‘This is ridiculous.’ Releasing a frustrated squeal, I smacked the palm of my hand against the steering wheel of James’s car several times until it was red and sore.
Taking a deep breath, I executed yet another three-point turn. Although, in the narrow country lane, it was more like a seven-point turn. Maybe nine.
‘You have passed your destination. Please turn round at the next available exit.’
‘And you can shut up too.’ I stabbed at the sat nav button. ‘You have lied to me three times, you useless piece of…’ I took another deep breath. ‘None of those destinations were anything resembling a country manor, were they?’
So far, I’d been directed to a riding stables, a dead-end lane and now my final disaster – a tumbledown barn in the middle of nowhere. Seriously, nowhere. There were no houses, no vehicles, no animals; just green fields and hedges as far as the eye could see.
I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and grimaced. I was already an hour and a quarter late. I’d missed the drinks reception and the photos which was hardly ideal considering I was the only bridesmaid. The meal would have started fifteen minutes ago and, if I didn’t find my way back to civilisation soon, I was going to miss all the food and the speeches too. Even though it was hardly my fault, Chloe was going to be so mad with me for disrupting her plans for a perfect wedding day.
Stopping the car, I fished my mobile phone out of the door pocket. Still no signal. What on earth had possessed me to agree to Chloe’s request? Dad was right; I was too kind to her and it was always my downfall. They’d mistakenly left a plant – one of their thank-you gifts for those who’d helped make the day special – at Auntie Louise and Uncle Simon’s. So, of course, I’d agreed to drive James’s car back to Whitsborough Bay to get it for them, figuring I’d only be half an hour at most behind everyone else; no problem. Apologising for the inconvenience and calling me a ‘life-saver’, James programmed his sat nav with the postcode for Aversford Manor, their reception venue, and showed me how to activate the route when I left Whitsborough Bay. It all seemed pretty simple. Then he hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, and the touch of his lips against mine, his warm breath against my ear and the woody aroma of his body spray sent me back to the island of unrequited love all over again. I’d tried so hard in the run-up to the wedding to convince myself that I wasn’t still in love with him but my heart betrayed my head every time. Could life be any more complicated?
I glowered at the plant, secured between towels in the passenger side footwell. ‘Whoever your new owner is, I hope they’re flipping well grateful.’
Leaning back in my seat, I exhaled loudly, then put the car back into gear and set off down the lane again. I paused at the junction, trying to decide which way to go next. Why didn’t I know this area at all? I’d lived in Whitsborough Bay all my life and the Yorkshire Wolds started less than ten miles to the south west of the town, yet it was an area I’d never explored. Gramps had lived there but I’d never ventured beyond the village next to his. When he lived somewhere so beautiful and peaceful, there’d never been any need to explore. I was going to have to get used to it, though. Next month, I’d be starting a new job in the area and would move here as soon as I’d settled in.
Leaving my friends on the Whitsborough Bay district nursing team had never been part of my plan, but nothing over the past few years had turned out as I’d hoped so I shouldn’t have been surprised when Chloe excitedly announced that she and James had changed their mind about starting married life in York. By the end of last year, he’d sold his house, they’d bought and moved into a new-build on a small development close to her parents and mine, and James began commuting to work by train.
I could psych myself up and put a brave face on for the planned family events but it was too much having James living only a ten-minute walk away. I felt constantly on edge, worried about bumping into him at any minute and finding myself back at square one. If I was going to have any chance of getting over James, I needed distance and the only way to get that was to leave Whitsborough Bay.
Relocating to the Wolds appealed – far enough away to warrant a move but close enough to home to regularly see my family. Hannah was a district nurse there and joining her team would have been ideal but there were no vacancies.
For several months, I blew hot and cold about returning to nursing in a surgery but ultimately couldn’t bring myself to apply for any of the vacancies. I was beginning to wonder whether I needed to consider a complete career change when I spotted an advert for a Health and Social Care Tutor at Reddfield TEC. I’d never seriously considered teaching before but I was always the one who got new starters up to speed and I loved it – so I filled in an application form, convinced they wouldn’t offer the job to someone with no teaching experience or teaching qualifications. But they did. I was joining the college in early September at the start of the new academic year. It was going to be very different but I was excited about the fresh start and if it wasn’t for me, there was nothing to stop me returning to district nursing after a year or two. At least I’d have put the physical distance between James and me that I desperately needed.
Twenty minutes later, I fought back screams of frustration as the sat nav directed me to a farm and the robotic voice declared once more that I’d reached my destination.
‘No! I haven’t. Does this look like Aversford Manor to you?’ I reached for my mobile again. Still no signal. Glancing up the farm track, I couldn’t see any buildings. A tatty wooden sign hung from a rusty pole with the name ‘HEDGEHOG HOLLOW’ written on it in peeling black paint.
