Page 20 of All Wrapped Up

I became worried on the not too lengthy drive back to Rowan Cottage that Pixie hadn’t coped well with being left home alone for a few hours on her first evening.

In fact, I was so preoccupied with my concerns about her that they completely knocked everything else I had to think about clean out of my head.

‘Penny for them?’ Ash asked, making me jump. ‘You will be able to do it all, you know,’ he carried on when I didn’t answer. ‘And I’ll keep my promise. I’ll help as much as I possibly can.’

‘It’s not the festival,’ I said, willing the journey to go faster. ‘Though there is an awful lot for us to get our heads around. Right now, I’m more concerned about Pixie.’

‘Well, we’re almost back now,’ Ash sensibly pointed out. ‘And I’m certain she’s been fine. You know me well enough by now, Clemmie, to know that I wouldn’t have suggested she could be left if I had thought she’d be upset.’

‘Of course,’ I sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise,’ he said kindly. ‘It’s truly wonderful that she has someone taking care of her who loves her so much.’

Thankfully, my concern that Pixie hadn’t been happy home alone turned out to be entirely unfounded. She was ecstatic to see us but didn’t appear fazed about having been left.

‘If anything,’ said Ash, as he gave her a huge fuss, ‘it’s given her time to mooch about and get her tactic for making it up to your bedroom tonight settled in her mind.’

‘Oh, she doesn’t need a tactic,’ I told him as I set down the paperwork I’d accrued throughout the evening. ‘There was never any question that I’d make her sleep down here.’

Ash rolled his eyes at that. ‘You’re every bit as bad as I was,’ he laughed.

‘Well,’ I said, looking at Pixie’s perfect little face, ‘she needs nurturing.’

‘Don’t we all.’

‘Yes,’ I said soberly. ‘A little love goes a long way.’

Talk of love felt like risky territory to try and traverse after such a monumental evening, so I was happy when Ash didn’t pursue the topic.

‘I’m working tomorrow,’ he told me, ‘but if you need a hand on Friday and Saturday, just holler.’

‘Won’t you be driving back up to Bakewell again?’

‘I wanted to, but Mum has insisted I don’t need to. Nan has told her that she’d rather I visited when she’s moved into the annexe, because she’s still in hospital at the moment and visiting there is no fun.’

‘In that case,’ I said, ‘if I do need you, I certainly will holler.’

‘You can rest assured,’ he said with a smile, ‘I’ll be listening out.’

I made the mistake that night of not leaving it long enough after the meeting before I went to bed.

Consequently, I lay awake for ages with my recent dramatic life changes, festival ideas and thoughts of new friends circling interminably around in my head.

It was all exciting, of course, but a lot to get my head around, too.

Pixie had no such qualms keeping her awake and softly snored away with barely a twitch which was a blessing and a relief. I eventually drifted off, but my few hours didn’t feel anywhere near as restorative as they had been the first night she’d been my bedfellow.

‘I have news,’ I announced when Dad answered my WhatsApp call early the next morning.

‘News that couldn’t wait until a civil hour?’ He yawned. ‘Your mum’s still in bed.’

‘This is a civil hour,’ I tutted, as I opened the back door to let Pixie back in and it was wrenched out of my hand and then banged shut.

It was a properly blustery day and I hoped the washing wasn’t going to get blown off the line. With nothing blocking its path, the wind cut straight over the Fenland fields and across the garden, but its uninterrupted path did make for wonderfully fresh smelling laundry.

‘You’ve got the windy weather then,’ commented Dad, having heard the door.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And it’s chilly, too. I might be tempted to light the log burner later.’

‘In September,’ he said, sounding horrified. ‘Whatever next.’

‘It’s cold,’ I said, defensively, then smiled remembering the never-ending battle between him and Mum that occurred every winter over the heating thermostat. ‘Go and wake Mum up, will you?’

‘I am awake,’ came her voice. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Clemmie has news,’ said Dad, propping the phone on the kitchen table so they could both sit and see it.

‘Is everything all right?’ Mum frowned.

