Page 18

“Amber?”

“You met her earlier. Redhead. Gives me a lot of lip.”

Kitty recalled the surly-faced lady behind the bar.

“She’s my right-hand woman. Makes me look good and frees me up to drink the profits and charm any beautiful women who wander into my pub.”

Kitty rolled her eyes, and Daniel leaned on the gatepost.

“Speaking of which, come and join me for a drink sometime? We can map out your plan for global domination together.” A cheeky twinkle danced in his eyes, and Kitty found herself accepting his offer.

“Why not?” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Good. There’s no escape now. I know where you live,” Daniel stood up straight, putting one hand in his pocket. “It was lovely to meet you properly, but now I think you need to get to bed. It’s going to take a lot of beauty sleep to tame this beast.”

Kitty’s eyes widened, and her heart skipped in her chest. Was he talking about himself? She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, he kissed the tip of his index finger and touched it to her bruise. It was a tender gesture after all his bravado and flirting.

The corners of her mouth curled. “Good night, Daniel,” she said.

Kitty turned towards the cottage and headed up the steps. After finding the key in her bag, she looked back to see Daniel Cunningham walking down the road, still barefoot, whistling in the moonlight.

11

KITTY

Kitty wokeearly with the groggiest body in recorded history.The cockerel screeched his morning greeting, and her forehead throbbed as if she’d clashed with a sledgehammer instead of a table edge.Perhaps the pounding at her temples was a fitting reward for clumsiness and late-night brandy drinking with handsome strangers. It would serve as a reminder not to go off script in the future.

After she’d arrived home last night, Kitty checked her emails, desperate for job news. Apart from the three ads for vibrators and one for support underwear, her inbox was empty.

Now awake, she recalled her adventures last night. Her meeting with the tabletop, then Josh, and finally, her late-night walk with Daniel. Had she made the wrong decision about his proposition?He was very persuasive, and how often did gorgeous men come knocking at her door offering no strings attached flings?

The cockerel crowed for a second time, and Kitty stumbled over to the bathroom in the half light of dawn.She examined her head in the mirror. The golf-ball sized bruise was an absolute corker.Its purple hue already yellowing at the edges. Kitty brushed her teeth with one hand and rummaged around in her sparse make-up bag for her concealer.Why she was bothering she didn’t know. It wasn’t as if the goats would notice.

She threw on a smart pair of jeans, a pale blue shirt, and some glittery flip-flops. The shirt was part of a business suit. She didn’t want to ruin it, so she kept a few buttons undone at the bottom and tied the leftover ‘tails’ into a knot. She crept through the house to the kitchen, not wanting to wake Julia or the cats. That would mean conversation, and she wasn’t sure she could string a sentence together yet.

After three large glasses of water, a steaming cup of coffee and two paracetamols, Kitty headed down to the animals. The chaos of the sheds irritated her yesterday, so she’d organised the supplies. Now, scrubbed and cleaned, labelled, and regimented, Kitty was happy. It was neat enough for a photo spread inVogue Living–Farm Edition,if there even was such a thing.

A visit to the chickens was first on her list. Kitty was surprised to find she didn’t mind chickens. Not only were they useful, but they were friendly and didn’t smell as bad as she’d expected. She wished she could say the same for their coop, though. It stunk to high heaven, but she collected six warm eggs that morning, fighting the urge to dry retch.

Next, Kitty moved on to Jill, the donkey, who’d left a nice parcel of poo in the corner.She skirted around the beast to shovel it away, flinching with each noise and movement the animal made. Jill’s unpredictability and strength worried her. If she got knocked over or kicked, she wouldn’t put it past the old donkey to trample on her for good measure. She’d probably break bones.

With shaking hands, Kitty steadied her breath as she put on the leading bridle and took Jill outside.Stepping out onto the path, she glanced down at her feet. They were already filthy, covered in sawdust and tiny, sharp bits of hay. It was pointless hosing them down.They’d be caked in mud and dirt again in no time.

After depositing Jill safely in the paddock, Kitty checked on the goats. Getting them down to join their donkey friend was daunting. She’d already fostered a healthy dislike for them after they’d spent the previous afternoon butting her in the bottom and nagging her for food.And this morning, when Kitty opened the door to their shed, they crowded around her, buffeting each other in gleeful anarchy.

She’d written a list of the goat’s names and a short description of each on a whiteboard hanging near the door.When she checked them off, one by one, she noticed that Dora, Julia’s favourite, was nowhere to be seen.There was a tick next to her name on the board, so shehadput her to bed last night. Where was she now?

A fierce burn rose in Kitty’s chest. When she arrived, she probably left the door ajar, and Dora could’ve slipped out of the shed into the garden. Kitty wracked her brains, but she couldn’t remember whether she’d closed the gate after Daniel left last night.Shit!Cursing her stupidity, she prayed the goat hadn’t gone far and would happily be munching roses in the flower bed.

After bustling the remaining goats down to the paddock, Kitty began the search, but Dora was nowhere to be found around Rose Cottage. Kitty looked up at Julia’s bedroom window. Her curtains were drawn, so hopefully, she was still in bed, blissfully unaware.

Burning hot and breathless, Kitty ran around the side of the house to the front, and her heart dropped when she saw that the front gate was wide open. She cursed herself for getting so tipsy and distracted last night. Jonty’s words had been very clear during his guided tour the other day:Life in the countryside – rule number one…always close the gate.

Kitty stood in the lane checking in both directions, hoping to spot the goat’s sturdy rump as she made her escape.But nothing. If Dora had turned right, there would’ve been plenty of gardens to visit for a free meal. If she’d gone left, there was too much ground to cover alone. She’d have to call Jonty to help.

A fan of choosing the path of least resistance or least judgement from her cousin, Kitty turned right towards the village.She searched every front garden on her way but found no Dora. However, relief swelled in her chest as further down the lane, Kitty saw potential evidence the goat may have passed by.

A few decapitated sunflowers lined the front of one garden. And the vegetable stall outside another was trashed, with half-munched potatoes and carrots littering the ground.She made a mental note to put some money in the stall’s honesty box when she had Dora home, then moved on.