Page 15 of Christmas at the Home Farm Vets (Hartfell Village #2)

Hartfell, present day

By Friday and the end of their first week, Erin was gradually settling into a new routine at home with Oli.

She avoided him in the mornings by eating breakfast early and arriving at the practice before everyone else, and he would follow about thirty minutes later.

They sat through the staff briefings and wherever possible she confined conversation to work and little else.

He’d eaten out every evening so far and she had no idea where he went; she was generally in bed by the time he returned.

She and Gil usually split the farm calls in the mornings and picked up whatever else needed doing in the afternoons, from consultations and routine tasks like dentals, to other surgeries and emergencies.

This evening there was a live nativity procession through the village, followed by carols with the local brass band outside the church.

She would be on call from Saturday and was hoping for a relatively quiet weekend.

For now out-of-hours calls on weekday evenings were covered by two alternating agency locums.

She had intended to go home and shower before Oli arrived but an emergency call to a cow with a nasty gash on its face put paid to her plans.

The farm was almost twenty miles away and the day was already edging towards dusk when she set out.

A cold, frosty evening was on the way, and she always carried extra layers, snacks and a shovel in the pickup in case of snow.

When she reached the farm the cow was already secured in a metal crush, a narrow pen holding her firmly in place, and the worried farmer explained that he thought she’d caught herself on a post she’d worn loose scratching herself.

Erin examined the beautiful red-and-white Dales Shorthorn cow and set about neatly stitching the wound back together, arranging with the farmer to remove the stitches another day.

Oli wasn’t in when she arrived home, and she was glad to warm up beneath a shower. She darted into the hall afterwards, thinking about whether she could one day extend the kitchen and put a sofa bed in the sitting room so her mum could…

‘Oh!’ She skidded to a halt at the sight of Oli at the kettle, a mug in his hand. Clutching the towel tightly with trembling fingers, her face flamed. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back!’

‘What, ever?’ he quipped, busy with the box of teabags.

‘No, before tonight,’ she muttered, trying not to shiver. She told herself it was because of the cold.

‘I was making you a brew. Thought it would be a chilly one, treating that cow.’ He turned around and the mug in his hand clattered onto the worktop. ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you weren’t, er…’

‘It’s fine.’ It wasn’t at all. Her pulse was racing, and she hadn’t missed the low note in his hurried apology and the way his eyes had skimmed over her.

The last time she’d faced him similarly dressed she’d whipped off her shirt to stand before him in her bra and a short skirt right after they’d kissed.

She was thinking of it now, his mouth demanding and skilful on hers, and how she’d instinctively known how to respond even though she’d never been kissed before.

‘Would you mind some company at the nativity?’ Oli hastily turned away and switched the kettle on. ‘I thought maybe we could walk down together. Jess mentioned everyone’s going to the pub afterwards.’

‘Isn’t it a bit… rural, for someone like you?’

‘And what do you mean by that?’ He sounded more amused than annoyed, and Erin tried to clarify.

‘I didn’t have you down as someone who enjoyed village life, that’s all. I always imagine you more at home in the city.’

‘I can do rural with the best of them. So what else do you imagine about me?’

‘Nothing.’ She swallowed, clutching the towel a bit tighter. She could do without that playful tone. ‘Will you be ready in time? I’m leaving soon.’ They could arrive together, she supposed, it wasn’t like she’d have to spend the entire evening with him.

‘Right now I’m more ready than you.’ Oli’s eyes flickered to her face, and she saw the smile he was trying to hold back. ‘What about your brew?’

‘Sorry, I don’t think I’ve got time. It was a nice thought, though. Thanks.’

‘Another time,’ he said lightly. ‘Meet you down here then?’

‘Okay.’ Erin edged past him and ran up to her bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later she was layered up in a Fair Isle sweater over a thermal vest, with jeans and knee-length boots beneath her winter coat and a woolly hat, the curls she’d grown longer since graduating loose.

Oli was ready too, a green beanie in place.

The evening air was bracing when they stepped outside, stars sparkling in a clear sky.

The shop window had been transformed into an old-fashioned sweet shop for the festive season, with candy canes, a gingerbread house and jars of sweets nestled amongst a snowy background.

