Chapter Twenty-Four
A dusting of snow stippled the fellside by morning. The sky had cleared, though extreme weather warnings were still being read out in dire tones on the radio. Mandy sat in the reception of Hope Meadows looking out of the window. She was waiting for the Dillon family. They were due to collect Melon at eleven o’clock.
She felt a beat of excitement when their car drew up five minutes early. Standing up, she went and pulled the door open. Mandy was pleased to see that Sam and Buddy were with their parents. Both of them looked so thrilled it gave Mandy’s heart a lift.
‘Come in,’ she told them. A blast of cold air followed them inside and she closed the door quickly. She had set out chairs in a circle. She wanted to talk to all of them before they saw Melon. Hopefully, they would take in more if they weren’t distracted by their new dog bouncing around. As she went through various aspects of Melon’s behaviour, and how to continue the training she had been doing, the family listened closely. Sam in particular had several questions that showed she was very interested.
Mandy knew there was nothing more she could do to make this rehoming a success. Melon had well and truly landed on his paws. She stood up to fetch him from the kennels, asking the Dillons to stay in reception. When she entered the dog room, the little Westie was standing on his hind legs with his paws on the bars. His stubby tail thrashed from side to side and he made a little sound of excitement as if he understood exactly what was going on.
‘It’s a big day for you, Melon!’ Mandy wondered if he had recognised the Dillons’ voices. She opened the door to his cage and clipped his harness on. Forgetting his training, he bounded ahead, pulling on his lead, and for once, Mandy didn’t have the heart to make him stop and wait.
To her dismay, she felt tears prick her eyes as she watched the joyous reunion. She was supposed to be a professional, she told herself. The Dillons didn’t notice. All of them were crouching on the floor, stroking Melon, ruffling his ears, telling him that he was a good boy and that he was coming to live with them forever. Melon gambolled between them like a spring lamb in sunshine. His button eyes were bright. Just once, he came back to Mandy and pressed his damp nose against her leg as if to say thank you, before returning to give Sam an extra lick.
‘I suppose we’d better let you get on,’ Mr Dillon announced, standing up.
‘It’ll be brilliant to get him home,’ Buddy said. ‘Won’t it, Mum?’
He looked at Annie Dillon, who smiled down at him. ‘It will,’ she said. She turned to Mandy. ‘Thank you so much for everything,’ she said. ‘We will look after him.’
‘I know you will.’ Mandy swallowed the lump in her throat. Following them out to the car, she saw a sticker on the rear window: A dog is for life, not just for Christmas. The Dogs Trust slogan was still relevant, even though it was almost forty years old. Mandy already knew a few pets would be abandoned when the first holiday after Christmas came round. But right now, her thoughts were with Melon. He leaped into the Dillons’ car with delight and was strapped in between Buddy and Sam on the back seat. As Mandy waved them off, she could see the fluffy ears on the little white head were pricked as he gazed through the windscreen, ready to begin his new adventure.
‘Go well, Melon,’ she whispered.
Walking back inside to clear out his kennel, she saw Albert and the other dogs gazing hopefully at her. ‘Don’t worry,’ she assured them. ‘I’ll find homes for the rest of you too.’ Albert wagged his tail and lay back down with a sigh.
Back in the clinic, Emily was dealing with a cat which had turned up without an appointment. It had a chicken bone stuck across the roof of its mouth. It only took Emily a few moments to grasp the bone with some forceps and pull it away. Mandy was so pleased to have her mum back in Animal Ark. The few days she had been away hadn’t been overly busy, thank goodness, but the clinic hadn’t been the same without Mum’s calm presence.
‘Are you going to do something nice this afternoon?’ Helen asked Mandy, closing the door behind the cat’s relieved owner.
Despite Mandy’s insistence that she didn’t need a half day, Emily had been firm. ‘Don’t forget Dad and I are going away for a few days,’ she had told Mandy. And although Mandy had suggested that Emily should still be taking it easy, Mum had not backed down.
‘We could do something together,’ Helen offered. ‘It’s Rachel’s afternoon on reception.’
Looking out of the window, Mandy noticed clouds starting to pile up over Norland Fell. ‘I think I might go up to Lamb’s Wood Cottage. I was hoping to have it partly habitable by Christmas.’
Helen’s eyes widened. ‘Do you really think you might try to move in? You know there’s snow on the way? And that cottage hasn’t been lived in for months, right?’
‘I’ve abandoned the idea of moving in,’ Mandy admitted. ‘I thought about taking Mum and Dad up there for a mince pie, but they’re going away. It’s going to be just me and Sky on Christmas day. I thought we might try to have some lunch there. Just something simple.’
Helen put her head on one side, studying Mandy’s face. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ she said.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘In that case, I shall come and help you.’
Mandy tried not to laugh. Helen was wearing her determined face. If anyone could get the cottage whipped into shape, it was her. ‘Are you absolutely sure? It’ll be messy.’
