Nell reached up to pat some flyaway strands of hair back into place. Her first day in a new job and she was walking round with a giant ginger bird’s nest on her head.
And she’d had to work even for the horrible up-do she was currently sporting. Over an hour it had taken her to boil enough water in her four biggest pans, one on every gas ring of her hob, to have a hot bath – well, lukewarm bath by the time she’d got the tub half-full. She’d had to leave her voluminous mop to dry naturally then cram it full of hair grips and spray, just to hold it in place. Not the best look for a dashing young professional.
Oh, how she missed her GHDs…
Her first task in her new home really needed to be getting the old boiler replaced so she could have hot running water. Then the lecky, allowing her to once again embrace straight hair and a fully charged phone. And she needed to get the roof fixed, keep out the wind and rain – the two big tarps she’d chucked over the worst patch, weighted down with half-bricks, were OK as a temporary solution but they could only do so much. And the back door, of course. She couldn’t sleep easy knowing it was open to any rapist, murderer or sheep who might choose to pop in.
Her scooter was arriving this evening, she’d arranged to have it couriered over from her dad’s along with some of her other possessions. Once she had that, perhaps she could join a gym over in Halifax. She’d be able to grab a shower there, maybe sit in the sauna for a bit to warm up before heading back to her freezing moorland shack.
As worried as she was about the falling-down farmhouse she now called home and her ill-considered, possibly doomed decision to start a new life here in Leyholme, she couldn’t help feeling a little better as she strolled towards the village school. She could see it in the distance: a squat Victorian building in blackened sandstone, capped by a little belltower.
There was a fresh, fecund mix of scents after the recent autumn showers that seemed to go with the first day at a new school, somehow: old leaves, fresh-dropped conkers, wet soil, with just the faintest hint of woodsmoke from somewhere in the distance. Nell breathed in deep lungfuls, taking in her surroundings as she walked.
To her right was a post office, the sign outside proudly proclaiming that it was community-run and staffed by volunteers. An old mechanics’ institute seemed to function as a village hall – the place was currently decorated for some sort of Halloween event, festooned with orange and black bunting while a row of carved pumpkins lined the path leading to the front door. A little further up the road was a cheery-looking pub, The Highwayman’s Drop. Dick Turpin reference? She’d have to look up the history of the place sometime.
There were shops too – a corner shop, butcher’s, hardware store, bakery, even an old-style apothecary (although these days it just seemed to deal in all-natural soaps and bath salts), with an assortment of coloured glass bottles filling the windows. Rowan trees lined the pavements, shaking in the knife-edge October wind that swept down off the moor.
It was exactly the sort of place she’d always dreamed of making her home in – well, a bit colder and damper than her fantasy village maybe, but close enough. Shawn would’ve popped a vein if she’d told him this was where she wanted them to live.
She slowed down as she passed the warm, fragrant open door of the bakery, falling into step behind a gang of kids lined up in pairs ahead of her – what they called a walking bus. They were all in hi-vis jackets with Leyholme Primary School printed on the back, two adults at the front and another bringing up the rear.
‘OK, time to cross the road,’ one of the parents leading the bus said when they reached the zebra crossing. ‘What do we do first, you lot?’
‘Stop, look and listen,’ the kids chanted dutifully.
Nell drew level with the woman at the back, thinking she should probably introduce herself. A lot of the kids in the bus looked around Reception age.
‘Hiya,’ she said. ‘Are you one of the school mums?’
‘Oh God, don’t talk to me.’ The woman ran a hand over her brow. ‘I mean, sorry, do talk to me. Just don’t talk to me about school. It’s been one of those mornings, first day back after half-term and all that.’
It didn’t look like it had been one of those mornings. The woman was country chic in her jodhpurs and stylish wellies, her caramel-highlighted blonde hair curled and glossy, make-up pristine, huge Breakfast at Tiffany’s-esque sunglasses perched on her nose. Her harassed tone was distinctly at odds with her immaculate appearance. Nell realised she’d reached up to pat her stupid fluffy nest again and yanked her fingers away.
She shook the manicured hand the woman offered her. ‘Nell.’
‘Jolene. You sing, you die.’
Nell laughed. ‘For everyone’s benefit I’ll try to restrain myself.’
Jolene’s plump, glossed lips spread into a smile. ‘Nice to meet you anyway, Nell. You new to the area?’
‘New as they come. I only moved here on Friday.’
‘Is one of the breakfast club yours then?’ Jolene asked, nodding towards the kids clutching lunchboxes and schoolbags as they filed over the crossing.
‘Well, you might say some of them are, between nine and half three at least. I’m the new Reception teacher.’
