Chapter Twenty
In the end, Mandy slept better than she had expected. It was as if the storm of emotion had cleared her mind and she woke in the morning feeling much calmer. Her spirits rose a little, as she looked forward to the day. She had arranged for her dad to look after the animals so that she could visit James in York.
It had only been a week since Mandy had seen him, though it felt much longer. So much had happened. Lots of positives to tell James about, she reminded herself as she negotiated the roundabout on the way to his flat. She’d had good news about Lamb’s Wood Cottage. Nicole’s arrival at Hope Meadows was a bonus, too. And James would want to hear all about the donkeys’ training.
James was waiting for her on the doorstep with Seamus and Lily, who bounced around Mandy as if their paws were ping pong balls. Sky crouched behind Mandy for a minute before remembering that she had met these crazy hounds, and leaped out to join in.
‘I thought we could go a walk,’ James suggested, and Mandy nodded as she stroked Lily’s velvety brown ears.
With the dogs swirling at their feet, they headed into the centre of York and made their way down to the river. A whole box of Christmas had exploded throughout the city. There were trees and tinsel in all the shop windows, and coloured lights festooned the ancient buildings. Down by the Ouse, the riverbank was quiet. The three dogs trotted ahead, noses to the ground, as Mandy and James strolled along the leaf-strewn pathway.
A student cycled past wearing a pair of light-up antlers. They reminded Mandy of her dad and their card-writing session, which had begun so well but had ended with Emily’s collapse. She sighed.
‘Not feeling very festive?’ James prompted.
‘Not really,’ Mandy confessed.
‘I’m not either,’ James said. ‘I keep thinking about this time last year.’
Last year, James had spent the festive season with Paul in a hotel near Whitby. Paul had been well enough for Christmas with all the trimmings, and James had told Mandy all about their windswept walk on the beach and huge Victorian-themed lunch. Now, Mandy looked at the pain carved on James’s face. How she wished she could ease her friend’s grief.
A grey squirrel jumped onto the path in front of them, glanced around and then scampered off up one of the trees. Mandy watched as it disappeared. Too late, Seamus caught the squirrel’s scent and strained to the end of his lead, paws scrabbling on the stones.
‘So what’s wrong?’ Bending down to disentangle Lily, who had wrapped her lead around her paws, James looked up at her. ‘Is it Jimmy? You said you’d been seeing him, but you don’t seem full of the joys of romance to me.’ He stood up and started walking again. Ahead Mandy could see bright blue railings: a bridge over one of the tributaries to the river.
‘We were meant to be going out last night,’ she admitted. ‘Only I was out on Friday and I saw him in a bar in Walton with his ex.’
‘His ex?’ James echoed as they reached the bridge. They stopped at the apex, leaning on the railings. Upstream the brick flood barrier remained open despite yesterday’s rain.
‘Well, she was his ex, until last week,’ Mandy corrected herself. ‘Now they seem very much back together.’
James’s eyes were sympathetic. ‘That sucks,’ he said. Pushing themselves off the railings, they carried on walking.
‘There’s been some other stuff going on, too.’ Though she hadn’t meant to trouble him, Mandy realised she needed to talk to someone before her head exploded.
‘What sort of stuff?’
They were passing houses on the left. In the distance, Mandy could see the Millennium Bridge with its distinctive arch. ‘Weird things,’ she said. ‘A hole appeared in the hedge so the dogs could have got onto the road. Someone called Harper’s and cancelled my food delivery. A horrible review of the campsite on TripAdvisor about barking from the centre and a stupid petition in the post office. It’s as if someone is determined to close down Hope Meadows!’ She stopped, slightly horrified by how long the list had become.
James was silent, and Mandy felt the rush of guilt she always felt these days if she unloaded her problems on him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know you have enough on your plate.’
But James was staring at her in dismay. ‘No need to be sorry.’ Putting both dog leads into one hand, he reached out and hugged her. ‘That’s awful.’ He let go and began walking again. ‘Nobody got hurt, did they? From the hole in the hedge. None of the animals managed to escape?’
Typical James, Mandy thought. Like her, he always had animals at the forefront of his mind. ‘None of the dogs got out,’ she assured him. ‘Nobody’s been hurt.’
‘Still awful though.’ His voice was intense. ‘Have you been to the police?’
Mandy admitted that she had.
‘You will make sure they’re following it up?’ James urged her. ‘Keep in contact with Ellen Armstrong. It sounds like some kind of hate crime.’
Mandy winced. Put like that, it seemed as if she had got off lightly. So far.