‘Everything is wonderful,’ I said, bending to pick Pixie up.

After her trip to the garden, her paws felt cold through the thin cotton of my dressing gown and I thought I’d switch a few things about in my wardrobe and drawers when I could find two seconds together.

Not that I minded not currently having two seconds together because the prospect of the festival was a more pleasant one than a winter spent alone.

‘You’ve got Pixie again.’ Mum smiled, as Pixie sniffed the screen and her damp nose left a mark.

‘I’ve got Pixie for good,’ I grinned, looking around her.

‘For good?’

‘I’ve adopted her,’ I proudly announced.

‘Adopted her?’ Dad said. ‘But when you had her before, you said you were looking after her for a friend.’

‘I was,’ I agreed, then explained Pixie’s previously sad circumstances.

‘Well,’ sniffed Mum. ‘She couldn’t have ended up with anyone better than you, could she, love? You know what she’s going through because you’ve been there yourself.’

Dad put his arm around Mum and I wished that I was there with them and could do the same. I wouldn’t have minded a hug myself.

‘Exactly,’ I said briskly, giving Pixie a squeeze. ‘I’m hopeful I can help her through her sadness. In fact,’ I smiled, as she licked my chin, ‘I think I already am.’

‘Well, that’s wonderful, my love,’ said Dad. ‘What lovely news to start the day with.’

‘And that’s not my only headline,’ I added, as I put Pixie down and she wandered into the kitchen. ‘You remember the town event I mentioned that was on, then off?’

‘Yes,’ my parents chorused.

‘Well,’ I said, taking a deep breath as I refused to feel daunted by the mountain of notes waiting for my attention, ‘it’s on again. Properly this time and I’m in charge of organising it.’

Dad was agog.

‘What, the whole thing?’ Mum gasped.

‘Pretty much,’ I laughed. ‘I’m going to have a bit of help, but I’m responsible for the scheduling and advertising and the overall managing of it.’

‘My goodness.’ Dad grinned. ‘And can you finally tell us what the event is?’

‘I can,’ I said, sitting up straighter. ‘It’s called the Wynbridge Autumn Festival and it’s going to involve a whole series of events to celebrate the season.’

‘In the heart of pumpkin country.’ Mum clapped. ‘How absolutely perfect.’

‘It hopefully will be, Mum,’ I agreed. ‘The idea for it originally came from a local farmer who sadly died and didn’t get the chance to see it come to fruition. This will be the first time it’s happened.’

‘And the woman taking it on just happens to be obsessed with autumn,’ chimed in Dad. ‘It’s bound to be top notch with you in charge, my love. I know you’ll do the farmer proud.’

That was what Lizzie had reckoned, too, so I hoped they were both right and I could pull it off successfully.

‘Thanks, Dad. I’ll email you the schedule as soon as I’ve got it sorted,’ I promised. ‘And then we can work out the best time for you to come.’

Mum and Dad loved the sound of that and after further cooing over Pixie who took their attention with good grace, I signed off and set to, working through the many pages of meeting notes.

Once I’d arranged them into piles according to what everyone was offering, I then printed out blank calendar pages for September, October and November.

It was exciting to have things to immediately fill in, such as the launch date and times when the town would be decorated in readiness for it.

After adding those, however, it was all a bit trickier to work out as I had to add events according to when the people offering to hold them were available to organise and run them.

I pencilled in any significant dates such as the equinox, the best time to see the Draconid meteor shower (weather permitting, of course), bonfire night, Halloween and half term and then further filled in as much as I could, making sure there was a balance of everything, with no long gaps anywhere and then, conversely, not too many things, especially if they were similar, clustered together.

The combination of practical craft workshops, outdoor nature events, reading opportunities, food and drink celebrations, special market days and pumpkin competitions, struck exactly the right chord with me and I hoped everyone who wanted to attend, though not Jason who had now been barred from The Mermaid, would be in agreement.

I also hoped all of the businesses I’d offered spots to would be able to stick to them as it would be tricky to change things around without having a knock-on effect.

