‘But she did survive.’ I cringe inwardly at my observation. Of course she survived – she’s walking beside us right now. Oliver must think I’m completely dense. Or as thick as mince, as Vincent would say.
‘That’s all down to Stace.’ We’ve reached the drive now, and Oliver pauses, his brows lowering as he nods towards the house. ‘I won’t be long and don’t worry – I’ll make the time up later.’ He seems to have reverted to the old Oliver, the Oliver who despises me. Or Vanessa. Or both of us.
‘Can I come with you?’ I’m intrigued by the animal sanctuary, and I also want to experience a bit more of the nice Oliver. If I can keep chatting to him while he’s under the influence of Franny, while he’s being cute and charming, maybe we can make up for the bad start we’ve had.
‘Whatever.’ Oliver shrugs, his tone sullen, but at least he hasn’t said no. We carry on along the drive, taking it slowly over the uneven rubble covering on the ground.
‘So what happened to Franny after she was found?’ The donkey seems to be a safe topic, so I decide to keep our focus on her as we head towards the lane.
‘Stace took Franny in, kept her warm and fed, and she got stronger and stronger. We tried to find the owner, but nobody ever came forward to claim her, so she became a permanent fixture in the barn. From there, word spread and any waif and stray was brought to Stace to look after. She loves it though and I’m so proud of the work she does for the animals. I help out when I can, but it’s Stace who does most of the hard graft.’
I quite like the way he speaks about his sister, the pride not only in his words but in the tone of his voice and the way his face has lit up. I can’t imagine Kate would ever speak about me in that way. I’m more of a disappointment than someone to aspire to.
I reach out to stroke Franny’s soft fur, trying not to picture the state she was in when she was found out on the track. It’s heartbreaking to imagine the suffering. Oliver and Stacey are good people for taking her – and many others – in and taking care of them. Oliver may not be my cup of tea in the way he speaks to his workmates, or the way he assumes people are drawn to his bottom (even if they are) and certainly not the way he dismissed me so rapidly, but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. And yes, I have to admit he’s a good-looking bloke. He’s tall and broad-shouldered with a confident manner (even if it sometimes nudges into arrogance) and there’s definitely a cheeky twinkle in his eye. And I do like the way his dark blond hair is just a little bit too long and is starting to wave. And have I mentioned his bottom?
We reach the lane and although it’s narrow, we’re at least on firmer ground, which is good news for both Franny and my boots. Oliver tells me more about the sanctuary as we make our way towards the next property, and how they mainly rely on fundraising and donations to keep the sanctuary running.
‘And here we are.’ Oliver stops in front of a gate between two sets of tall hedgerows and swings it open. ‘Welcome to Little Heaton’s Animal Sanctuary.’
The animal sanctuary isn’t at all what I was expecting. It looks like a regular house. A very pretty house, with a cherry-red door between two large, sashed windows, but a regular house all the same. There’s a small garden to the front, with two oblong patches of manicured lawn sandwiching a cobbled path that leads from the wide iron gate to the front door. On closer inspection, I notice that the door knocker is a brass, floppy-eared rabbit, but the only other indication that this is an animal sanctuary is the small plaque proclaiming so above the letterbox.
‘Wow. This looks lovely.’
And it really does. If you told me to close my eyes and picture a countryside dwelling, this is the image I would conjure. Chuck on a bit of snow and a wreath on the door, and you’ve got yourself a classy Christmas card right here.
‘It isn’t as grand as your house, but we like it.’ Oliver closes the gate behind the three of us and leads Franny along the path. ‘It was my grandparents’ house. My gran left it to us six years ago, shortly before this little lady came to stay.’
Bypassing the front door, Oliver leads the way to a tall wooden gate to the side of the property before he hands the harness to me. My eyes widen in fear but I automatically grab hold of the strap.
‘I won’t be a minute. Just need to go and unlock the gate from the other side.’ Oliver is already backing away from me, even as I open my mouth to protest. Nothing comes out and so I stand there with a gaping mouth until he disappears around the corner. I stand stock-still, willing Franny to do the same until Oliver returns. What would I do if the donkey decided to take another stroll? Other than scuttle after her? I’m a pushover when it comes to humans and although it’s never been tested, I’m pretty sure I’ll roll over and take whatever decision this donkey makes too.
Thankfully, Franny remains calm during the short time it takes Oliver to move through the house and into the back garden, but I still heave a massive sigh of relief when I hear the sound of a lock being released on the other side of the gate. It swings open, but instead of Oliver standing on the other side, it’s the blonde woman who helped me find the house earlier. She doesn’t have the sheep with her this time but she’s still wearing the bobble hat and wellies.
‘I’m so sorry about this.’ She reaches for the harness and gives a gentle tug, and Franny responds by plodding through the gate. ‘I didn’t even realise she’d gone walkabout – I thought she was in the barn, the little tinker.’ She indicates that I should follow and locks the gate behind me. ‘We met earlier. Arthur’s Pass, right?’
Oliver is suddenly beside Stacey, his arm slung around her shoulders. ‘This is my sister, Stacey, the mastermind behind Little Heaton’s Animal Sanctuary.’ Stacey rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling at the compliment. ‘And this is your new neighbour.’ Oliver removes his arm from Stacey’s shoulder so he can hold it out towards me. ‘Vanessa Whitely.’
The smile vanishes from Stacey’s face and I cross my fingers behind my back, hoping with all my might that Stacey and the real Vanessa haven’t met previously.
‘Oh.’ There’s a flicker of a smile on Stacey’s lips as she holds a hand towards me, but it doesn’t last. ‘We finally meet.’ Her eyes are as cold as Vanessa’s barren house as we shake hands. ‘I hope Franny hasn’t caused too much trouble?’ She looks from me to Oliver, her tone rising to form a question.
‘No trouble at all.’ I stroke Franny’s head, feeling braver now I’m not in control of the harness. ‘In fact, it was lovely to meet her.’
Now we’re on the other side of the gate, the animal sanctuary is clear to see. The garden at the property is quite large, but most of it is taken up by the barn at the bottom of the plot, with two wooden sheds and a series of hutches and coops to the side. A couple of chickens are wandering around, pecking at the ground, while the sheep I met earlier is munching on a patch of grass. There are hand-painted signs indicating where each set of animals is kept, plus another to the side of the back door to the house, directing the way to the café and gift shop.
‘Well, feel free to pop over any time you like. We’re always happy for volunteers to lend a hand.’ Stacey starts to walk towards the barn at the bottom of the garden and Franny plods along beside her with little encouragement needed. ‘And don’t worry – we’ve always got plenty of spare pairs of wellies on hand.’
My