Helen pursed her lips. ‘Look around you,’ she said. ‘Do you think I’d let a little bit of mess get in my way?’
‘Good point,’ Mandy said. Almost every day, animals came into the waiting room. Some were bleeding, some had diarrhoea. Many of the dogs cocked their legs on the reception desk. Yet Helen made sure the place was always spotless. ‘In that case, I gratefully accept your offer. And in return, I shall take you out for a drink.’ It was about time she went back to the Fox and Goose, Mandy thought, even if it brought back memories of her last visit. If she was in a mood for facing demons, she might as well put that one to rest. If Jimmy was in there with Molly, then so be it.
The last time Mandy and Helen had visited Lamb’s Wood Cottage, dusk had turned the house rather beautiful in the half-light. This time, in the cold light of a December afternoon, the cottage looked very grim indeed. Although the roof had been mended, Mandy had forgotten just how blistered and awful the paint was on the front door and how green the once-white weatherboarding had become. Dead weeds in the guttering poked through the ribbon of snow. For a moment, Mandy had a sense that nature was taking over, that if she sat down for too long, weeds would cover her too. She shook herself. The cottage was neglected, that was all. It just needed a bit of attention.
The key to the front door was still difficult to turn. She would bring some WD40 next time, Mandy decided.
As they entered the hallway, the house felt damp. There were little piles of white dust on the flagstones, showing where the ceiling plaster was crumbling. A worrying patch of black mould had appeared at the foot of the stairs, and one of the window frames had started to disintegrate into splinters. Mandy tried not to show her dismay. Given the state of the place, there was no way she would be moving in properly for a while. But having lunch here on the big day felt like a demonstration of intent. The cottage had once been a home. For now it was a shell, but with a new bathroom, refurbished kitchen and lots of stripping and redecorating, it could be lovely again.
‘Where should we start?’ Helen stood in the hallway gazing around. To their left was the sitting room, to their right the kitchen. ‘It’s a huge job.’
Mandy went back through into the kitchen. ‘There’s no way we can do it all,’ she said. ‘But I’d love one room to be clean enough so I can eat there, even if I can’t cook. It’ll have to be the kitchen or the sitting room. That way I can light a fire.’ She would have to look into central heating to combat the damp. It could be done at the same time as the decoration. After Christmas, she would formulate a proper plan.
Together, they inspected both rooms. While the kitchen was filthy, the room on the other side of the hallway had rain damage from the previously missing roof tiles. Though it was now more-or-less dry, the room had a musty smell. There was also a nasty-looking carpet on the floor. Even though Mandy, like most vets, had a strong stomach, she tried not to think about what might be growing underneath. But the kitchen tiles, once cleaned, would be serviceable.
‘I think we should start with the kitchen,’ Mandy said after they had been into both rooms twice.
‘I think you’re right,’ Helen agreed.
Two hours later, with the light fading, Mandy rubbed her aching back and surveyed the newly-cleaned kitchen. The floor had been swept twice, stirring up all kinds of ancient grime. It needed a good scrub with hot water, but that would have to come later when the boiler was working. At least Helen had found the stopcock and switched on the supply of cold water, which seemed to be working. Mandy planned to switch it off and drain the system before they finished for the night. The last thing she needed was burst pipes if there was a hard frost.
They had filled several black plastic bags with the dregs of Robbie Grimshaw’s grocery supplies. Mandy felt sad as they emptied out the cupboards. His existence must have been pretty miserable towards the end. She wondered why his nephew hadn’t done more to help him; from the looks of it, Robbie had lived off tinned pilchards and the occasional potato. Couldn’t his relative have done a proper food shop for him? Mandy decided to visit Robbie again in the New Year, she thought. She would take Sky next time. Even if he couldn’t remember his dog, he had always loved animals. He would be happy to see her. And at least his nephew seemed to be around now. Perhaps he had just moved to the area, Mandy thought charitably. Hopefully the young man would visit his uncle over Christmas.
Most of the cupboards were now empty. There was only one left and then the wood stove. Mandy would have to clean that out before she could light a fire. Even after hours of hard work, Helen still seemed to be full of energy. She was standing in the centre of the floor, sporting a thick pair of rubber gloves and a hairstyle that would not look out of place on a scarecrow. ‘It’s not too bad now,’ she declared. Her voice held its usual certainty. ‘Just the one cupboard to go.’
‘Would you mind getting it?’ Mandy asked. ‘I want to have a look at the stove.’
‘Of course.’ Helen crossed to the corner cupboard and opened the door wide. To Mandy’s surprise a pile of beer cans fell out, tumbling onto the tiles. A single can rolled across the floor landing at Mandy’s feet and she lifted it up. Unlike everything else in the kitchen, the can looked brand new and only recently emptied. Though she knew aluminium didn’t rust, Mandy could smell ale. Surely after all these months, any dregs would have dried out. Upending it over the sink, a few drops of beer made their way over the lip of the can.
