Chapter Seven
Mandy took a deep breath and bent down to unclip the lead from Flame’s collar. Even though the height of the gate had been raised, she still felt anxious every time she let Flame run loose. Mandy swallowed the urge to call to the golden lurcher as she zoomed around the paddock. It was important for all the rescue dogs to be able to run off lead; human legs couldn’t give them enough exercise on their own. Mandy dug her hands in her pockets and watched Flame pick up a scent. With her nose fixed to the ground, the long-legged animal made a dash towards the hedge that separated the paddock from the road.
Mandy’s breath caught. Where there had been solid bushes before, now there seemed to be a flat patch of shadow a third of the way up the hedge. Could it be a gap? She sprinted over just as Flame launched herself at the hole, her furry body wriggling with excitement. Mandy lunged forwards as if she was tackling a rugby player and felt her fingers close around Flame’s collar. Her knees thudded to the ground and she stayed there for a moment, panting. When she had caught her breath, she began to disentangle Flame from the branches. The lurcher backed out, snuffling and shaking scraps of leaf from her ears. She was still straining to follow the scent so Mandy kept a firm grip on the collar as she clipped the lead back on. She peered at the gap in the hedge. She was sure it hadn’t been there yesterday. Once Flame was indoors, she would have to come back and look properly.
Flame looked crestfallen when Mandy shut her back into her kennel. The lurcher circled on her bed a couple of times and then flopped down with a sigh, as if she felt life was very unfair. ‘Better to be shut in here than roaming the streets of Welford,’ Mandy told her, slipping a treat through the bars. She headed outside, crossed the paddock, and crouched down to investigate the hole. It was hardly bigger than a flowerpot, but Mandy could see straight through to the lane on the other side. In a way, it was lucky it had been Flame trying to escape. One of the smaller dogs would have been through and away.
Mandy frowned. The gap was very strange. If it had been made by an animal trying to burrow through the hedge, she would have expected a hole at ground level and the earth at the base to be scraped. This was higher up, above the level that a rabbit or even a badger would reach. Some of the branches seemed to have been bent back deliberately, threaded in among the other twigs to leave a clear break. Had someone actually tried to make a hole in Mandy’s hedge?
She gave herself a mental shake. Was she just being paranoid after her conversation with PC Armstrong? Even if some of her neighbours didn’t like the noise of barking, was that enough to make them want to help the dogs escape? The thought that someone would be willing to risk the life of any of her animals made Mandy feel sick. Working with her fingers, she bent the wood back into place and did her best to cover the hole. Until the branches grew back, she would need to cover the gap. For the moment, she pulled a pallet into place. Later she would find something more permanent. As she shoved the pallet into position, the phone in her pocket began to ring.
‘Hi, Mandy. Seb Conway here.’
‘Seb!’ Despite the distractions of the morning, it was always good to hear Seb’s voice. ‘What can I do for you?’
She could hear a smile in the animal welfare officer’s voice as he replied. ‘Can you meet me in Walton? I’ve got a bit of a challenge for you …’
Half an hour later, Mandy drove into one of the older roads on the far side of Walton. In spite of her worry about the hole in her hedge, she was interested to see what Seb had in store for her. He had received a report about two donkeys being kept in a back garden, and Mandy couldn’t help hoping that the information was wrong. The houses here were detached and the gardens were large, but donkeys needed at least half an acre of land each to provide sufficient grazing. The area seemed so pristine that she couldn’t imagine anything so homely as a donkey fitting in. Had Seb’s witness been mistaken?
She was almost at the address Seb had given her. Turning the final corner, she spotted Seb’s blue and white council van standing outside a sizeable house with a tidy garden. A small tree stood in the centre of a clipped front lawn. As she pulled up, the door of Seb’s van opened and the welfare officer, looking smart in his black waterproof jacket, climbed out and locked the door behind him.
‘Morning!’ he called as Mandy opened her car door and hopped out.
‘Hi, Seb.’ Although she had done a good number of welfare visits before, Mandy still felt a surge of adrenaline. Most owners resented or feared the appearance of the welfare officer, and situations could quickly become tense, aside from any problems with the animal. Side by side, Mandy and Seb walked up the driveway to knock on the glossy white door.
The bell chimed inside and there were sounds of frenetic claws and agitated barking. A woman in a red sweater and fitted black trousers opened the door. As well as the toddler on her hip, there were two slightly older children dancing about behind her. The barking came from a brindle Staffie, half-hiding behind the woman’s legs.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked. Mandy felt a burst of sympathy for the woman. She looked tired out and now, seeing Seb in his black jacket, there was alarm on her face too. ‘Is something wrong?’
Seb smiled. ‘Good morning. Mrs Powell? My name is Sebastian Conway, and I’m from the local council. We’ve had a report that there are two donkeys being kept in your back garden,’ he said. ‘Is it possible for us to have a look, please?’
