Page 29 of A New Family at Puddleduck Farm (Puddleduck Farm #6)

To Phoebe’s disappointment, Denise didn’t text her the number of the breeder. Maybe she’d had second thoughts. Or maybe she was busy with Christmas, or maybe her husband had decided it was a bad idea to report the breeder to a vet. It was frustrating.

Phoebe wasn’t even entirely sure why she wanted the number, but she just had a hunch that it might be useful.

She decided to put it out of her mind for now.

She remembered what Maggie had said about her being an amateur sleuth.

That had been a reference to her wanting to find out about the man who’d tried to rehome the kittens.

This was unlikely to be connected to that.

Besides, Christmas wasn’t the time to be focusing on anything other than family.

So that’s what she did. Alexa and Frazier arrived with Bertie, Flo and baby Jake at just after four as planned and because she hadn’t seen her brother and sister-in-law and nieces and nephews for what felt like ages, although they’d all come over to meet Lily when she was a newborn, there was a lot of catching up to do.

It was chaos, having four little ones under five to look after, and it was exhausting, but it was fun too.

‘I’ve no idea how you manage three of them,’ Phoebe said to Alexa in admiration as she, Alexa and Frazier got the kids ready for bed later. ‘Just one’s enough for me.’

‘I’m used to it,’ Alexa told her with a serene smile. ‘And this probably sounds nuts but it helps that Flo and Bertie are twins. They entertain each other a fair bit.’

‘You mean they wind each other up,’ Frazier said. ‘Or more to the point, Flo winds Bertie up. She’s a little madam.’

Flo poked her tongue out at her father. ‘I’m a good little madam, aren’t I, Daddy?’

‘Sometimes,’ he acknowledged, trying to look stern but failing. It was obvious that his daughter was the apple of his eye.

‘What’s the chances of the twins staying in bed?’ Sam murmured, after baths and bedtime stories and goodnight kisses had been done and everyone had looked at the Santa tracker app one last time.

‘They’re under strict instructions that if they’re not good, Father Christmas won’t stop by,’ Frazier told him.

And actually they did stay in bed while the adults had supper at the kitchen table and chatted downstairs and Alexa complimented Phoebe and Sam on the homemade paper chains and the six-foot potted dark green tree which was on its third set of lights, and the posh party nibbles they were having for supper.

‘They’re all shop bought,’ Phoebe told her. ‘We got them out of the freezer from the farm shop. We haven’t had time to cook.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Alexa glanced across at her. ‘You’ve got a baby, you’re both working, and you’ve got an animal sanctuary to oversee. Just the thought of all that makes me tired.’

‘I was going to suggest we play a game,’ Phoebe said when supper was finally cleared away. ‘A board game? Or maybe Charades as it’s Christmas.’

Sam groaned. ‘Can we leave that for tomorrow? You know how much Maggie loves it.’

‘She does not,’ Phoebe said before realising he was joking. ‘Although Eddie was good at that last year. And Dad’s quite good.’

‘He hams it up for the kids.’

‘I’ll get some more drinks,’ Sam said, getting up from the table. ‘Same again, everyone?’

They nodded and when he came back he was carrying Phoebe’s phone. ‘That’s pinged a couple of times. I thought I’d better tell you in case it was urgent.’

Phoebe opened the messages and realised they were both from Denise. Not only had she sent over the breeder’s number, she’d sent over a screenshot of the advert too.

Phoebe sent a message back to thank her and then because everyone was looking at her expectantly, she told them what had happened earlier and why she had wanted the number of the breeder in the first place.

‘You think he may be connected to the man who tried to get your kittens and sell them on?’ Frazier asked.

‘Exactly that.’

‘And is it the same number?’

Phoebe checked back against the number Natasha had sent her. ‘No, it’s not,’ she said, feeling disappointed. ‘That’s a shame. I thought I might be on to something there.’

‘You could find out what other ads he has running if you do a reverse image search,’ Frazier suggested. ‘Here. I’ll show you.’

