Page 3 of Christmas at the Home Farm Vets (Hartfell Village #2)

St Catharine’s College, Cambridge, Michaelmas term, thirteen years ago

Erin had thought the university open day and the information she’d received for new undergraduates had given her a good sense of what to expect, until she’d arrived in Cambridge on a mild September morning as a nervous and suddenly uncertain student full of doubts.

She was worried about her mum too, helping to fetch her belongings by train and then bus, before settling Erin into very pleasant and fully furnished accommodation with meals catered, a luxury she wasn’t used to.

Heather was often plagued by fibromyalgia flare-ups, which brought more pain and fatigue, and it was one of the reasons why she and Erin had moved in with Heather’s parents all those years ago.

Erin’s life, growing up with her family in an everyday Yorkshire town, was one of practicalities and without frill or fuss.

Her grandad had retired early from mining with lungs no longer at full capacity, and they made do with Heather’s part-time hours in a florist shop and her nan’s cleaning job, plus the seamstress work that kept Joyce bent over her sewing table every day.

As soon as she was old enough Erin had taken over the cooking, trying to ease the burden on everyone else.

Her grandad did what he could, and it still frustrated him that he was no longer the main breadwinner in the family.

Their house was an ex-council one that her grandparents had scraped together enough money to buy, and most of the furniture was older than them.

A narrow three-bedroom terrace with a long, thin garden, Erin slept in the box room at the front, which she’d decorated herself after saving up some earnings from her part-time job in a charity shop.

Her grandad spent most of his time tinkering in his shed or pottering slowly in the garden, tending the vegetables he loved to grow and which they depended on.

Books and the library had been her escape, and she’d devoured everything, from children’s stories and classics like the Brontes and Jane Austen, to James Herriot, non-fiction books on the natural world and every kind of animal.

She’d loved animals for as long as she could remember, and volunteered for a local shelter.

Later Erin had spent her work experience weeks with a charity providing veterinary care for people who couldn’t easily afford it, those for whom life without their adored animals might have been almost unbearable.

Occasionally she and her mum took the bus into the Dales for a day out, and Erin would dream of being a qualified vet and living in the place she’d fallen in love with, reading James Herriot’s books.

She was a gifted student, aware that hard work and excellent results would give her choices, and might help put her family on a path to a better life.

One where they didn’t sometimes have to worry about choosing between heat or a hot meal in the winter.

She’d left high school with A-starred results across the board and followed up with top marks in three sciences at college.

Soon after she’d had offers from both Cambridge and Edinburgh.

She chose St Catharine’s, aware that a Cambridge First pinned to her CV could set her apart, and she wasn’t leaving home and her family for anything less.

Erin dared not even think of the dizzying debt she would incur, despite the increased bursary afforded to those who’d received free school meals.

Ahead of her now lay six testing years of hard graft and absolutely nothing was going to stand in the way of her ambition.

Michaelmas term began with Matriculation, students’ official registration onto their degree courses.

She wore the only suitable outfit she possessed for the formal ceremony, a black dress that sat neatly just below the knee and a gown bought from a previous student.

Before leaving home she’d splashed out on her first-ever professional haircut and although she loved the new bangs framing her face, she felt they made her appear even younger than her eighteen years, a milestone she’d passed just three months ago in June.

The strange black gown was also unfamiliar, and she wondered anxiously how much she stood out, if the bursary she’d needed to get here and her life in an ordinary Yorkshire town was as obvious to everyone else as it felt to her.

She tried not to make herself conspicuous amongst the other students, almost all of whom seemed much glossier and way more confident than her.

She’d waved her mum off outside the Porters’ Lodge, trying to hold back her fears for Heather on the return journey and how her mum would cope each day without her help. She had once mentioned not going to university at all and finding a job instead, but her mum had been vehemently against it.

After the ceremony, the freshers made their way to Main Court for the official photographs, surrounded on three sides by magnificent and notable buildings, lining up to take their seats facing an immaculate green lawn and the college’s grand entrance between a pair of high stone pillars topped with finials.

Erin stared in awe at her new surroundings, still slightly dazed she had joined the historic list of college members and that her name here would live on.

She noticed him immediately; it was impossible not to.

Half a head above the boy nearest him, this one already carried the authority of a man, albeit a very young one.

Dark auburn hair swept back from a high forehead glinted in the early autumn sunshine and she was near enough to notice a scattering of freckles across his face as he turned to laugh at something his companion was saying.

His mouth was outlined by perfect bow-shaped lips above a square jaw, and something strange erupted in her stomach.

Thoroughly distracted by both him and the occasion, her left foot caught a chair leg and dislodged it.

‘You numpty,’ she blurted out. It was her nan’s favourite word for nearly everything and the habit had stuck.

Erin’s arm shot out to catch the chair and she was aware of a few heads turning to stare.

Including, she was mortified to see, the tall and good-looking boy on whom her gaze had been clamped.

Horribly conscious of heat staining her cheeks as his amused gaze caught hers, she glared back, silently daring him to suggest she was out of place here because those two words had revealed her to be a plain-speaking Yorkshire lass.

Still clutching the chair, her free hand darted to the shorter strawberry blonde curls grazing her shoulders.

His eyes followed the gesture and sent her pulse into a spin as his lips widened into a smile.

His hand reached out and she felt the unwelcome brush of his fingers as he too took hold of the chair.

‘I’m sorry, how clumsy of me.’ The only accent evident in his low voice was the one she’d expected, speaking of privilege and private schools. ‘Please, let me.’

‘It wasn’t your fault. It was me who knocked it. Bloody heels.’

‘But still.’ Between them they righted the chair and there was no reason to linger.

She realised eyes she’d thought were grey were actually blue and they were still fixed on hers as other students edged past them.

If there had been room in the line Erin would’ve planted her hands on her hips like her nan did when she was mad about something and asked him what he thought he was staring at.

She was caught, trapped by his attention and an overwhelming feeling of attraction she’d never experienced before.

She turned down invitations for dates, and would-be boyfriends drifted away when they realised how much time she devoted to her studies and her dream of securing an independent future, one where she wouldn’t be left behind with nothing, like her mum when her father had disappeared.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Why do you want to know?’ Her cheeks felt as though they were on fire, and it had nothing to do with the chair she’d almost knocked over.

‘Because I just do.’ His smile was a lazy one and she couldn’t think why he was still lingering, unless it was to drag out her humiliation. Seconds crawled by as she tried to decide how to respond, half hoping her silence would give him her reply instead.

‘Okay, so then I guess I’ll see you around, stranger.

’ The amusement in his face faded and she had the inexplicable sense that he’d just seen straight through to her soul, as though every part of her had been laid bare before him.

She couldn’t even take a step back for fear she’d crash into someone else and embarrass herself all over again.

He turned and she took a steadying breath, trying not to follow him with her eyes as he moved away.

Erin found out later his name was Oli Sterling and that he was also planning to become a vet.

From his voice and the crowd who surrounded him, she didn’t imagine that his grandad had played in his old colliery brass band until he hadn’t got enough breath left to blow, or his nan worked two jobs to put food on the table in between running the home and helping her grown-up daughter when she was experiencing a bad flare-up.

After the box room back home her accommodation felt huge, and it took Erin a while to settle in.

White walls and pale wood furnishings were clean and plain, and she filled the shelves above her desk with items from home, like the cross stich of a Persian cat her nan had made for her, a favourite quote from Christopher Robin about being stronger than she knew, and the photos from her time with the animal sanctuary, reminding her daily why she was here.