The woman frowned as she opened the door wide. ‘You’re welcome to look at them,’ she said. From her expression, Mandy couldn’t help wondering whether the woman had enough to do without two donkeys added into the mix. As they walked through the house, Mandy glanced around. There were toys on the floor, but the carpet looked new and well maintained. A real Christmas tree stood in one corner of the living room, surrounded by boxes of ornaments and tinsel. The Staffie bounced beside Mrs Powell, barking, but it looked fit and in good condition.
To Mandy’s surprise, one of the children rushed up and took her hand. She had a large green bow in her hair and a sweet face. ‘Are you here to see Robin and Holly?’
Mandy looked down, feeling like a giant. ‘Are they your donkeys?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ the child replied. ‘I’m Mia.’
‘Well then, yes, Mia,’ Mandy said. ‘We’ve come to check how they are.’
Mia’s older brother reached up for Mandy’s other hand. He had dark hair and dark eyes with a slightly wary expression. ‘What’s your name?’ Mandy asked, half delighted, half taken aback by the friendly children.
‘I’m Stephen.’ He stared up at her. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’ll show you.’ One on either side, they tugged Mandy towards the back door. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Seb following behind. He looked as if he was trying not to laugh.
Mrs Powell looked even more strained once the back door was open. No wonder, Mandy thought as she looked around. Where there should have been neat flowerbeds, there were millions of tiny hoof-prints. The lawn had been churned up, sticky November mud showing through the shorn grass. Worse, there was a privet hedge along the back fence. Although there was no sign that it had been eaten, it was completely unsuitable to enclose animals. Fortunately the berries were past, but the plant itself was poisonous to donkeys. The heather plants in the rockery hadn’t been so lucky. There was no sign of living creatures, but Mandy noticed a small garden shed in one corner. Were the donkeys in there, she wondered?
Mrs Powell noticed the direction of Mandy’s gaze. ‘The kids love them,’ she said, her voice hollow with resignation, ‘but I had no idea how much trouble they’d cause.’
In one respect, it was a relief that she was willing to admit that there were donkeys in the back garden; Mandy never ceased to be astonished by what people tried to hide from Seb. They had found a bull mastiff crammed into a bathroom cupboard before now, with the owner swearing blind he’d never had a dog in the house. But it was so frustrating to look at the mess these donkeys had made of the tidy suburban garden without the householders realising they needed somewhere completely different to live.
Mandy bit back the flood of words that tried to burst out. Why didn’t people do some research before rushing out to buy pets? Or even just engage their brains? ‘The garden’s not suitable for donkeys, I’m afraid,’ she said, once she had full control of her tongue.
Mrs Powell shook her head. ‘They’re miniature donkeys,’ she said. ‘The breeder told us they’d only grow to the size of a large dog. He told us it would be fine.’
Mandy narrowed her eyes. Even miniature donkeys would need more space than this.
Mia let go of Mandy’s hand. ‘They’re in here,’ she announced, stepping up to the shed with a proud smile. Pushing down the latch, she stepped back and let the door swing open.
Two grey fluffy shapes rushed out of the shed, kicking their heels and tossing their heads. Despite the sweetness of their furry faces and dark eyes, Mandy felt a jolt of alarm. Although the donkeys were not much bigger than a Labrador, they looked slim, their muscles not yet fully formed. Their legs seemed overly long. ‘How old are they exactly?’ she asked.
‘The breeder said they were two years old,’ Mrs Powell said.
Mandy studied the donkeys. They were rushing in circles, skidding to a halt leaving hoof marks in the lawn, then trotting off again, delighted to be outside. Mandy hadn’t come across many miniature donkeys, but her instinct was telling her this pair didn’t look anything like two years old. ‘I’ll need to check their teeth,’ she said. She would keep her doubts to herself until she was sure.
‘Are you able to catch them for us?’ Seb sounded dubious as he addressed Mrs Powell.
To Mandy’s surprise, Mrs Powell was surprisingly efficient. She walked inside the shed and shook some food into a metal bucket. At the sound of the pellets, the two skittish animals made a bolt past them and rushed inside. Mandy and Seb slid in as well, pulling the door shut behind them. Though the shed was clean, it was very small for the donkeys to live in.
Two little headcollars hung on the wall, one pink, one blue. In the cramped space inside the shed, she and Seb managed to trap first one and then the other of the donkeys. It was obvious they didn’t like having the headcollars in place and were not used to being led. It wasn’t bright enough in the shed for her to examine them properly, so holding tightly to the ropes, they opened the door and manoeuvred the reluctant animals back outside. As far as Mandy could see, they were both in good health. Their fur was soft, especially behind their outrageously long ears. Holly in particular seemed to love being stroked. Mandy was not surprised when she lifted Robin’s tail to discover that the little animal was uncastrated. If they were as young as she thought, it was better for his health that he had not been neutered yet, but it was likely to make him harder to handle as he grew.
All that remained was to check their age. Mandy’s suspicions were confirmed when she finally managed to check Holly’s mouth and discovered that the little donkey still had milk teeth. The outermost incisor was not even through. A quick check in Robin’s mouth showed the same thing.