A few minutes later he’d found three more online adverts for kittens that had the same photos as the one Denise had sent over, although two of them had different numbers.

‘Look,’ Frazier said triumphantly. ‘That one matches your number. Looks like they use a few. They might not want anyone to be able to pin them down if they’re up to no good.’

‘Are they up to no good?’ Alexa’s girl-next-door innocence was clear. ‘It’s not a crime to sell kittens, is it?’

‘No, it’s not, as long as you actually breed them yourself, and don’t get them from somewhere else.’ Phoebe filled her in about Lucy’s Law.

‘What about Emilia’s kittens?’ Sam said, his face thoughtful. ‘Could they possibly have been stolen to order? Can kittens be stolen to order?’

‘I imagine anything can be stolen to order,’ Phoebe said. ‘Wasn’t there something on the news recently about a load of cheese that was stolen to order?’

‘Twenty-two tonnes of cheese from a UK dairy,’ Frazier said promptly. He’d always had a near photographic memory for trivial facts, which made him a very good person to have on a quiz team.

His forehead creased into a frown. ‘And I seem to recall that one December not so long ago, thieves stole a van load of gourmet pies made by a Michelin-starred chef.’

‘Wow.’ Alexa looked shocked. ‘You’re right. I remember that, although I’ve never heard about it happening with animals.’

‘It would be interesting to hear Maggie’s take on that,’ Sam said. ‘We can ask her tomorrow.’

‘Great plan.’ Phoebe raised her eyebrows. ‘If it diverts Eddie from Charades, I’m sure she’ll be absolutely delighted.’

‘Right then, who’s up for helping me with the Christmas stockings?’

‘Let’s all do it,’ Alexa said. ‘It’s one of my favourite bits.’

‘I’ll get the stocking presents from the car,’ Frazier said. ‘But we’d better not put them in until the kids are definitely asleep. Or they’ll be up and opening them long before tomorrow.’

It was great fun, packing the stockings even though they had to wait until past midnight before putting them back into the bedrooms.

Phoebe and Sam had done their best not to overindulge Lily, knowing she’d be spoiled rotten by the grandparents too, and they’d agreed on just one big present for each other, but stockings were different.

Stockings were full of tiny surprises, and they’d had the best fun shopping for their baby daughter’s first Christmas.

* * *

To Phoebe’s surprise, none of the kids, not even Bertie and Flo, woke up before six the next day.

Or if they did, they didn’t get up until they heard the adults moving around.

Phoebe was up first. But once they were up, there was a stocking-opening fest in the kitchen.

The tree presents – which took up half of the front room and a good part of the hall – would be opened before lunch, which would happen sometime around two, but there was a lot to do before then.

There were animals to feed and clean, all of which took a lot longer when you were accompanied by children, Sam and Phoebe were discovering. And the rest of the Dashwoods, the Hendries, and Maggie and Eddie and their animals turned up at various intervals.

The excitement in the air at Puddleduck Farm was intense and the children were hyperactive.

The levels dropped off a little bit once they had opened their presents, but were rejigged again when Maggie and Eddie suggested everyone go for a walk around Puddleduck Farm and they’d give a prize to whoever spotted the first robin.

‘We’ll be back in time for lunch,’ she told Phoebe with a wink.

And they were. Even though lunch didn’t actually get to the table until just after three in the end.

A roast turkey and a nut wellington were served up with at least eight different vegetables, two types of gravy and various sauces.

Jan and Alexa had gone to town on the culinary side.

Frazier and Eddie were the only ones who could manage Christmas pudding and Christmas-pudding-flavoured ice cream straight after the main course.

Everyone else said they’d save it for the evening.

It was as they sat around at various points in the kitchen, with even Snowball and the dogs too full to move far, having had their own Christmas dinners, that Phoebe remembered to ask Maggie whether she had ever heard of kittens being stolen to order.

‘I have as it happens. Expensive breeds are worth stealing to order. They tend to be young because the thieves like to get them before they’re neutered, so they can be sold on to puppy and kitten mills and used as breeding animals.

