watching out for its back legs.
Something red fluttered above her. It was the corner of a blanket hanging from under the roof. It seemed to be on a shelf. Curious, Hannah spotted a ladder nailed to the wall. Testing it first, she climbed up. At the top there was a large storage shelf that stretched the width of the garage, just three feet under the arched roof. On it lay a dusty red blanket, some empty vegetable crates, a bucket, a deflated bicycle tyre, three packets of unopened crisps and a scattering of grain. This was useful. Will might be able to store equipment up here.
She took the blanket and bucket back down, tied the blanket on the donkey with their gardening twine from London, then washed out and filled the bucket with snow. The donkey’s thin ears shot up momentarily.
‘Now, listen,’ she said, patting its neck and untying it, ‘you’ve got to be quiet, or your owner will notice you’re gone and tell the police I’ve stolen you. And that would be bad, before I get a chance to explain, OK?’
She shut the garage doors behind her, and ran back to the house with the wet blanket, desperate to get warm.
Hannah pushed the front door.
It wouldn’t budge.
She stood back. ‘What the . . . ?’
It was locked.
She pushed again, uselessly. If she was stuck outside in the snow, she was in trouble.
The snow ploughed into her, coating her eyelashes and filling her nostrils. She felt her internal temperature dropping further.
Think.
There was nothing else for it. Hannah found a rock in the flower border, wrapped her hand in her coat sleeve and smashed the window.
She cleared the glass and leant through.
The latch was down. How had that happened – had it slipped?
Back in the freezing hall, she threw off her wet coat and boots and regarded the broken window.
Great. Now the front door was not safe tonight, and there was another problem to fix before Barbara came.
Muttering crossly, Hannah fetched a plastic bag and Sellotape from the kitchen, and taped the bag over the broken window to keep out the snow. Then she searched in a box and found the triangular wooden doorstop that she used when travelling. She jammed it under the bottom of the front door for extra security, wishing Will and her parents were here. She’d had enough today.
She hung the blanket up to dry on the upper banister, then went to her bedroom. Her teeth were no longer just chattering, but slamming together now. Remembering her emergency training at work, she stripped off her wet clothes and wrapped herself, naked, in the soft wool blanket from the guestroom. She climbed back under the duvet. Long shudders racked her body.
She lay, listening.
There was one – less noisy – bray from the garage. Then another.
Just when Hannah had resigned herself to a very long night, finally it stopped.
She should have felt relief, but she didn’t.
This was a disaster. First the boiler, then the window, on top of being forced to abduct a donkey.
As her shaking decreased, Hannah turned over, trying to sleep. Yet an uncomfortable thought kept her awake. Eight months ago, if she’d found an animal in those conditions, she would have rung the RSPCA in the middle of the night and waited with the donkey till they arrived.
She wouldn’t have worried about talking to the neighbour first, or about the consequences for herself.
Hannah shut her eyes more tightly and summoned her decorating schedule.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Will woke in the Smart Yak studio that Tuesday morning with his first hangover in years. He stretched out his back on the lumpy sofa, feeling the old familiar parched mouth and the tightness in his temples. It was worth it, though. He and Jeremiah had cracked ‘Carrie’ last night. In fact, he hadn’t felt this good about a track for ages – probably because he hadn’t been able to concentrate for so long, thanks to Hannah’s obsession with the move out of London.
Around 1 a.m. Jeremiah had had the brilliant idea – without realizing
Something red fluttered above her. It was the corner of a blanket hanging from under the roof. It seemed to be on a shelf. Curious, Hannah spotted a ladder nailed to the wall. Testing it first, she climbed up. At the top there was a large storage shelf that stretched the width of the garage, just three feet under the arched roof. On it lay a dusty red blanket, some empty vegetable crates, a bucket, a deflated bicycle tyre, three packets of unopened crisps and a scattering of grain. This was useful. Will might be able to store equipment up here.
She took the blanket and bucket back down, tied the blanket on the donkey with their gardening twine from London, then washed out and filled the bucket with snow. The donkey’s thin ears shot up momentarily.
‘Now, listen,’ she said, patting its neck and untying it, ‘you’ve got to be quiet, or your owner will notice you’re gone and tell the police I’ve stolen you. And that would be bad, before I get a chance to explain, OK?’
She shut the garage doors behind her, and ran back to the house with the wet blanket, desperate to get warm.
Hannah pushed the front door.
It wouldn’t budge.
She stood back. ‘What the . . . ?’
It was locked.
She pushed again, uselessly. If she was stuck outside in the snow, she was in trouble.
The snow ploughed into her, coating her eyelashes and filling her nostrils. She felt her internal temperature dropping further.
Think.
There was nothing else for it. Hannah found a rock in the flower border, wrapped her hand in her coat sleeve and smashed the window.
She cleared the glass and leant through.
The latch was down. How had that happened – had it slipped?
Back in the freezing hall, she threw off her wet coat and boots and regarded the broken window.
Great. Now the front door was not safe tonight, and there was another problem to fix before Barbara came.
Muttering crossly, Hannah fetched a plastic bag and Sellotape from the kitchen, and taped the bag over the broken window to keep out the snow. Then she searched in a box and found the triangular wooden doorstop that she used when travelling. She jammed it under the bottom of the front door for extra security, wishing Will and her parents were here. She’d had enough today.
She hung the blanket up to dry on the upper banister, then went to her bedroom. Her teeth were no longer just chattering, but slamming together now. Remembering her emergency training at work, she stripped off her wet clothes and wrapped herself, naked, in the soft wool blanket from the guestroom. She climbed back under the duvet. Long shudders racked her body.
She lay, listening.
There was one – less noisy – bray from the garage. Then another.
Just when Hannah had resigned herself to a very long night, finally it stopped.
She should have felt relief, but she didn’t.
This was a disaster. First the boiler, then the window, on top of being forced to abduct a donkey.
As her shaking decreased, Hannah turned over, trying to sleep. Yet an uncomfortable thought kept her awake. Eight months ago, if she’d found an animal in those conditions, she would have rung the RSPCA in the middle of the night and waited with the donkey till they arrived.
She wouldn’t have worried about talking to the neighbour first, or about the consequences for herself.
Hannah shut her eyes more tightly and summoned her decorating schedule.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Will woke in the Smart Yak studio that Tuesday morning with his first hangover in years. He stretched out his back on the lumpy sofa, feeling the old familiar parched mouth and the tightness in his temples. It was worth it, though. He and Jeremiah had cracked ‘Carrie’ last night. In fact, he hadn’t felt this good about a track for ages – probably because he hadn’t been able to concentrate for so long, thanks to Hannah’s obsession with the move out of London.
Around 1 a.m. Jeremiah had had the brilliant idea – without realizing
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