Page 19 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

‘Don’t tell me you want to take Shaun the Sheep for a drink?’ ground out Evan. He waited for me to kill the engine and, as soon as I did so, bundled the lamb back over to me.

I gave him a sarcastic look.

‘Because if he doesn’t want one, I do.’ He adjusted his suit jacket. ‘I feel like I’m in a Monty Python sketch.’

I tutted at his sarcasm. ‘What did you expect me to do? Just ignore Pirate and let him be mowed down?’

‘Pirate?’ echoed Evan. ‘Who the hell is Pirate?’

‘Well, it’s not a nickname I’ve conjured up for you.’ I could think of a few, but they aren’t polite ones, I concluded darkly to myself.

I gave the lamb a gentle squeeze as he nestled in my arms. ‘I think he looks like a sweet little pirate, with that black patch over his eye.’

Evan groaned. ‘Oh my God… I really am in a Monty Python sketch.’

I ignored him. ‘I thought if we took him into the pub, someone might recognise that blue mark on him and know which farm he comes from.’

‘I need that drink more than ever now,’ murmured Evan, although I thought I detected a faint smile teasing his mouth for a second. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, so I wasn’t sure.

He clambered out of the passenger side while I retrieved my bag from the back seat and slung it on, all while juggling Pirate in my arms. He seemed to have become used to being carted around.

I locked up Marlene and hurried to catch up with Evan who was stalking ahead across the pub car park in his designer suit. Pirate bumped gently in my arms.

The gold wooden sign creaked over our heads, proclaiming the pub’s name to be The Lake and Lantern.

Evan frowned down at Pirate in my arms. ‘Are we really doing this?’

I scowled up at him while rubbing Pirate’s head. ‘Of course. Unless you want me to drop you back at that dark woodland, and I’ll take this little bundle onwards to Scotland with me.’

Evan rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t doubt you’re serious.’

I could feel Pirate’s little piston of a heart bumping against my chest. ‘Believe me, the more I see of some people, the more I like animals. They love you unconditionally, and they don’t lie to you or let you down.’

Evan gave me a long look. ‘Not everyone’s like that, Daisy.’

I arched one cynical brow. ‘I’ve yet to be convinced.’

He straightened his shirt collar. ‘A journalist, an actor and a sheep go into a pub. That’s the start of a joke.’ The amber glimmer from inside the pub slid down his compelling features. I turned my attention back to Pirate and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

‘I just hope I don’t bump into anyone I know,’ grumbled Evan, pushing one of the double doors.

‘I think that’s unlikely.’

The three of us stepped inside to be greeted by a handful of customers propping up the polished, semi-circular bar. It was all velvet green, cushioned chairs and booths, brass ornaments and dramatic black and white framed photographs of Lake Windermere, Coniston and Derwent Water adorning the walls.

It wasn’t packed out for a Saturday night, but a couple of the cosy booths were occupied by patrons.

I gave Pirate another stroke.

A few of the drinkers, who were casually arranged around the bar, turned to see who’d just stepped inside. Evan dropped his voice. ‘I’ve seen horror films that start like this.’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake,’ I complained out of the corner of my mouth. ‘Do you ever say anything positive?’

Not waiting for his pithy reply, I gathered my confidence and strode up to the bar with Pirate cradled in both my arms, as though this was no unusual occurrence on a Saturday night in these parts.

‘What would you both like?’ beamed the man behind the bar. He had a shiny, red face and a thin, fair combover.

Evan stepped up beside me and moved to speak.