It’s an absolute tragedy.’ Her face hardened as she spoke.

‘Why do you ask, love? Has one of your clients lost a kitten?’

Phoebe told her about Emilia’s kittens disappearing. ‘Although Archie did say they’d ruled out thieves the first time, because it’s not the kind of place where an opportunist thief would just turn up.’

‘You’re right there. They’d have to know where they were, but maybe someone did. Then I imagine it would be quite easy. The Holts will have tradespeople going in and out fairly often, I’d have thought.’

‘Yes, they would.’ Phoebe felt a little chill go through her.

‘That’s a horrible thought but I think you might be right.

’ She explained about Emilia having two lots of kittens stolen a few months apart.

And then about the Maine Coon that had gone missing back in September, but had been found in the forest the previous day.

‘He could have been dumped there,’ Maggie said. ‘Or he might have escaped from a kitten mill and been living rough for a while. That could explain why he was so thin. Did you say he was a tom cat?’

‘I did. Yes.’

‘And did you say the couple who owned him had just bought another similar-looking Maine Coon kitten?’

Phoebe suddenly realised where she was going with this. And so did the rest of the room. They’d all been going silent one by one as they’d tuned into the conversation.

‘You’re thinking the kitten they bought might actually have been sired by Oscar,’ she asked Maggie.

‘It’s possible.’ Maggie cleared her throat. ‘How old’s the kitten? Do the dates match up? Feline gestation’s about sixty-odd days, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is. So yes, it could be. Oh, my goodness, I hadn’t even thought of that.’

Maggie clicked her tongue. ‘Well, the good news is that Denise and her husband are in the perfect position to find out. They’ve got them both. A simple DNA test would prove it one way or the other.’

‘I’d have to clear it with them. But yes, it would certainly give us a good idea. And then we’d have some evidence that their cat had been stolen and used to sire kittens that would be sold on for profit.’

‘I’m not sure how you’d prove who he belonged to in the first place.’

‘His microchip was never changed. It still has their name and address on the database.’

‘So it’s unlikely whoever had Oscar released him then. If they didn’t bother changing the chip, which of course, technically they couldn’t, they were assuming he’d never be found. What about Emilia’s kittens? Were they microchipped?’

‘Very probably. I could check.’

‘Realistically the chances of finding them are slim.’ Maggie’s eyes were sad. ‘They’re probably hidden away in some barn somewhere producing litters; what kind of cats were they?’

‘Savannahs,’ Sam supplied. ‘Another valuable breed.’

‘But if we could track them down, we’d have plenty of evidence for the police,’ Phoebe finished.

‘Something to do in your spare time then?’ Maggie said, with heavy irony in her voice.

Phoebe sighed. ‘You’re right. I don’t have any spare time.

And it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Unless of course we knew exactly where Oscar the Maine Coon turned up.

Which I could probably find out. He was trapped in a ditch not far from Rufus’s place apparently.

So if he escaped, then wherever he came from has got to be reasonably local. ’

‘And Eddie and I do loads of forest walks. We could start with the ditch and work back and see what houses have gardens that back up onto the forest. Then we could do a recce. Couldn’t we, love?’

Maggie raised her voice to speak to her husband, but he was already following this conversation and was now shaking his head impatiently.

‘There’s no need to go messing around in ditches and clambering over fences,’ Eddie said.

‘Isn’t there?’ Disappointment flashed across Maggie’s face.

Phoebe suppressed a smile. Her grandmother might be in her mid-seventies, but she was definitely still up for an illicit adventure.

‘Nah. We just follow the money. We pretend we’re customers and go to the front door. The bloke’s got enough adverts. We’ll find out where he lives that way. We can soon sniff out a rat, I reckon.’

Phoebe looked at them both with a hesitant smile. ‘You will be careful, won’t you?’ She felt a flash of déjà vu. Who else had she said those words to lately?

Oh yes, the owl rescue team.

And that had turned out better than she’d hoped.