Erin greeted people she knew, some of them clients whose animals she’d treated.

She’d already asked Edmund if he’d like to join her, and he’d thanked her but refused, as he was eating with a friend first and planned to arrive later.

Children were skipping along, presumably hoping for a glimpse of Father Christmas.

A few little ones were in shepherd costumes, ready to take their place in the procession.

The brass band was gathered on the village green opposite the pub, head torches in place to light up sheet music pinned to their instruments.

Erin felt a sharp pang for the days when she’d played in her grandad’s old colliery band, her cornet gifted by an elderly member who had no more use for it.

A few stalls offering refreshments had been set up and she waved to Kenny from the pub, serving mulled cider and wine from one with his partner Vince.

‘Can I tempt you, Erin?’ Kenny called, waving a paper cup. ‘Although you don’t look as though you need warming up.’

‘Yes please.’ Erin hadn’t eaten in the pub often, but Kenny was always lovely and welcoming whenever she did.

His cropped hair was gunmetal grey, matching a short, sharp beard.

The food, cooked by Vince, who’d trained in Paris, was amazing and she was planning to take her mum for lunch one Sunday.

She wasn’t on call until tomorrow so she could treat herself to one drink, and she accepted the delicious-smelling wine Kenny offered.

‘Thanks Kenny.’ She was aware of Oli halting at her side. ‘This is Oli, who’s working as a locum with us until Christmas.’

‘We’ve already met, my darling.’ Kenny winked at Erin and Oli laughed as he accepted a cup of mulled wine.

‘He’s eaten with us every night this week, I adore finding new regulars.

I keep asking when he’s planning to bring you along as well, but he won’t say.

I do love a man who won’t kiss and tell. ’

‘Oh!’ Erin’s gaze jumped to Oli, and he raised a shoulder.

She’d wondered where he went each night but hadn’t imagined he was so close.

Did he hate her company so much that he’d rather eat an admittedly very nice but not cheap dinner in the pub to avoid her every evening?

Perhaps it was her fault; she hadn’t exactly thrown him much of a welcome and had made clear he was on his own when it came to meals and cooking.

‘So will I see you both later, for drinks after the carols?’ Vince was busy serving another customer, and Erin nodded at Kenny. ‘Perfect. I’ve reserved a table for the practice, got to make sure there’s room for you all.’

‘Thanks, Kenny. See you later.’ She looked at Oli, wanting to make amends. ‘So can I buy you a turkey roll, as a belated welcome?’

‘I’d like that. Thanks.’ They joined a queue and once they’d got their rolls, filled with turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce and sausages, laughing as they tried not to let anything fall out, they made their way over the bridge towards the church to wait for the procession.

Elaine was there with a friend and Erin waved at Jess queueing for drinks further down with her partner Noah.

‘So you were right, this is all very quaint.’ Oli rolled his empty wrapper into a ball and tossed it into a bin. He held out a hand for Erin’s too, and she thanked him as he disposed of it. He stamped his feet as the procession on the green began to assemble into some sort of order.

‘You would say that.’ She caught the gleam of his smile through the dark. ‘Didn’t they have the story of Jesus’s birth in Marlborough, then?’

‘I think they probably did but I can’t say I’ve ever seen it performed live.

Anyway, I was referring to the brass band.

I’ve never forgotten you signing me up for rehearsals when we were freshers and conning me into thinking it was the real ale society.

It sounded like a load of cats trying to fight their way out of tin cans when I turned up. ’

‘That’s bloody rude,’ Erin retorted, shoving him in the ribs with an elbow, and he laughed.

‘I was trying to educate you. You obviously have no appreciation of proper music.’ She was remembering her surprise when he’d actually showed up and found a roomful of students rehearsing.

He’d been nonplussed for a few moments before his charm had kicked in and he’d excused himself, but not before flashing her a grin that promised some form of retribution.

She’d received an email not long after, welcoming her to the university’s improvised comedy club.

She’d gone along to a workshop just to prove a point and Oli wrong about her willingness to at least check it out.

‘I can see now my efforts were in vain.’