slipped through the gap.
It was as cold in here as it was outside, and also dark, with a musty, unused smell.
‘Felix?’ She groped around for a light switch, her fingers tangling in cobwebs, making her shudder.
‘Felix?’ She found the switch, and the bare bulb made a pathetic attempt at illuminating the space.
Imogen blinked snow off her eyelashes and looked around, at what must be a motorbike covered with a tarpaulin, toolboxes up against the walls, a guitar case turned grey with dust. ‘Are you in here, little goat?’ She heard something a lot smaller than Felix scuttle across the floor, and longed to be outside in the snow again.
‘Felix, are you—?’
‘Baaaaaaaaah!’
Imogen jumped, pressing her hand to her chest.‘Holy shit!’
‘Baaaah.’
‘Felix!’
The goat raised his head from behind the covered motorbike, and then, as if happy with the identity of his rescuer, trotted over to her.
Imogen sank into a crouch and wrapped her arms around Felix’s neck as he nosed her cheek. ‘How did you get in here and shut the door? You silly, clever, highly irritating goat!’
‘Baaah.’ Felix was indignant.
‘Everyone is looking for you! A whole search party. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got the lifeboats involved. You like being the centre of attention, don’t you?’
Felix nibbled her hair, and Imogen laughed.
‘Lucy was so worried about you, and it was horrible seeing her upset, so you must think about that in future, and not go gallivanting off because you want to play in the snow. Play with friends, close to home, that’s really important, OK, Felix?
’ She held his head in her hands so she could look him in the eye.
He chewed the cuff of her green coat, entirely nonplussed.
‘Have you been rehearsing that in your head this whole time?’ Imogen jumped again, then turned to see Dexter leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed, his eyes glittering with amusement. ‘Because that was a great speech.’
‘Oh, I – when did you sneak in?’
‘When you were calling him a highly irritating goat.’
Imogen stood up. ‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘Sorry?’ Dexter grabbed her hands. ‘You found Felix, then you said what everyone else is thinking every time he goes on an unauthorized excursion. You clearly love him despite him being highly irritating, and you looked fierce and beautiful, and I know I should have announced myself, but I wanted to watch you.’ He kissed her nose.
‘You did?’
‘I did. I do.’ His amusement faded. ‘I want to watch you, be with you, more and more.’
‘Oh.’ Imogen’s breath caught. ‘Well, I …’
‘Baaaaaaah!’ Felix headbutted the metal door, the sound reverberating through the musty space.
‘We should let everyone know.’ Dexter was still holding Imogen’s hands.
‘We’ll get Felix back to the village – I don’t think the cliff path is safe, so Harry can come and pick him up – then I need to check on the bakery, make sure Mandy and Luke aren’t panicking because of the snow. I’m sorry, there’s so much to do.’
‘Of course.’
Felix bleated.
Dexter dragged the door open, a flurry of snow finding the gap and whirling inside. ‘It’s getting properly deep.’
Imogen saw how high the snow was and shuddered. If they’d needed to push the door open, they might have been trapped. She was all for being snowed in with Dexter, but there were more romantic places than a dank, cobweb-filled shed.
‘You going to stay with us, Felix?’ she asked.
‘He will.’ Dexter pulled a harness and lead out of his pocket.
‘You have a goat harness now?’
‘I mentioned it to Harry, after the last time you rescued him. He got one for all of us.’ Dexter crouched to secure it around Felix’s middle. ‘We weren’t sure whether to get you one too, because if you’re—’ He cut himself off. ‘They’re a good thing to have, anyway.’
Imogen chewed her lip. Surely if he wanted her to stay, he would have finished the sentence: said they should get her a harness too, for future escapes. But he had only ever thought of her as a short-term prospect, and whose fault was that?
She waited, shivering, while he secured Felix, then she followed them out into the snowstorm.
Mistingham was hidden, hardly any of the features she had come to love visible.
Together, they pulled the shed door closed again, and then, for a moment, they just looked at each other, while snow swirled around them and the wind whistled between the houses.
Imogen tried to memorize all of Dexter, to stop him from disappearing in her mind, blanketed into oblivion by her internal snowstorm.
Then he held out his hand, and she slotted hers into it, and they made their slow, faltering way back to the centre of Mistingham, Felix trotting alongside them, entirely unconcerned about all the trouble he’d caused.