Jolene examined her with more interest. ‘You’re Miss… no, don’t tell me. Miss Shackleton, right?’
‘That’s me.’
‘Well, rather you than me, hun.’ She watched the kids as they mounted the pavement again. ‘I mean, we adore them, obviously, but they’re little sods sometimes.’
Nell smiled. ‘Parents always say that, I’ve learnt not to believe a word of it. Which one belongs to you?’
Jolene pointed out a swaggering lad marching at the head of the walking bus, two or three girls jogging at his heels. ‘That’s my Morgan. Did you ever see a five-year-old who could flirt like that? Takes after his father.’
‘Does he?’
‘Mmm. Daddy’s long gone now though. The two things were not unconnected.’ She frowned, looking over her shoulder. ‘Hey, can you hear something?’
It all happened in a bit of a blur. There was a frenzied yapping, then a streak of reddish-brown fur shot past Nell, heading straight for the crowd of kids.
One of the little girls shrieked and broke formation. She ran past Nell and Jolene, out into the road – right into the path of a huge Range Rover just cresting the brow of the hill.
‘Red!’ the girl yelled. She fell on the frisking dog and hugged it round its neck. ‘Aww, you missed me.’
Nell didn’t stop to think. She dashed out into the road, and in an instant she’d grabbed the girl’s hand and the dog’s trailing lead and swept them back to the safety of the pavement.
‘Sweetheart, you mustn’t ever do that!’ she panted, dropping to her haunches to talk to the child. ‘It’s very, very dangerous to run into the road. Don’t you know a car could come and knock you down?’
The child blinked. ‘But I had to get Red. She’s not s’posed to run off.’
‘Is this Red?’ Nell asked, resting a hand on the still ecstatic spaniel.
The girl nodded. ‘She’s my dog,’ she announced, beaming around the other kids with obvious pride. ‘She wants to come to school too.’
The walking bus had stopped, the children watching the little tableau with interest. Jolene was standing with the other parents, and Nell had the horrible idea they might be treating this as some sort of test of her abilities.
‘She can’t come to school, my love,’ Nell told the child. ‘It’s a school for humans, not dogs – they have their own schools, you know. What’s your name?’
‘Can’t tell you,’ the little girl said, jabbing a thumb into her mouth.
‘Why not?’
‘’Cos you’re a stranger,’ she mumbled through a mouthful of thumb.
Nell smiled. ‘That’s OK. I’m your new teacher, I’m not a proper stranger.’
The girl looked up at Jolene, who nodded to confirm the truth of the statement.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, smiling encouragingly. ‘Go on, sweetie, tell her your name.’
‘Milly Madeleine,’ the child told Nell.
Nell looked at her for a second. ‘OK then, Milly Madeleine. Do you know where Red came from today so we can get her back there?’
That question answered itself as a petite woman in her early forties, her pixie-chopped auburn hair giving her a look of Julia Roberts playing Tinkerbell, came barrelling around the corner with arms and legs flailing.
‘Red! Red, you little – arghh! There you are!’
The woman came running over, panting heavily.
‘Oh God… so… sorry,’ she managed. ‘She… got away from me in the park. Sorry, sorry, sorry.’ She glanced at Nell, noticing her hand on Red’s collar. ‘Who are you, then?’
Nell blinked. ‘I’m the new Reception teacher. Who’re you?’
‘Stevie, Milly’s mum.’
‘Milly’s mum,’ she muttered. ‘Hey, do you know your dog ran into the road?’
‘And Milly followed,’ Jolene said. ‘It’s lucky Miss Shackleton here was on her toes. She’s a hero, Stevie. Pulled them out of the path of a speeding car.’
‘Oh, it wasn’t quite as dramatic as all that,’ Nell said.
‘Oh my God!’ Stevie dropped to her knees and pulled Milly into a hug. ‘Mill, you know not to do that! Stay with the bus, duckling. That’s what it’s for, to keep you safe.’
‘But Red was—’
‘Never mind what Red was doing. Red’s a naughty dog to run away from me. Now go on, get off to school – and for goodness’ sake, do as you’re told and stay safe.’
She stood up and nodded to Nell. ‘Well, looks like I owe you one, new Reception teacher. Thanks.’
‘Um, my pleasure.’
Stevie disappeared down the road, running to keep up as the tiny furry thunderbolt dragged her in the direction of the park.
‘Phew. Nothing like a bit of drama on your first day, eh?’ Nell said to Jolene as they got moving again.
‘Oh, wherever you find Stevie Madeleine, you’ll always find drama.’
‘How come?’
