The subsequent thinking and dwelling over the past two weeks had led to the realisation that all her friends were moving on with their lives, whereas hers hadn’t changed in almost a decade. She was thirty and what did she have to show for it? She mightn’t have a job soon, she didn’t have a place of her own, and she didn’t have anyone special in her life. Even Maisie, Dulcie’s flighty younger sister, had settled down and was making a go of things.
Fed up with herself, Carla followed Dulcie as she went to fetch the goat. She’d read that llama walks were meant to lift the spirits and relieve stress and anxiety, so maybe walking a goat would be just as relaxing.
Somehow she doubted it.
I wonder whether goats are able to find their own way home, Carla mused as she gazed at the heather and bracken-coveredhillside. The farm was down there somewhere, but she couldn’t see it from here and she prayed she wasn’t lost. Hence the hope that goats had similar homing instincts to pigeons.
She had stopped for a breather, one of many because this hill was steep, but Cloud didn’t seem bothered that her nice comfy barn was out of sight. The animal was busy gorging itself on the surrounding foliage, as were her babies.
For the first ten minutes, Carla had been concerned that the goatlings would wander off (she really didn’t fancy having to explain to Dulcie that she’d lost two of her precious goats), but she needn’t have worried as they didn’t stray too far from their mum. And while Cloud had tip-tapped obediently behind Carla as she had led her along the narrow dirt path, the babies gambled and scampered amongst the heather.
They were incredibly cute and funny to watch. However, they soon realised from their mother’s contented chewing that there was a smorgasbord of munchable leaves all around, and they quickly settled down to nibble at them.
As she watched them eat, she wondered how much further she needed to go. Would this do as Cloud’s first proper walk? The goat had behaved herself, so did she need any more training?
Aside from the contented chewing noises, it was rather peaceful up here with just the wind and a bird call or two. The sun was warm and the springy heather looked quite inviting, so Carla decided to extend her breather into a proper rest and enjoy the solitude and the view.
It was a far cry from the noise of the open-plan office where she should have been this morning. The scenery was better, too.
Keeping a firm hold on the lead rope in case Cloud decided to make a break for it, Carla sank into the heather as her thoughts lingered on work, and she wondered what they were saying about her. She really should give Vicky a call to see how bad the gossip was and to reassure her friend that she was okay. She also wanted to find out whether Yale was back from leave yet.
Carla could feel her anger growing at the thought of that man going about his normal day while she was effectively in exile.
Did she miss work? Did she heck! Given a choice, she would rather be sitting on the side of a hill in the sun and watching goats eat grass, than be at work, but it was the principle of the thing. And also, the small problem of losing her job would mean no income.
Reflexively, she eased her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and checked to see whether there was anything from HR. There wasn’t, and she didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. She desperately wanted to get this over with, but feared what would happen when it was.
Movement caught her eye and she stiffened. Was that a rabbit? Carla held her breath, keeping as still as possible. No, it wasn’t a rabbit. It didn’t have the ears for it. It looked like a cat, and was bounding and bouncing over the grassy tumps. Unusual markings, she thought, as it came closer – a brown back and white chest. Then suddenly it was gone.
She exhaled slowly.
Having lingered enough, she got to her feet. It was time to go back. She reckoned she’d been out here long enough.
Realising he was whistling, Ashton pressed his lips together to trap in the sound. Lacey had hated whistling. She used to say it ‘did her head in,’ and that it was tuneless, which he vehemently denied. He didn’t for one minute believe his whistling was tuneless. In fact, as he was shoving letters and leaflets through the letterboxes on Hazel Road, he thought he had been giving a fairly decent rendition ofSittin on the Dock of the Bay.
Knocking on the door of number twelve and handing the young woman her parcel, it occurred to him that he no longer had any reason to suppress his whistling tendencies. He could whistle to his heart’s content, and no one would stop him.
Pursing his lips, he gave an experimental toot.
‘Someone’s lively this morning,’ the woman said.
She looked familiar, but so did most of Picklewick. Then it occurred to him where he’d seen her before. ‘You’re usually at the farm on Muddypuddle Lane, aren’t you?’
‘That’s right. It belongs to my sister, Dulcie.’
Ashton slapped a palm to his forehead. ‘Of course! Maisie, isn’t it? I thought I knew you from somewhere. You look like her, too.’
‘All us Fairfax kids look the same. Even my brother Jay, although he’s more masculine.’
‘I’m off up there in a bit,’ he said, patting the Royal Mail bag which was slung across his body. Not that he had anything forMuddypuddle Lane in there, as those letters were currently in the back of his van.
‘Do you want me to take them for you?’ Maisie asked.
‘Thanks for the offer, but I’d better not. It’s against the rules.’ He smiled. ‘You could be anyone, and I’ve also got post for the stables and the cottage. Besides, I quite like driving up there – great views and I sometimes get to see some wildlife.’
‘Yeah – Dulcie!’ Maisie giggled. ‘Don’t tell her I said that.’
‘I won’t.’ Ashton gave her a wave as he walked off.