‘They’re not miniature donkeys,’ she announced, straightening up. ‘They are foals.’ And not really old enough to be weaned, she thought with a wave of anger at Mrs Powell’s ignorance and the deliberate deception on the part of the breeder. He or she was at least as much to blame for these baby donkeys ending up in such an inappropriate home.
‘I’m afraid it’s not suitable for livestock to be kept in such a small space,’ Seb told Mrs Powell, who was still holding the baby.
‘But they aren’t foals,’ Mrs Powell objected. ‘They’re miniature.’
‘They are not miniature,’ Mandy insisted. ‘They’re young. In eighteen months’ time, they’ll be fullgrown donkeys.’
‘Well, it isn’t our fault.’ Mrs Powell’s mouth was set in an obstinate line. ‘The breeder lied to us.’
Mandy looked at Seb, who let out a sigh before speaking. ‘It doesn’t really matter who’s at fault,’ he said. Mandy was impressed by his patience. ‘They need a proper field.’
‘And a shelter,’ Mandy put in. ‘The garden shed’s not big enough even now. Donkey’s coats aren’t waterproof. And they probably still need milk. Have they been wormed?’ She came to a halt. Mrs Powell was starting to look horrified.
‘We can’t afford anything fancy like that,’ she protested. Mandy found herself wondering how much they had paid for the donkeys. Very likely they hadn’t been cheap.
Behind them, a door slammed. Mandy turned to see a man in a black jacket and designer jeans striding across the churned lawn. He walked straight up to Seb, stopping so close his nose was almost touching the welfare officer’s face. ‘What’s this?’ he demanded, glaring round from Seb to Mandy, to the children and then back. Mandy noticed that the children had fallen silent and were staring at the man with worried eyes. ‘What’re you doing with my donkeys?’
Seb took a discreet step backwards, keeping his expression bland. ‘We heard that there were donkeys being kept in a back garden,’ he explained. ‘I’m Seb Conway. I’m the welfare officer. And this is Amanda Hope. She’s a veterinary surgeon.’ Mandy was impressed by how calm Seb seemed to be. ‘I appreciate that you bought these donkeys with the best intentions, but I’m afraid the garden isn’t a suitable place to keep them.’
Mr Powell seemed to swell inside his clothes and the back of his neck turned red. Mandy froze, wondering whether she should try to do anything, but she had no idea what.
‘They’re my donkeys and they’re fine!’ Mr Powell shouted.
Holly, the little jenny, backed away. Mandy let her go, though she kept hold of the rope. Robin, who was standing with Seb, also retreated to the end of his lead rope.
‘Think you can just walk in here and start ordering us round, do you?’ Mr Powell continued in a growl. ‘Pair of do-gooders. You country types are all the same.’ By now he was jabbing his finger at Seb.
Robin suddenly jerked his head backwards before skittering off to the side. Mandy only just jumped out of the way as he barrelled past, then tried to stamp on the rope as it slithered after him. She missed and only succeeded in splashing herself with mud. Robin rushed off across the lawn, leaving a trail of fresh divots.
Mandy clenched her hands, digging her fingernails into her palms. She reminded herself that the Powells hadn’t done any deliberate harm to the donkeys, and they had bought them in good faith that they would be tiny pets. But you can’t keep any kind of donkey in a garden! Mandy raged internally. She was again impressed by Seb, who merely moved away from Mr Powell, turned to her and said, ‘Give me a hand getting him caught, would you?’
Mandy handed Holly’s rope to Mrs Powell. ‘Hold that tightly,’ she told the alarmed-looking woman. ‘Don’t wrap it round your hand. You might get hurt.’
With the lead rope trailing behind Robin, it wasn’t too hard to catch the little jack. Both Mia and Stephen looked tearful now, as if they realised their donkeys were in trouble. Once Seb had hold of Robin, Mandy went back and took Holly’s rope from Mrs Powell.
Mr Powell shook his head. ‘I want you to leave now,’ he ordered, gesturing to the side gate. ‘I’ve had enough of your interfering.’ His eyes flashed when Mandy and Seb didn’t move at once. ‘Did you hear me?’ He seemed to be coming closer and closer to boiling point. Mandy stood motionless, clutching Holly’s rope, hardly daring to breathe.
‘You’re still here.’ Now Mr Powell was shouting directly in her face. From the corner of her eye, Mandy saw a head appear at the fence, then another. Great. They were attracting a local audience.
Seb had his phone out and was dialling a number.
Very slowly, holding her hands palm outwards, though still clinging to Holly’s rope, Mandy backed away from the angry man. She needed to talk to Seb about what they were going to do. The donkeys weren’t safe here, with too little space and that privet hedge, but Mandy didn’t want to provoke Mr Powell any more than they had already done.
There were now about five heads looking over the fence, staring at the tableau of donkey welfare. The situation seemed ludicrous. Mandy moved as close as she could to Seb. ‘Should we leave?’ she asked.
‘You’re probably right,’ Seb replied quietly. ‘We should put them back in the shed,’ he suggested. ‘Leave the headcollars on. Give Mr Powell time to calm down.’
But as Mandy started to lead Holly forward, the air was split by the noise of sirens from the street outside.