James seemed to read her mind. ‘It sounds as if things are escalating. You have to find out who’s behind it before some real damage is done.’ He stopped at the entrance to a bridge and looked at her, his brown eyes serious behind his glasses. ‘No wonder you’re not in the mood for Christmas.’
Halfway across, they leaned over the wall to look down at the dark, swirling water. James reached down to rub Seamus’s head. ‘About Jimmy and his ex,’ he said. ‘Is there any chance it could be a misunderstanding?’
Mandy shook her head. ‘I did wonder about that,’ she admitted. ‘I knew they were still friends. I’d seen them out together once before, back when I was still going out with Simon. But they were holding hands across the table. She even kissed him as she went up to the bar.’ She clenched her teeth to stop herself talking.
‘I’m sorry you had to find out that way.’ James reached out a hand to give her shoulder a squeeze. ‘Whatever happens, it’s better to know the truth, don’t you think? If Jimmy’s not the one, you’ll be free to find someone else.’
‘What about you?’ They were still leaning on the wall. The water slid beneath them, flowing steadily south to the North Sea. ‘Do you ever think about finding someone else?’
Beside her, Mandy felt a deep shudder run through her friend. The muscles in his jaw bunched. ‘Sorry,’ she said, cursing her insensitivity. ‘One day I’ll learn to keep my big mouth shut.’
James managed a pained smile. ‘Please don’t,’ he said. ‘So many people don’t know what to say that they don’t say anything at all. There’s nothing you could say that will offend me.’
They wandered on. ‘How are your mum and dad?’ James called as he waited for Seamus to finish sniffing a lamp post.
Mandy felt the colour drain from her face. She had been hoping James wouldn’t ask. It didn’t seem fair to spring the massive question mark over Emily’s health on him so soon after Paul. James loved Emily like a favourite aunt. Mandy knew she could try to lie, but he would see straight through her.
Their steps suddenly seemed very loud on the path. Beside them a boat chugged upstream, struggling against the current.
‘Mum’s not well,’ Mandy admitted, when the silence had stretched so thin that the air felt like glass. ‘She collapsed on Tuesday.’ James kept walking. His face was white, but he glanced expectantly at Mandy, waiting for more information. ‘She’s at home,’ Mandy went on. ‘Getting lots of rest. We’re waiting for blood results.’ She stopped, holding her breath. How would James react?
‘I’m so sorry.’ It sounded as if James was finding it hard to speak. ‘I do know …’ He trailed off, his jaw set.
He knew better than most. There were tears in his eyes, and Mandy felt her face starting to crumple. Her relationship with her parents was unusually strong. She had been adopted as a baby, but both Mum and Dad had loved her so unquestioningly, with such steadiness, that she had never felt like anything other than their precious daughter. Dad was Dad, the best father in the world, hardworking, teasing and full of fun. The easiest person in the world to be with, a source of everything that was positive in life.
Mandy’s relationship with Emily had been more subtle: harder to define. Mum had trusted Mandy. Shown faith in her judgement, given her space to be ruled by her own conscience. She was, on some level, the person who had influenced Mandy most. Without her, Mandy would have been a very different person.
‘There’s nothing I can say that will help.’ James’s voice broke through her thoughts, steadier than Mandy expected. ‘I hope you get some answers soon. Try not to worry.’
Good advice. Almost impossible to apply. James reached for Mandy’s hand and gripped it so hard, it was almost painful. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’ he urged, then, ‘you will let me know, won’t you?’
Mandy swallowed. ‘Of course I will.’
For several long moments, they walked onwards. In front of them, the dogs trotted side by side, fur brushing together. Mandy envied them their innocence, their trust in the humans closest to them to keep everything safe and as it should be.
James picked up the pace. ‘We should go back via the bookshop,’ he suggested. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’
‘That sounds good,’ Mandy said, trying to pull herself together. She adored James’s little bookshop-café, with its nooks and crannies and tumbling heaps of utterly readable books.
They made their way back along the riverbank, through Rowntree Park. A few barges were moored close to the narrow road that ran along the riverside, though there was little life to be seen. Mandy began to feel calmer as they walked through the city centre. They threaded their way past tourists and shoppers until they reached James’s shop. Mandy stopped outside to admire the decorations in the window. The space behind the glass had been transformed into an animal-themed snow scene, complete with sledging kittens as well as a tasteful miniature tree, hung with little animals and white lights that shone warm in the softly lit interior.