‘That’s strange.’
She looked at Helen, who shrugged. ‘Maybe they haven’t dried out because the cupboard is damp?’ the nurse suggested. She didn’t look convinced. She started pulling out the remaining cans and shoving them into the rubbish bag.
Mandy crouched down and opened the door to the stove. There was a bunch of crumpled plastic inside. She drew it out. It was a bag from the local bakery. Inside it, she found a screwed up ball of greaseproof paper and some brown bags. There was no way these were old. There were crumbs as if from a bread roll and a slice of tomato that had obviously been removed from a sandwich. Holding the bag in her fingertips, she stood up.
‘Someone’s been here,’ she said to Helen. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
The nurse came over and peered into the carrier. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I expect a tramp must have sheltered here overnight. It has been very cold.’ She frowned. ‘I wonder how they got in.’
Despite Helen’s calm words, Mandy felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine. ‘I’ll go and look,’ she said. Her breathing quickened as she moved through to the back of the house.
There was a small bathroom to the left, opposite the staircase. To her horror, the window had been shattered and most of the glass removed. Some of last night’s snow had made it inside. Nobody had been in or out since then, at least. There were no new footprints. To Mandy’s disgust, someone had also used the toilet. Without water, there had been no way to flush it. Thanking Helen silently for turning on the water today, Mandy tugged on the ancient chain. Yellowish water swirled around the bowl, accompanied by a startling clatter from the cistern above her head. Mandy retreated before the ancient contraption fell off the wall, and decided to check the rest of the house for signs of her uninvited visitor.
Mounting the stairs, she could feel a surge of anger rising. She knew that people were homeless for all kinds of reasons. They needed somewhere to shelter. But there was a centre in Walton. Why would someone traipse all the way out here, to a draughty cottage? She dreaded to think what would have happened if they had tried to light a fire.
She popped her head into the small bedroom to the left at the top of the stairs. It was as empty as it had been on her last visit. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. As she crossed the landing to the master bedroom, she tried to get her thoughts under control. Whoever it was didn’t seem to have done too much damage. She would board up the window downstairs and get a glazier to come out. Perhaps tomorrow, if she was lucky.
But in the main bedroom, Mandy stopped dead and stared in horror at the message scrawled in black paint.
‘GET OUT BITCH.’
Despite the dimness of the light, the huge letters on the wall were as stark and horrifying as fresh blood. In her shock, Mandy let out a scream.
A moment later, Helen cantered up the stairs. ‘Are you okay?’ she called.
Mandy was shaking from head to foot. She couldn’t answer.
Helen stopped. Her eyes were fixed on the wall. ‘I’m calling the police,’ she said.
Mandy watched as the nurse dialled 101. There was a roaring noise in her ears that made it impossible to hear what Helen was saying.
‘I spoke to Sergeant Jones,’ Helen told Mandy when the call had ended. She touched Mandy’s arm, her hand warm and comforting. ‘He’s coming over to take a look. Are you okay?’
Mandy shook her head. Who had been in her house?
‘Shall we go and wait in the car?’ Helen steered Mandy gently out of the room and down the stairs. Together they went outside and climbed into Mandy’s RAV4. Mandy put the engine on and locked the doors. Helen turned up the heater. She found a can of juice in the glove compartment and they shared it. Mandy was relieved when a set of headlights appeared, bouncing over the humps of the rough track.
The liveried police car came to a standstill beside them and Sergeant Dan Jones climbed out, broad-shouldered and reassuring in his uniform. Brandishing a powerful torch, he came and stood beside the Toyota as Mandy and Helen got out. They made their way back inside the house. It was dark now, and the graffiti looked even more eerie in the beam of yellow torchlight.
‘As I told you, we found some rubbish downstairs that suggested a tramp had stayed here for a while,’ Helen said. ‘But this doesn’t look like something a tramp would do.’ She gestured towards the wall. ‘This feels … personal.’
Mandy closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry.
Sergeant Jones nodded. The whites of his eyes were very bright in the dusk. ‘I’ve read PC Armstrong’s notes on your recent problems, Mandy,’ he said. ‘I think we have to assume there’s a connection between this and the attacks on Hope Meadows.’ He looked sympathetically at her. ‘I’ll take away some of the cans. There might be fingerprints.’
Mandy felt sick. It was so cold. Chances were, anyone spending time here would be wearing gloves. Even if they hadn’t, to have fingerprints on file, the person would have to have a criminal record. What kind of enemy had the rescue centre made?
Somehow this was worse than the meddling that had been done before. ‘Bitch’ lifted everything to a whole new level. If Lamb’s Wood Cottage had come under attack, then it wasn’t just Hope Meadows that was threatened. It was Mandy herself.