Read Online Springtime at Cherry Tree Cottage by Cathy Woodman - Free Book Online

jeans. ‘Give me a minute.’ She walks away until she’s out of earshot. I stroke the goat until she comes back and hands the phone to me.
    â€˜Hi Flick,’ Mel says.
    â€˜I’m sorry about this—’
    â€˜Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m still waiting to go into theatre,’ he cuts in. ‘Gina is one of my specials.’
    â€˜She says you have an arrangement.’
    â€˜That’s right,’ he says smoothly. ‘She’s set up a bank transfer so it’s fine. All under control. How is Rambo?’
    â€˜Okay, thanks.’ My brain is racing. If they had set up a bank transfer, why didn’t Gina just say so? Equally, why didn’t Mel? ‘Good luck,’ I add.
    â€˜I’ll see you in a few days.’
    â€˜Cheers,’ I say, handing back the phone.
    â€˜Mel,’ Gina says. ‘Mel? Oh, he’s gone.’ She looks at me. ‘Happy now?’
    I nod. Happy, yes, but not satisfied that I really understand what’s going on.
    I say goodbye and repeat the game with the old goat at the gate while Gina looks on. Once outside, I reset the satnav for my next destination, where I shoe two ponies at a private house. On my way back towards Talyton St George, there’s a call on the hands-free.
    â€˜Hi,’ I say.
    â€˜Hello?’ says a man’s voice. ‘Can I speak to Mel?’
    â€˜I’m afraid he’s had to take some time off.’
    â€˜He didn’t mention it last time I saw him.’
    â€˜He was supposed to have notified all his clients.’
    â€˜Oh well, I don’t think admin is one of Mel’s strengths,’ the man says with humour. ‘Do you happen to know who’s covering his round?’
    â€˜Yes, I am.’
    â€˜You?’ It’s his turn to apologise. ‘I thought you were one of Mel’s friends answering his phone. I’m Jack, Animal Welfare Officer for this area. I’ve picked up a pony abandoned in a field over at Bottom End and I’m taking him to the Sanctuary. I wondered if you could drop by ASAP to look at his feet. His hooves are so overgrown the poor thing can hardly walk.’
    â€˜I can be there within the hour.’
    I’m going to drop into town to send my mobile away for repair, and pick up some cash from the hole in the wall to pay for the hay for tonight and, in spite of my straitened circumstances, treat myself to a cream tea at the Copper Kettle, the teashop in Talyton St George first. It’s a bit early in the day for scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam, but working outdoors gives me an appetite.
    â€˜That’s great,’ Jack says. ‘See you later.’
    The call cuts out and I realise I’ve forgotten to ask him for the address.
    When I’m in town, I find the postcode in the back of the diary and head to the Sanctuary. I follow a narrow lane, which peters out into a long gravelled track where the hedgerows press in on either side. At the end, there’s a gate. I open it and enter, parking in front of a bungalow that’s surrounded by tubs of tulips in bud.
    I slide out of the driver’s side of the truck, but before I can follow the sign that reads ‘Visitors this way’, a woman emerges from the bungalow. She’s carrying a baby on her hip and I’m guessing from the blue dungarees and khaki sunhat that he’s a boy. I’m not sure how old he is – a year, eighteen months, maybe. I’m no good at babies.
    â€˜Hi, you must be Flick. I’m Tessa, Jack’s wife. I’m the manager here.’ The woman tucks a stray lock of wavy, almost black hair behind her ear. The baby turns away from me and rests his head against her breast. ‘Oliver, don’t be shy.’ She smiles warmly. ‘He’ll be all right in a few minutes.’ He starts to cry. She puts her hand in the pocket of her overalls and pulls out a soother, pops it into her mouth and then the