‘Who knows? That’s the thing, she never seems to be the cause of it. Stevie’s just one of those people, you know? Trouble follows her around.’ Jolene lowered her voice. ‘We’re rather proud of her at Leyholme. It’s not an enormously diverse school community, sad to say, but we do have Stevie and Milly. She’s our only gay parent.’
Nell frowned. Jolene talked about Stevie as if she was the school mascot or something; some sort of trophy. Not knowing quite how to respond, she was relieved when they reached the school gates and the conversation came to a halt.
‘Red Madeleine, you are a bad, bad, bad dog,’ Stevie scolded as they headed back into the park. ‘And you know I only say that because I love you.’
Red looked up at her with tongue lolling cheerfully. Unlike some of her kind, she didn’t seem to feel any shame at being told she was a bad dog. If anything, Stevie reckoned she took it as a compliment.
Stevie sighed and knelt to give her a stroke.
‘You and Milly could’ve been hurt today. And if anything happened to either of you, the last little unbroken part of my heart would crack into bits. Do you understand that, you moronic canine?’
Red lunged forward to give her face a big, wet lick.
‘Nope,’ Stevie said to no one in particular, wiping off the drool with a tissue. ‘Not a word.’
‘Oh wow, what a sweetheart! Is she yours?’
Stevie looked up to see who’d spoken. A beaming woman with dark, wavy hair stuffed into a ponytail, dressed in combat trousers and a fitted Firefly hoodie, had materialised by her side. At her feet were six dogs of varying sizes, shapes and breeds, their curious eyes fixed on Red.
‘Probably truer to say I’m hers,’ Stevie said, standing up. ‘For all the notice she takes of a word I say, the little hellhound.’ She glanced down at the dogs around the woman’s feet. ‘I feel a bit inadequate now I’ve met you, with my paltry single dog.’
‘Oh, they’re not all mine. I’m a professional.’
‘Professional what, dog-wrangler?’
The woman laughed. ‘Basically. I walk them, if you can call that a career. All girls, so we don’t have any slip-ups with the unsnipped ones.’ She nodded to a little border terrier who’d deigned to turn around and present her backside to Red for inspection. ‘This is the only one that actually comes home with me. My Life.’
‘Yeah, it can feel a bit like your world revolves around them sometimes, can’t it?’
‘No, I mean, that’s her name. Life.’ The woman grinned, her mouth dimpling at the corners. ‘It’s a joke. Geddit?’
Stevie hesitated, then groaned. ‘Life’s a bitch. God, that’s terrible.’
‘Isn’t it? I’ve got a million of them.’ She nodded amiably. ‘I’m Deb, by the way.’
‘Stevie. And this is Red. She’s in the doghouse this morning so don’t be too nice to her.’
‘She’s a beaut,’ Deb said, crouching down to tickle Red’s ears. ‘Cocker?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You’d think I’d get bored of them, wouldn’t you, with half a dozen a day to see to. And yeah, I pick them all up and I’m like “ugh, dogs”. But then I see a new one and I’m like “ooh, dog!” You know?’
Deb stood up again, beaming happily. Stevie smiled back. She couldn’t help it: Deb’s carefree grin was infectious.
She struck Stevie as one of those people who could be sheltering in a bunker, waiting for the apocalypse, and still manage to stay upbeat. On full beam, the woman could dry out a wet weekend in Morecambe.
‘Hey,’ Stevie said. ‘Are you booked up right now, dog-wise? I’ll actually be in the market for a sitter myself soon. I’ve got a kid who does it for pocket money, but she’s off on a gap year or something after Christmas so I’ll be stuck come the January term.’
‘You mean it?’ Deb said. Stevie wished her eyes sparkled like that when she thought about work.
‘Of course. You and Red seem like you’re good pals already.’
‘Six is my limit, but I do have a vacancy coming up. Young Sadie here’s moving away. I’d love to take Red, if you’re sure you trust some random stranger you just met in the park to take care of her for you.’
Stevie breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been really quite worried about finding a new dog-walker. Red had a reputation around the village for being flighty and over-excitable, with this morning’s running-off episode just one in a long line, and Stevie couldn’t imagine even Leyholme’s most hard-up residents queueing to take her on. She wasn’t entirely convinced her current dog-walker was really going off on her travels either. There was a good chance the girl had just decided to go into hiding.
‘In the interests of full disclosure, I should warn you she can be a bit of a handful,’ Stevie told Deb. ‘Full of energy, never does as she’s told, always off chasing after something…’
‘I had an ex like that once,’ Deb said, laughing. ‘Don’t worry, Stevie, we’ll get along fine. Hang on.’ She reached into the deep pocket of her combats, pulling out a mess of coppers, dog treats, poo bags and other clutter. She fished a business card from the debris. ‘Here. Drop me an email and we’ll get it set up.’