Chapter 4 #3
I took a gulp of the fresh orange out of the straw. It was cold and zingy as it hit the back of my throat. Pirate wriggled in my arms for a closer look at my liquid refreshment before blinking wearily again.
‘I found this little fella alone by the side of the road, not far from here.’ I pointed at his wriggly tail.
‘He’s got a blue daub of paint, which looks like either the letter S or the number eight.
’ I turned Pirate around in my arms, so the barman could see.
‘I don’t suppose you might know which farm he belongs to? ’
Evan took a long, satisfying pull of his pint. ‘Please, sir. Tell Daisy you do know, otherwise I think we could end up as a threesome on the way to Scotland.’
I scowled up at Evan, whose face was deadpan. Then he winked down at me. ‘I’m not interested in threesomes,’ he whispered across at me. ‘I’m too selfish.’
My face flooded with colour. My mouth pursed. ‘I can assure you, I’ve got absolutely no interest whatsoever in what might or might not float your boat.’
I hugged Pirate tighter but managed to throw Evan what I hoped was a disdainful expression.
That made Evan’s eyes glitter with amusement, which made me even more bad-tempered.
The barman leant across and took a closer look at the blue smudge on Pirate’s curly white coat. ‘Sorry, Miss. I’ve no idea. There are a fair few farms around here, so he could belong to any of them.’
‘I don’t want to say I told you so,’ murmured Evan from behind his pint glass.
‘But no doubt you will.’
Oh bugger. What if we couldn’t locate the farmer who Pirate belonged to? I wasn’t prepared to just leave him here to fend for himself.
Observing me with a growing look of concern, Evan set down his Guinness on the bar. The pub lights shone behind him. ‘Don’t tell me you’re thinking of bringing him along with us to the bed and breakfast?’
I jutted out my chin. Pirate snuggled against my chest. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’
Evan raised his beer to his lips again. ‘I’m staggered you’d prefer the company of a walking woolly jumper than a tall, dark and rugged journalist.’
I cradled Pirate and took another sip of my orange juice through the paper straw. ‘I think that speaks volumes, don’t you?’
Evan’s eyes sparkled at me.
‘Excuse me?’
A middle-aged woman who’d been nursing a white wine a little further down the bar approached us. A man about the same age, who I presumed was her partner, sidled up behind her.
She hooked a chunk of highlighted blonde hair back behind one ear.
‘Oh, isn’t he adorable?’ She set her wine glass down on top of the bar and fussed over Pirate in my arms. She turned her attention to me, her light grey eyes creasing with friendliness.
‘We couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying just now.
He’s lucky someone like you spotted him. ’
I slid Evan a loaded look. ‘Oh, I’m just glad we were passing by at the time.’
Pirate twisted as I held him. The woman angled her head when she saw the blue marking on his coat. ‘Henry. Come and take a look. Isn’t that the marking Murdo uses on his flock?’
Her partner peered at the faded blue image through his Harry Potter style spectacles. ‘Yes. It is. A blue S for Sylvester. Murdo Sylvester.’
I gave Pirate a happy hug. ‘You’re sure?’
‘One hundred percent,’ answered the man with a decisive nod. ‘I’ve done some work on Murdo’s farm over the years, just to help him out. We’ve been friends ever since we were at secondary school together.’
Evan finished his pint and offered Pirate a triumphant, smug smile.
‘So, Mr Sylvester’s farm is near here?’ I asked, feeling a pang of happiness and relief that we’d found the lamb’s owner, combined with a silly stab of sadness.
The blonde woman waggled her wine glass. ‘Just ten minutes up the road. You can’t miss it. Take the second right when you see the sign for Brock Wood Farm.’
I finished the last of my orange juice and adjusted the position of Pirate in my arms. ’Ready to go then?’ I asked Evan.
He gave me a frustrated look. ‘So, I take it we’re now off to take Shaun the Sheep back to his owners?’
‘Yes. Then we can head on to our accommodation.’
Evan frowned down at Pirate. ‘I’d have been quicker walking from Hertfordshire to Scotland.’
‘Don’t let me stop you.’
We thanked the barman and the helpful couple and departed from the pub. The stars reminded me of spilt glitter above the hills.
We clambered back inside Marlene, and again I plopped Pirate into Evan’s resistant lap.
