‘Where does she live?’ I’m not sure why I’m so interested in this donkey – probably because it’s such an unusual sight. It isn’t as though you see donkeys wandering around in Manchester. An unleashed dog, perhaps, and plenty of pigeons, but no donkeys or other farmyard friends.
‘Just along the lane.’ Oliver has already reached the bottom of the stairs while I’m still carefully treading down each step so I don’t slip in my silly boots and break my neck.
‘Can I come and meet her? Before you take her back?’ Forgetting to channel Vanessa for a moment, a huge grin spreads across my face and I risk a tumble down the stairs as I pick up speed to join Oliver in the hallway.
‘Do what you want.’ Oliver shrugs. ‘It’s your house.’
Oliver’s words are hardly warm and welcoming, but I almost whoop out loud as a rush of pure joy erupts inside me and I’m transported back to the days of being a carefree child, of plodding along the sand on the back of a gentle donkey, of feeling content and unburdened. Of feeling so happy I could burst. I can’t recall the last time I felt so jubilant; perhaps it was when I was offered the job at Vanessa Whitely Events, back when I assumed I’d managed to get my foot through the door to my dream career. When I assumed I’d soon have a more inspired input in the business.
‘Give me a minute.’ Holding up a hand, Oliver strides into the kitchen but I tiptoe after him, catching the end of a conversation he’s having with Todd.
‘Why didn’t you tell me she was here?’
The way Oliver spits out the word ‘she’ is as though he’s just scraped it off the bottom of his shoe and caught a rank smell. Oliver Rowe, it seems, is not Vanessa’s biggest fan and I’ve done nothing to persuade him to change his perception.
Todd shrugs as he piles plaster onto his board under Vincent’s supervision. ‘You didn’t ask.’
Oliver throws his hands up in the air as Vincent shrugs. ‘I assumed he’d told you.’ He tuts at Todd. ‘You’re really as thick as mince sometimes, boy.’
I feel a bit sorry for Todd, especially as neither Harvey or Oliver jump to his defence and he simply gets on with the job of plastering the wall.
‘I could have got myself sacked up there just now.’ Oliver’s words are hissed and poor Todd flinches.
‘Why?’ Harvey sniggers. ‘What did you do? You didn’t hit on her, did you?’
‘Of course I didn’t hit on her. Why would I?’
I feel a bit stung by Oliver’s instant dismissal at the very notion of hitting on me. The cheek!
‘You know what she’s like though. You’ve seen the emails she sent to Vince back in the beginning, and the way she treated Nic. The woman’s a Grade-A bitch.’
I don’t want to hear any more, whether it’s about me or Vanessa; I don’t think my ego could take another bruising. Creeping backwards, I make sure my heels clip-clop to their maximum as I march back towards the kitchen to announce my presence.
‘That donkey’s still out there, you know.’ With my hands on my hips, I’m projecting pure rottweiler. Oliver responds by saluting me, which isn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for, but at least he starts to move across the kitchen. Flashing poor Todd one last reproachful look, Oliver leads the way through the hallway, swinging the heavy oak door open and holding it for me to go through. It’s a gentlemanly act, but I don’t thank him for it. His words to the others are ringing in my ears on a loop.
Oliver leads me around to the back of the house without a word. Franny is still munching on the grass and seems in no hurry to leave.
‘The grass must taste better on this side of the fence.’ I’m trying to make light of the situation because the silence stretching between us is so awkward it’s making me itch.
‘Probably because she doesn’t have to share with the others over here.’ Oliver forges ahead while I tread over the damp grass as carefully as I can. My toes are already soaked and no doubt filthy. Open-toe boots are even less practical in the countryside than they are in the city.
‘The others?’ I wobble a bit, but luckily Oliver is too far ahead to notice.
‘At the sanctuary.’ Oliver slows down and for a moment I fear he’s going to try to take my arm to steady me, but luckily he moves ahead again. I don’t need his help. And I don’t need him to hit on me either, the arrogant sod.
‘There’s a donkey sanctuary here?’ I try to quash it, but there’s that joyful feeling again, bursting from the pit of my stomach and spreading into my chest. Who knew, as I stepped on the platform at Piccadilly train station this morning, that I would find such happiness with this project?
‘Not just donkeys. There’s all sorts, really. In fact, there are only two donkeys – Franny and Daisy.’ Oliver stops and turns to give me a strange look. ‘You did know you were moving in practically next door to a bunch of animals, right?’
Too late, I realise I’m supposed to be Vanessa, who more than likely would know this fact, and that actually I did know there was an animal sanctuary nearby. There was a sign on the roadside. Something about eggs?
‘I did know, obviously.’ I roll my eyes and plant the heel of my hand against my forehead. ‘But I can be such a scatterbrain sometimes.’ I roll my eyes again for good measure before moving on towards the donkey.
‘Have you been over to the sanctuary?’
I don’t know. Has Vanessa been to the sanctuary? I can’t imagine her being overly excited at the prospect of being in close proximity to any animal other than her prized pug, Angel, who has to be the most pampered pooch in the Greater Manchester area. Angel, whose miniature paws I swear have never touched the ground, is a world away from the robust-looking donkey before us. Franny is tall with spindly but sturdy-looking legs and long, twitching ears. Most of her fur is brown, but she has a creamy underside and face, which creates a stark contrast with her big brown eyes. She is beautiful.
‘No. Not yet.’ I take a punt and hope it was the right choice.
‘You haven’t met my sister, Stacey then?’ He doesn’t wait for an answer before striding ahead, which I’m grateful for as I have absolutely no idea whether Vanessa has been introduced to this woman. ‘Hello, Franny. You know you’re not supposed to wander off. Stace will be worried sick when she notices you’ve gone.’ Oliver has adopted a mock-stern tone, but he’s stroking the donkey with a gentle touch. This Oliver is a world away from the man who has just fumed at his workmate and called Vanessa a Grade-A bitch. ‘Come and meet Vanessa and then we’ll get you back before Stace has kittens.’ He pats the donkey a couple of times on the side before beckoning me to come closer. I edge my way over, suddenly wary now we’re up close. ‘It’s okay. She won’t hurt you. She’s a big softie, aren’t you, girl?’ He scratches the donkey in the space between her ears before holding a hand out to me. I take it, surprised it’s so warm after being in the chilly house, and step closer to the donkey. She barely moves, too interested in the juicy grass in front of her.
‘Hello, Franny.’ I feel a bit foolish talking to a donkey, but Oliver smiles in encouragement and I reach out to stroke her fur. It’s silky soft and warm and I find myself taking another step closer.
‘See? There’s nothing to be afraid of. Franny wouldn’t hurt a fly.’ Oliver stoops to plant a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Shall we get you home, girl?’
Franny is wearing a bright red harness, which Oliver takes hold of and starts to gently guide the donkey towards the house. She cooperates fully, willingly giving up her grassy snack to plod alongside us.
‘You’re really good with her.’ I can’t help but feel impressed