‘Sherrie’s done a fantastic job,’ James said as she peered in. ‘Come on in.’ He opened the door. ‘We can put the dogs in the staffroom,’ he added, leading Lily and Seamus through and taking off their leads. Mandy and Sky followed.
‘What did you want to show me?’ Mandy asked. ‘Was it the window?’
‘It was not.’ For the first time since Paul had died, James’s eyes were properly twinkling. He led her round into one of the cosy alcoves further back in the shop. ‘Look.’ He held out his arms.
A table stood in the recess holding an array of animal books, non-fiction as well as classic stories, beautifully arranged. Above the display, straight in front of Mandy, there was a poster on the wall. Mandy glanced at it, then stared. It was a picture of two young donkeys who looked very familiar. Behind them, she recognised the unmistakeable lines of her rescue centre. It was Holly and Robin, she realised. On her left, she saw a photo of Sky that she had taken back in the summer on top of Norland Fell. When she turned to her right, she felt herself turn red. She was looking at a photograph of herself, beaming with a newborn lamb in her arms. She hoped that wasn’t a smear of poop on her cheek.
A notice was pinned to the front edge of the table: ‘All proceeds from the sale of these books will be donated to Hope Meadows Rescue Centre.’
‘What do you think?’ Sherrie had come over and was standing beside James. Her white-blonde hair was tied back in beaded dreadlocks, and she was wearing patched turquoise dungarees over a handknitted purple sweater.
‘It was Sherrie who made the posters,’ James explained. ‘Using photos from your website.’
‘I hope you don’t mind.’ Sherrie sounded a little anxious.
‘Mind?’ There were tears in Mandy’s eyes. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I definitely don’t mind.’ She looked at the posters again, then back down at the books. There was a small spotlight in the corner illuminating the table. The books looked appetising for every age and preference of animal lover, from picture book stories to a guide to endangered feline species in Asia. ‘It’s wonderful,’ she said. ‘Thanks so much.’ She turned and squeezed James’s hand, then Sherrie’s. ‘Thanks, both of you.’
‘We’ve been selling Hope Meadows biscuits too,’ Sherrie told her. Mandy followed her round to the counter. Glass jars ran the full length, containing different-shaped animal biscuits. There were cats and reindeer, rabbits and sheep. There was even a tortoise. All of them were cheerfully iced.
Sherrie traced her finger along the side of a jar of rabbits. ‘My niece India helped me with these. She’s only ten, but I can tell you that her icing skills are far better than mine! It was her idea to use chocolate chips for the noses.’
‘May I buy one?’ Mandy asked. Is James telepathic, she wondered? She had been planning to ask him about fundraising ideas, and he was several leaps ahead already. The proceeds from biscuits and books wouldn’t make much of a dent in her overdraft, but they would definitely feed several animals for a while. Mandy pressed her hand against his cheek. ‘I can’t believe you’ve done all this.’
James grinned at her. ‘Isn’t this what we’ve always done?’ he said. ‘We help animals as a team. You didn’t think I’d leave you to do it all on your own, did you?’
She wanted to hug him, but the door opened and a customer came in, and then another.
‘Give us a hand?’ Sherrie suggested.
As the afternoon rush started and the café filled up, Mandy found herself feeling properly festive for the first time. The animal biscuits sold well, especially the rabbits with chocolate noses. Sherrie had made some special Christmas soup of sprout and parsnip. Despite sounding awful, it was warming and delicious. ‘It’s tastier than it sounds,’ Mandy told people as they came in. She could feel her grin grow wider each time she said it.
‘Merry Christmas!’ she called out as the last customers, an elderly couple in matching pom-pom hats, made their way to the door.
‘You too,’ they replied.
Together, the three of them began to tidy up the last of the crockery. Mandy wiped the tables while Sherrie sorted out the till. James was washing a few glasses by hand. When they were finished, Mandy looked round the room. It had been an amazing afternoon, and her worries felt dimmed in a haze of goodwill. A couple of people, recognising her from the photo, had asked about the rescue centre. There had been nothing but positivity from everyone she had spoken to.
‘Here!’ As she pulled on her coat to leave, Sherrie held out a piece of paper. It was a cheque for £600. ‘To buy Christmas food for your animals,’ Sherrie said.
‘It’s an ongoing project,’ James told her. ‘There’ll be more to come.’
Feeling the prickle of grateful tears behind her eyes, Mandy reached out and hugged Sherrie and then James. ‘This has been the best day I’ve had in a long time,’ she said. ‘Thank you both so much for everything.’
Calling to Sky, clutching the precious donation, she set off back to the car for the long drive home.