Starting in the farmyard, I systematically checked every barn, activating my phone torch to see into dark corners. I didn’t expect her to have joined the goats but I went through the gate and checked their pen anyway.
I must have been out for about an hour and the light was starting to fade. Another hour and we’d be in complete darkness. In the distance, I spotted Caleb running. We might not have made friends but he’d know the farm better than me so I needed his help. I ran up to him, waving my arms so he’d stop. He drew to a halt, frowning at me as he removed one of his earbuds.
‘Have you seen a ginger cat?’
‘No.’
‘Mine’s missing. My daughter let her out and… I’m worried sick. Can you think of anywhere a cat might hide?’
The tears I’d fought so hard to keep bottled up rolled down my cheeks and Caleb’s expression immediately softened.
‘A few. Come back to the cottage with me. I’ll leave Scampi inside and help you look. Are you up for running?’
I nodded and jogged alongside him, appreciating that he’d slowed his pace a little for me. I wasn’t a fan of running, preferring to keep active through horse riding and long walks with the dogs.
We reached Peartree Cottage and I followed Caleb and Scampi through the front porch and into a hall. Scampi darted through a doorway to the left and I heard him lapping water.
‘Come into the kitchen a sec,’ Caleb said, heading through the same doorway as Scampi.
He indicated that I should sit at a small table.
‘Water?’ he asked, opening a cupboard and taking out a glass.
‘No, thanks.’
As he filled the glass and glugged it down, a thought struck me.
‘I’ve still got your drinks bottle. Sorry. I kept meaning to return it.’
‘It’s fine. You can knock it off the rent.’ His expression was deadpan but there was a twinkle in his eyes and I very much appreciated the humour.
‘I’ll grab some more clothes and then we’ll head out.’
Until he said that, I hadn’t even registered that he was wearing shorts but, as he passed me, I couldn’t help but notice how exceptionally toned his legs were. Scampi jumped up at me and I stroked him until Caleb returned dressed in cargo trousers and a fresh T-shirt.
‘I used to have a cat so we’ll start with her favourite haunts. Scampi, to your bed. Back soon.’
Scampi obediently trotted across the hall and into what I presumed was the lounge. It was weird to think that I actually owned this cottage but I’d never been inside until now. On viewing day, Anna had apologised for being unable to show us around, saying she’d forgotten to seek permission from Caleb and couldn’t get hold of him.
Outside, I followed Caleb along a flagstone path between the cottage and the forge and onto a lane running along the back of Peartree Cottage’s garden. I was conscious I should probably talk to him – perhaps ask him about his cat and whathad happened to it – but I was too worried about Clemmie to make small talk. Caleb didn’t ask me any questions either so we walked at pace in silence across several fields in which there were the remains of stone barns or shelters. Each time we approached one, I shook the packet of treats and called Clemmie’s name, desperately hoping she’d appear. My heart sank with every place explored without success.
‘I know it’s hard, but keep the faith,’ Caleb said as we left the fourth shelter. ‘Still plenty more places to look.’
My phone beeped with a message and, seeing Mam’s name on the screen, I hoped it was her telling me Clemmie had found her way home.
From Mam
Can I help? Let me know if there’s anywhere you haven’t been x
To Mam
I spotted Caleb and he’s helping. No luck so far. Thanks but please stay inside as I don’t want to be worried about you out in the dark on your own x
The light was almost gone as Caleb led me over a barred gate and across another field towards a tumbledown wooden shed, which I definitely hadn’t noticed before.
‘Is this the far end of the farm?’ I asked. I’d completely lost my bearings but presumably we were near our boundary. I hadn’t explored this far yet.
‘Yes. It’s the last field but there’s one more barn to try on the neighbour’s farm if Clemmie’s not here. Gouda didn’t care about boundaries.’
