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Mitch glanced over his shoulder and then back at Holly. ‘I think they can take a look without us.’
‘I want to know my animals are safe.’ Holly could hear her voice rising in pitch. She realised she sounded neurotic but was beyond caring.
Mitch put up his hands as if she was pointing a gun at him. ‘Okay, we’ll wait together.’
Holly did not want to hold up the ambulance. Someone might be at death’s door. She stood up. Instead of taking Mitch’s outstretched hand, she held onto a rail in the ambulance as she got out, taking her foil blanket with her.
The paramedic jumped out, then slammed the back door shut. ‘Good luck, Holly.’ He turned to Mitch. ‘I’d keep her awake for another hour at least to make sure there are no respiratory issues. Then she needs rest.’ He turned back to Holly. ‘A proper-lie in for you tomorrow. I know it’s hard, you’ve a lot to take in and some tough times ahead. But your health is number one. You won’t be able to handle anything without your strength. So rest up. Yes?’
Holly nodded.
The paramedic gazed at the burned ruins. ‘And I suggest you get to your GP as soon as you feel able.’ He turned to Mitch. ‘Any problems tonight – any at all, go straight to Accident and Emergency.’
Holly took one step forward, the gravel beneath her feet felt rough and sharp through her socks as she took small steps. Feeling woozy, she was unsure whether it was from the wine or smoke. Mitch came to her side and guided her by the elbow. Holly wanted to tell him that she did not need his help, but decided against it. After all, she did owe him. Her body felt like it was tightening, as if the blood in her veins was solidifying and slowly turning to stone. An icy cold emanated from inside as she watched her breath in the cooling air.
The ambulance rattled away, lights flashing, on to another poor lost soul.It could be worse,Holly thought.I could have been scarred for life or burned to death.She swallowed hard. Apart from a lone fire engine, she was left with Mitch.
He broke the silence. ‘You shouldn’t walk far without shoes. You need to be inside.’ He scanned the car park. ‘I don’t want to leave you here, while I get the truck.’ Holly watched his face as he rubbed his jaw. ‘I could carry you there. Piggy-back style?’
Shutting her eyes she gave an inward groan.Please, no. Delving into a pocket in her cargos she pulled out her keys. ‘My van – it’s parked over there.’ She pointed towards the van and clicked the key fob. The side-lights flashed as it unlocked.
Mitch took the keys from her. ‘You stay here, I’ll bring it over.’
Holly watched as he strode away. A fox cried out in the distance and she shivered, listening to the distant squabble of her hens and the odd bleat from Charlie the goat. She wanted to rush over to calm them but lacked the energy. The van’s engine came to life, cutting through the night-time chorus. Mitch slowly drove up to her and she stepped forward. Jumping out, he opened the passenger door before helping her. Once inside, she pushed her folio and mobile phone, still on the passenger seat, into the middle of the three-seater van and sat down.
‘You okay there?’ Mitch asked as soon as he got into the driver’s seat.
Holly nodded, her mouth felt dry and tasted sour. A mix of smoke and wine. Leaning forward, she pulled a tub of gum from the cup holder and popped some into her mouth. Offering them to Mitch, he took one and smiled.
Mint danced in her mouth as she crunched on the coating of the gum. Whilst refreshing, it irritated her throat. Mitch stared straight ahead. The silence would have been awkward if she had cared.Peering out of the side window, Holly observed a few orange coals glinting like beached stars. She wanted no-one’s pity and that was what she could see in Mitch’s eyes when he looked at her.
Holly tapped her folio, which was positioned between them. ‘At least I have one painting left.’
‘You still paint?’
‘I’m an artist.’ The words echoed in her head.Am I an artist? Still an artist, with no work to show for it?She coughed away a sob. Art had always saved her. It had been the thing she turned to in times of trouble. ‘Apparently the fire started in my studio.’ Holly stroked the folio. ‘Now this is my last remaining piece of work.’ They sat in silence for a while until the headlights of a small van lit up the car park.
‘I’ll take them over.’ Mitch jumped out of the van as the RSPCA officer parked up. Holly watched Mitch lead the yawning officer towards the animals until they were out of sight. She drifted off to sleep.
Holly joltedawake as Mitch slammed the van door and started the engine.
‘Sorry to startle you but you need to stay awake for at least another half hour. Paramedic’s orders.’
Holly straightened herself up. She felt warm, too warm, so shrugged off the foil blanket. Picking out a discarded receipt from her glove compartment, she removed the chewing gum from her mouth.
‘Good news though. All the animals are safe and have settled down. They’ll probably need extra attention tomorrow. I can see to them if you like?’
‘No, no that’s fine.’ The last thing Holly wanted was Mitch interfering with her life. ‘I’ll have staff coming in and it’ll give them something to do – what with the nursery …’ Holly’s voice trailed off and she stared into the darkness of the night as Mitch began the short drive to the farmhouse. She had never been to Booth Farm. As a child, she used to find it odd at school when they learned in assembly to ‘love thy neighbour,’ when she did not speak to hers, having only seen Sidney Booth up close a few times. From what she could gather, the bad feeling was due to an historic land dispute. The Loveland’s had bought the higher ground from Sidney Booth’s grandfather and the sale was later disputed on the grounds of old Henry being ill at the time and not of sound mind. But she knew there was more to it than that, something to do with her granny.
Someone at school had once told her that Old Man Booth had loved Granny Ivy but when she had told her mother, she had gone crazy. ‘Don’t listen to village gossip. Ever!’ After that, she had refrained from asking her mother for any further details. Her mum had always got upset when she had talked about Granny Ivy, because Granny Ivy had died giving birth to her.
As they drove down the nursery drive the van swung around a corner, passing the gate covering an entrance between the nursery and the farm.
Mitch coughed. ‘I haven’t managed to open that gate. That’s why I popped over earlier. There doesn’t seem to be a key for the lock, I had to jump it to get up to your place tonight.’
‘I’ve never seen it open.’ Holly exhaled and winced at the sharpness of her chest. ‘And I don’t have a key. As you are well aware, our families have not been on good terms for some years.’ Holly’s comment dangled in the air. Even though there had been a rift between the Lovelands and Booths, the Lovelands had always had the upper hand. She wondered whether Mitch was enjoying the tables being turned. Moving about in her seat, she felt oddly disrespectful to her ancestors for accepting generosity from the family who had painted the Lovelands as being ruthless. A reputation she had had to live with too – even though she was far from tough on the inside.
Holly wondered whether Mitch’s wife would be waiting at the door, she had not noticed him call anyone. She rubbed her forehead.Make conversation, be nice,she told herself. ‘Where did you meet your wife? In the farming community?’
