Page 20 of Winter Wishes at Pennycress Inn

Grab her? Her, Scarlett? Dropping her sketchbook to the ground, she willed herself to move, willed herself to do as Charlie had asked, to run after the sheep, to ‘grab her’, but she just couldn’t. She was frozen to the spot.

As Charlie ran off down the hill, Scarlett felt something nudge her from behind and screamed. Twisting on her feet, she came face to face with the fluffy, woolly creature who paused, seemingly oblivious to her fear – or not; maybe the thing was feeding off her terror – ducked its head and began eating the grass by her feet.

Scarlett stood there, hardly breathing for fear of breaking the spell of stillness, and kept her eyes focused on the animal as it smashed its teeth against the blades of grass. Her sketchbook was barely a few inches from its mouth, but she just couldn’t bring herself to bend and pick it up.

‘Well done.’ Having spotted the sheep, Charlie jogged back up the hill and slipped a halter over its neck before placing his hands on his knees and taking deep breaths in. ‘Thank you.’

Shaking herself, she backed away and shoved her hands in her pockets. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘Maybe not, but she loves people and so gravitated towards you.’ Charlie grinned. ‘Scarlett, meet Claudette, our resident sheep.’

Scarlett grimaced as bile formed in her throat. ‘She lives here?’

‘She sure does. The poor thing escaped from one of the local farms and was running around the village snatching people’s shopping and clearing out residents’ flowerbeds, believe it or not. So when she turned up here at Little Mead, I gave her a home.’

‘She was running around the village?’ So that’s what Rowan had been talking about when she’d first met him.

‘Yes, for months I believe. No one could catch her. She’s a proper little Houdini is our Claudette. Anyway, she has a home for life here now.’ Charlie leaned over and covered Claudette’s ears. ‘No premature ending for this one.’

‘Oh, that’s really sweet,’ Scarlett forced out before glancing behind her in the direction of the farmhouse. If she’d known there was a sheep on the farm, she might have thought twice about taking up Nicola’s offer of staying here, and if she’d known the sheep was a ‘proper Houdini’ as Charlie put it, she most definitely wouldn’t have. ‘I should get going back to the house.’

‘Okay. Don’t forget this.’ Bending, Charlie picked up Scarlett’s sketchbook and held it out to her.

Taking a tentative step forward, Scarlett quickly snatched the sketchbook before tucking it under her arm. ‘Thanks.’

‘No worries.’ Charlie turned his attention back to Claudette. ‘Let’s get you back to your field and try to work out how you got out, shall we? We can’t have you terrorising the poor villagers again.’

Terrorising the villagers? Yes, that’s right, Rowan had told her a sheep had been causing chaos. She shuddered as she picked up her pace. There were sheep; sheep at Little Mead. Where she was staying!

The tune of her mobile pierced the calm country air around her, and she pulled it from her pocket, hitting the answer button as she glanced back over her shoulder towards Charlie and Claudette. ‘Hello?’

‘Finally. Hello, sweetheart.’ The once charming voice of Tyler met her ear, and she fought the urge to throw the phone to the ground.

Drat, she wouldn’t have picked up if she’d seen his name on the screen. Another reason to hate sheep, she supposed. Swallowing, she took a deep breath in, steadying her nerves after the encounter with Claudette before answering. ‘Tyler. What do you want?’

‘First of all, I want to know that you’re safe. Are you, Scarlett? Have you found somewhere to stay? I just keep thinking of you sleeping in that godawful van at the side of the road somewhere.’ His voice was laced with concern.

‘I’m fine. What do you want?’ She repeated her question. She was pretty certain he knew she’d been living in her van, but it had been over four months now since she’d left the flat, so why was he suddenly pretending to be concerned about her living situation after all this time? Had he and Donna finally split? Had his wife seen the light? Realised he would not change? She thought back to the night she’d discovered that the secret life he was leading was a little more extreme than she’d first believed. When she’d found the phone charger in his car, the phone charger which hadn’t fitted her or his mobiles, and she’d followed him, she assumed he’d been having an affair and she’d been absolutely devastated. Little had she known when she’d barged into the house she’d followed him to that she’d find a wife and a child. The cruel twist of fate had been that she’d been the mistress all along and however much he pretended to care for her or plead for her to come back to him, she had to remember what he’d done to her, how much he’d broken her, how he’d made her view herself and hate herself for something she’d had no control or knowledge over.

‘The sale of the flat goes through tomorrow. Come back and I can pull out of the sale, we can make it our home again.’

‘Tyler, it was never our home; it was only ever your dirty little secret from Donna.’ Looking down as the grass turned into the cracked slabs of the yard, she felt a stirring of pride that she’d kept her voice steady.

‘I’ll leave Donna. We can set up a proper home for us. Have those kids we were always talking about. Go on, come home. You know you want to, you know you miss me.’

As she pushed open the door to the farmhouse, she frowned. How had she never heard it before? His voice wasn’t filled with charm, it was smarm. And she’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for him for too long. Now though, she’d seen him for who he really was, and however much it hurt, she wasn’t going to go back. She’d never be able to trust him again. Heck, she wouldn’t be able to trust anyone. How could she? ‘I’m not coming back. Ever, and please don’t call me again.’

‘Scarlett, wait. In that case, I think you have something of mine.’

She closed the front door behind her, making sure it clicked into place so the sheep didn’t run inside on another of her escapades. ‘Nope. I don’t think so. I left everything at the flat. I only took what was mine.’

‘You do. You know you do, and I need it back.’

She frowned at the change of tone in his voice. She’d only ever heard the smarm, the pretend charm, the lie of kindness, but this, now he sounded like a complete stranger, his tone was cold as though he’d simply shut all and any feelings he might ever have felt for her off and was talking to someone he’d passed in the street. Or worse, someone he hated. She dropped to the bottom stair before answering, the shake in her voice audible. ‘No, I don’t. I even left the towels, and I’d bought them.’

‘I’m not talking about the bloody towels, Scarlett, I’m talking about the damn guinea pig.’

‘Thelma?’