Evan tutted down at his suit.
I turned over the car engine. ‘Don’t worry about your designer clobber. We can get it dry-cleaned. Pirate will soon be back home safe and sound.’
‘Not soon enough,’ mumbled Evan under his breath. He eyed Pirate, who’d flopped down in his lap. But then the lamb nuzzled his sooty black nose into Evan’s stomach, and when Evan thought I wasn’t looking, he gave the little furball a quick stroke.
I smiled to myself.
The journey to Brock Wood Farm took us past an old crumbling castle ruin, its turrets bursting upwards in the dark, and by a sweet little humpbacked bridge with silvery water dancing underneath it.
‘Here it is,’ I announced, clicking the car indicator to the right.
As though recognising the farm road, Pirate shifted in Evan’s muscular arms and peered out of the passenger side window.
We trundled up the tree-lined lane. Up ahead of us, a farmhouse beckoned, warm tangerine lights shining out of the sash windows.
‘We’ll deposit Pirate and then head on to the B&B.’
‘Finally,’ sighed Evan. ‘When I joined you on this road trip, I never envisaged I’d be babysitting a sheep.’
‘He’s not a sheep, he’s a lamb,’ I corrected, easing us into a space at the front of the farmhouse and switching off the engine. ‘And when I woke up this morning, I didn’t think I’d be giving a lift all the way to Scotland to a friend of the biggest critic dickhead in the UK.’
Evan puffed out his cheeks. ‘I’m not a friend of that boorish idiot. I’d never set eyes on him until today.’
We got out of the car. Evan scooped up Pirate and brought him round to me. As soon as the lamb saw me, he launched himself into my waiting arms.
Evan tutted. ‘What it is to be popular.’
‘Stop feeling so sorry for yourself and come on.’
The entrance to Brock Wood Farm was illuminated by a gorgeous, old-fashioned oil lamp either side of the farmhouse door.
Evan raised one hand and was about to knock when a voluptuous woman in her sixties with fiery, red hair swept out of the door.
She looked at me, then at Evan, and then her inquisitive, hazel eyes fell on Pirate. He wriggled in my grasp. ‘Oh, my goodness, Murdo!’ she called. ‘Come here! Come and see!’ She grinned at both of us. ‘Thank you so much. Where did you find him? His poor mum has been going spare.’
‘I spotted him just a few minutes up the road, near the woodland. Not too far from that pub,’ I explained.
A man with an impressive ZZ Top grey beard came barrelling out next. ‘We didn’t realise the little bugger was missing until late. Looks like he squeezed under my fencing. That’s getting repaired first thing tomorrow morning.’
The lady beckoned for me to hand over Pirate. I gave him another hug and offered him to her with a strange, dull throb of reluctance. I’d got attached to the little toot.
The farmer shook both our hands and offered his grateful thanks again. ‘Sorry, I’m Murdo by the way, and this is my wife, Carla. How did you know to bring him here?’
‘A lady in the pub told us. She and her husband recognised the blue marking on his coat,’ said Evan, pointing at Pirate in Carla’s arms.
Carla laughed as Pirate shimmied against her ample bosom. ‘Would you both like to come in for a cup of tea? Or something stronger?’
I shook my ponytail. ‘That’s very kind of you, but we just want to reach our bed and breakfast and crash out for the night. And I’m driving anyway.’
Murdo gave Pirate a rub on his flank as he peered out of his wife’s arms. ‘Ah. Young love, eh? I remember it well.’
It took a moment for me to register what the farmer meant. ‘What? Us? You mean…? Oh God, no! As if! It’s nothing like that.’
Evan’s eyes danced down at me. ‘Daisy here is giving me a lift back to Scotland to visit my family. As a favour. That’s all.’
Carla nodded her understanding. ‘Oh, I see. Right. Well, thank you so much again for rescuing this little devil.’
Evan moved to leave. I darted up to Carla and gave Pirate a stroke on the nose, and was rewarded with a hot, wet lick on the face, which made me laugh.
We waved our goodbyes and jumped back inside the car.
I fired up the engine and clicked my seatbelt back into position.
‘They thought we were a couple,’ glittered Evan across from me, in the dark.
I adjusted the rear-view mirror for a little longer than was necessary. ‘I know. They must have a terrific sense of humour in these parts.’