‘As long as everyone goes along with the dates they gave me last night,’ I said to Pixie, who was eagerly making her presence felt, ‘then I don’t think we’ll have any issues. Now, what’s up with you?’

As I went to stroke her, my tummy gave the loudest rumble and I realised exactly what was up with her.

‘It’s almost two o’clock, Pixie,’ I gasped. ‘We’ve missed lunch!’

I fed her first, then quickly scrambled some eggs, grilled some cherry tomatoes and toasted a slice of sourdough to stave off my own pangs.

An email from Hayley, suggesting we could meet in the town library at ten thirty the next day so she could show me, rather than send me, what she’d come up with for the festival branding, landed while I was eating and I messaged Ash in the hope that he would be able to join us.

The branding and logo designs would become the online face of the festival, quite possibly for longer than just this year and I really wanted Ash’s input when deciding on how it should look, as it was quite a responsibility.

‘I’d love to help. Count me in. I’ll pick you up around ten,’ I read aloud, when Ash replied within a couple of minutes.

Excellent, I sent back. See you tomorrow!

My phone pinged again. It’s a date. I stared at the three words and remembered Joanne’s former determination to push us together. Not a date, date! came through immediately after and was accompanied by the grimacing emoji.

‘I knew what you meant,’ I whispered as I typed, after just a moment’s hesitation, because I knew that Ash could see that I had read what he’d sent and I didn’t want him to think I was pondering over it, even though I was.

See you tomorrow , I added, along with a smiley face and then I put my phone down and decided it was time to get the washing in and take Pixie for a windy walk.

‘Oh, wow,’ said Ash, when I opened the cottage door to him the following day. ‘Clemmie, you look amazing.’

‘Do I?’ I asked in surprise, as I looked down at the patterned dress and red patent Mary Janes I’d picked out. I didn’t think it was anything particularly special but the compliment, coming straight after the ‘it’s a date’ discomfiture of the day before, made my cheeks flush.

‘Totally,’ Ash huskily said, then cleared his throat. ‘Very smart. No one’s going to question your role as festival organiser looking like that. Not that anyone would… what I mean is…’

His words trailed off as Pixie wandered over to say hello and, with my attention then focused on her, I reasoned it was the text muddle that had got Ash a bit tongue-tied rather than anything else.

‘Is she okay?’ Ash asked, as the little hound sighed when he fussed her and then wandered over to her bed and flopped heavily into it.

She’d been a little subdued that morning and I had reminded myself that grief probably impacted on animals in much the same way as it did humans.

I could now go for great stretches of time feeling fine, and then wallop, something would suddenly trigger me out of the blue and I’d feel its dreaded weight all over again.

Or worse, nothing I could identify or pinpoint would occur, but I’d feel low anyway and without the benefit of knowing where the shift in emotion had sprung from.

I knew I was playing my part in Pixie’s recovery, but it would have been foolish, and perhaps rather arrogant, to assume that I was the answer to her prayers. Just because she was apparently content living in Rowan Cottage, it didn’t mean that her heart had healed.

‘Sadly, I think she’s having a low day.’ I sighed in sympathy myself.

‘In that case,’ Ash suggested, ‘we’d best take her with us.’

‘To the library?’ I frowned.

‘Yes. Come on, Pixie.’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked, as Pixie climbed back out of her barely used bed.

‘Yes, absolutely. Can you grab her harness out of your Land Rover?’

‘You’re really being serious?’ I questioned. ‘You did hear me when I reminded you that we’re going to the library, didn’t you? I don’t think they allow dogs in there.’

‘I take it you haven’t visited the library then?’ Ash smiled.

‘Not yet. Why? What am I missing?’

‘The manager, Kay, has an ancient golden lab who sleeps behind the counter all day,’ Ash told me. ‘Sandy and Pixie are great friends. He’ll cheer her up no end.’

‘Oh well, in that case,’ I said, gathering up my notebook, bag and keys. ‘As long as you’re sure Sandy will be there, let’s get going.’