Silently cursing Frank, I made my way to the front door. Grandpa stepped outside, after me. ‘This door is so hard to close,’ I yelled, trying to pull it shut. Somehow, I managed to give the old door a huge yank that secured it.
Grandpa took his flat cap out of his pocket and put it on. ‘That crafty dog will have worked out our weakness – shutting that door. This doesn’t bode well.’
‘Great,’ I sighed, giving the old door a huge yank.
The snow had stopped falling which was a relief. There was only a thin coating on the ground. Once in my car, we crawled down the gravel drive at a snail’s pace, looking across the grounds for Humphrey. Maybe he hadn’t chosen to leave the driveway. I was certain the white snow would make it easier to spot a brown spaniel. ‘I can’t believe we have lost Humphrey and I’ve invited their cleaner to stay for Christmas,’ I said, feeling anxious. ‘Two of Maddie and Frank’s rules broken already. If Frank is going to watch us on his security cameras he is in for a shock. Maybe I should message Maddie and tell her?’
Grandpa shook his head. ‘Let them enjoy their holiday. They don’t need to know.’ He gave me a mischievous wink.
‘Maddie said Frank has security cameras.’
Grandpa let out a sigh. ‘Frank has other things on his mind like that business deal he’s trying to win. He’ll be too wrapped up in that. Rachel, he was too busy to even talk to us earlier. Trust me on this.’
We headed out of the gates and turned into the lane to go into Harp Brook village.
‘Where would a dog like Humphrey run away to, Grandpa?’
With a chuckle, Grandpa shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s got a lady dog friend?’
I drove slowly past the row of three little cottages with their snow-capped roofs, which were directly after the gates to the Manor House. Grandpa and I both scanned the front gardens for a sighting of Humphrey. Once past the cottages, I headed into Harp Brook.
‘Do you think he ran to the village?’
‘Park up,’ ordered Grandpa. ‘It will give us a chance to have a look around the village. Might even pop in for a pint.’ He grinned and gestured towards one of the pubs, The Nag’s Head.
‘We need to find Humphrey first, Grandpa. Aunty Karen gave me strict orders to restrict you to half a shandy on Christmas Day.’
‘Rachel, it’s Christmas. A time to enjoy ourselves.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ I mumbled, scanning the road and houses for Humphrey. ‘I keep forgetting.’
After parking near the church, we both got out. Grandpa went to look at the Church noticeboard. I walked up and down the high street, shouting, ‘Humphrey!’ and scanning the road. There was no sign of the little spaniel.
Grandpa came to meet me. ‘There’s a Senior Christmas Tea Dance on Monday afternoon in the church hall,’ he announced cheerfully.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Now is not the time for checking out social events, Grandpa. Where is Humphrey? I don’t think he would have come this far.’
Grandpa shrugged. ‘When Flo had him, he was found five miles away one time. He’d been missing for eight hours mind. That dog will travel.’
‘Five miles away?’ I gasped.
There were a few little shops behind us. I went into the first one, a cute gift shop selling cards, pieces of beautiful pottery, scented candles, stationery, and jewellery. The doorbell jingled as I entered it. A woman behind the counter with bushy brown hair and a cheery smile beamed at me. ‘Hello, can I help you?’
‘We’ve lost our dog,’ I said. ‘We don’t think he’s come this far but can I leave my mobile number in case anyone finds him?’
The woman chuckled. ‘My dog is always crawling under our fence and running away. I feel your pain.’ She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.
‘He’s called Humphrey and he’s my sister’s dog. I’m not from Harp Brook.’
She beamed at me. ‘I thought I didn’t recognise you,’ the woman replied. ‘Who is your sister?’
‘Maddie Baxter.’
The woman’s cheery disposition evaporated before my eyes. ‘Oh, I see,’ she said. The tone in her voice had changed. It was no longer bright and welcoming. ‘It’s the Baxter’s dog.’ Her dark eyes narrowed. ‘You are her sister?’
I nodded. ‘I’m Rachel. My sister and her husband have gone away for Christmas. My grandpa and I are dog sitting. Do you want my mobile number?’
She scribbled it down and circled the surname Baxter several times. ‘I’ll keep an eye out,’ she mumbled and hurried into the back of her shop.