‘Please let there be someone home who can tell me where the hell I am. Or that they have a landline so I can call Dad. Or both.’
I turned onto the gravel track which inclined towards the horizon. Overgrown green fields flanked the track either side of a rickety wooden fence which had certainly seen better days. A myriad of potholes full of muddy rainwater from the previous day’s downpour jostled me from side to side, and made me gasp. James was not going to be impressed at the state of his car but needs must.
After passing a small copse on both sides of the road, the track bent sharply to the left, revealing a large three-storey stone farmhouse smothered in ivy. Surrounding the house were several stone barns and outbuildings in various states of disrepair including a wooden one that looked as though a sneeze in its direction would bring the timbers crashing down.
I stopped in the farmyard in front of one of the more sturdy-looking stone barns and checked I wasn’t about to step out into a cowpat or puddle before I exited the car. Ruining my shoes and dress would be par for the course in my current living nightmare.
Standing in the yard, rolling my stiff shoulders, I shielded my eyes from the sun as I took in the stunning location. All around me fields rose and fell across the Wolds – assuming that’s where I still was – with the occasional building interrupting the greenery. Birds chirped and crickets sang in the long grass. But birds and insects appeared to be the only signs of life. No other animals, no people, no vehicles. I inhaled. No farmyard smells either. This definitely wasn’t a working farm and, judging from the sorry state of it, it could well be abandoned. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on the top of a perfect day?
Hitching up my skirts, I made my way towards the double-fronted farmhouse, pressed the doorbell, and listened for the ring. Nothing. I rapped on the knocker and waited. No answer. Feeling very much like I was casing the joint and that a beefy farmer might clamp his hand on my arm at any moment and yell, ‘Get off my land!’, I cautiously made my way towards one of the large paned windows to the left. The glass looked as though it hadn’t been washed for the past decade, adding to my suspicions that the place had long since been abandoned. Grimacing, I rubbed some of the dirt away with my fingers and peered through one of the glass panes into what looked to be an enormous kitchen-diner. Unless the occupants had left in a hurry mid-task, someone definitely lived there because there was washing up piled in the sink, an open box of cereal and an open carton of milk on the worktop.
Returning to the door, I knocked again, then opened the letterbox and shouted, ‘Hello? Anyone home?’ I stood up and waited for a minute or so, then crouched down and shouted through the letterbox again. ‘Hello?’
Nothing. Damn! Stepping back from the house, I scanned the first floor windows and the dormers on the top floor for signs of life but I couldn’t see anything. I’d try one of the other windows at the front and then I’d have to accept that nobody was home and hope to stumble across another farm – an inhabited one this time.
Making my way towards the house again, I stopped and looked down as something wet slapped against my ankles.
‘Noooo!’
I’d only gone and let go of my dress at some point and it had been dragging through the muddy puddles, a steady band of muck rising up from the hem. My pink shoes were streaked with mud too. Chloe was going to flip. Seriously, could the day get any worse?
Picking up my skirts again – a bit pointless considering the state they were in now – I stepped up to one of the windows to the right of the front door. I rubbed one of the panes before shading my eyes and looking into the lounge. Again, there were signs of life like a mug and a newspaper on the coffee table. Wait. Is that a woman standing near the door? A crow cawing momentarily drew my attention away and, when I looked back, my breath caught. Oh no!
Dashing to the front door, I tried the handle, relief flowing through me as the door opened.
‘Hello?’ I called running down the hall. ‘Can you hear me?’
A white-haired man who looked to be in his eighties was slumped against the lounge wall, his face grey and his eyes closed. Blood trickled from cuts on his head and cheek. My heart thudded. Please don’t let me be too late!
‘Hello? My name’s Sam and I’m a nurse.’
I lifted the man’s wrist and felt for his pulse. It was weak, but it was definitely there. Thank goodness.
‘Hang in there. I’m here to help you.’
I spotted a landline phone on a large dresser and lifted the receiver. Relieved to hear a dialling tone, I called 999.
With the ambulance on its way, there was nothing I could do without my medical bag except try to make him comfortable and reassure him. There was a blanket draped over the back of the sofa.
‘Stay with me,’ I urged the man, tucking the blanket round him and straightening his large dark-framed glasses. ‘Help is on its way.’
His eyes flickered and he murmured something unintelligible.
‘Don’t try to speak. You’re safe now. An ambulance is coming.’ I checked his pulse once more. ‘You’re doing great. You gave me a scare, though. I only stopped by to get some directions. I’m on my way to my cousin’s wedding reception, you see…’
As I jabbered to him, regularly checking his pulse, I couldn’t help picturing Gramps slumped against his headboard that heart breaking Sunday morning. I’d been too late to save him but hopefully I was just in time to save this man.