Trisha Ashley - Twelve Days of Christmas

Billy ? Obviously. But someone might have mentioned it! Luckily it had no horns, but it was now staring at me with light, slightly-mad-looking eyes.

I topped up the water bucket from the tap just outside the loosebox, foiling Billy’s attempt to get out, because I wasn’t sure how easy he would be to get back in again.

There was plenty of hay, both up in a net out of Billy’s reach and in a hayrack lower down. Lady’s warmly-lined rug was secure and she looked comfortable, so I left them to it for the moment.

I’d taken Merlin’s lead out with me and now attached it to his collar: I wasn’t sure if he was likely to run away, but I have learned through long experience that it’s better to be safe than sorry. We went out of the side gate and followed the track alongside the paddock towards the hill. We didn’t go far, though, just enough to stretch Merlin’s poor old legs and mine. By the time we turned back I needed the torch I’d put in my pocket, and the lights in the courtyard looked bright and beckoning.

The wind was biting, so the threatened cold spell might actually be coming and I think we were both glad to get back into the warmth of the kitchen. I was feeling really weary by now, but there was one last task to be performed before I could settle down there: Lady must have her hot mash.

I followed the recipe to the letter: one scoop of quick-soak dried beet, steeped in boiling water for ten minutes, one scoop of chopped alfalfa, two scoops of pony nuts and a handful of linseed cake. Then I left it to cool a bit before stirring in the Equiflex.

It smelled quite nice, considering.

Merlin would have come out to the stables again with me, except that I thought he had had enough of the cold for one day and so shut him in, despite his reproachful expression.

Lady was eager to get her head in the bucket, though I had to hold off Billy, who wanted to share. Even little goats, I found, were surprisingly strong. I’d taken a handful of biscuit-shaped things from a container marked with his name that I’d spotted in the tackroom, but he was more interested in the mash.

Horses give off a surprising amount of heat, don’t they?

Merlin greeted my return with huge relief, as if I’d been gone a week, so I expect the poor old thing was feeling terribly confused.

When I’d thawed out I phoned Laura, but only for long enough to give her the number here to ring me back: clients don’t appreciate you running up huge phone bills, but obviously using my mobile was going to be tricky. I only hoped Sharon was exaggerating the frequency of the phone lines going down. .

‘How are you getting on?’ Laura asked. ‘What are the animals like?’

‘The dog’s an old lurcher, a sweetie called Merlin — he’s a bit lost and lonely, I think, because he keeps following me around. The horse is a white Arab.’

‘Grey, horses are never white.’

‘You can call it grey, but Lady’s as white as snow, with huge, dark eyes. She’s very old, quiet and gentle, so I don’t think looking after her is going to be a problem — except she’s living with this little goat no-one mentioned.’

‘A goat ?’

‘It was in the loosebox with her, so I suppose it’s keeping her company. It’s got a bit of the evil eye and it kept trying to eat her hot mash. I had to hold it off, and it was surprisingly strong.’

‘Hot mash? You had to cook dinner for the horse?’

I described the cordon bleu horse mash and confessed my worry about looking after the elderly, delicate-looking mare, and she made reassuring noises.

‘I’ll tackle mucking out and grooming tomorrow. I only wish I’d been interested in that sort of thing while you were having riding lessons, though I expect it’s just a matter of common sense.’

‘You wheelbarrow the old bedding to the manure heap, and then spread a layer of new straw — simple. Mucking out will be good exercise, too.’

‘Yes, I expect it will.’

‘So, what’s the house like?’

‘Lovely. I’ve only had a quick tour around so far but I can see it’s mostly Jacobean, though part of it looks much older. The central heating isn’t very efficient so I’ll probably light a fire in the big inglenook fireplace in the sitting room tomorrow and that should warm the house through. My bedroom isn’t too bad, because it’s right over the kitchen with the Aga.’

‘How big is this place?’

‘Bigger than I expected, but I’ve cooked for house-parties in much larger and grander houses. The sitting room is huge and looks like it might have started life as a medieval hall, but then two new wings have been added and lots of dark panelling and moulded ceilings.’

‘That sounds pretty grand to me!’

‘You could fit the floor space of my entire house in the kitchen wing with room to spare,’ I admitted.

‘That’s a stately home as far as I’m concerned — and you are in sole possession, the lady of the manor.’

‘Yes, but I know my place: the hired help’s bedroom is in the service wing, though there’s a bathroom opposite with a decent electric shower. I expect I’ll spend most of my time in the kitchen and just take a quick daily walk round the rest of the house to check everything is all right.’

‘Sooner you than me, rattling around alone in a spooky old house in the middle of nowhere.’

I laughed. ‘You know I don’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural! No, I’ll be fine. The cleaner showed me round when I arrived, but she isn’t coming back because she’s got another job. She won’t be any loss, though, because the place is totally filthy and neglected, she can’t have been doing anything. Then again, Jude Martland was paying her a pittance, so you can’t really blame her for that.’

‘So — you’ll be entirely alone all the time? It isn’t really haunted, is it?’

‘Sharon — that’s the cleaner — tried to put the wind up me, telling me about ghosts and an annual local ceremony on Twelfth Night. She seemed to be implying that the villagers would want to use me as some kind of ceremonial sacrifice, but I wasn’t really listening because it was all entirely daft!’

‘You won’t be there that night anyway, will you?’

‘No, I’m leaving that morning, before the client gets back — that was the arrangement Mo and Jim had.’

‘Is it very isolated? I can’t imagine what you’ll do with yourself.’

‘Apart from trying to finish off my cookbook, I’ve brought that tin trunk of Gran’s papers to sort and I’m going to carry on reading her journal at bedtime, too. She’s been sent to a new hospital and made friends, so it’s getting more interesting.’

‘Perhaps that Ned Martland she mentioned was one of the doctors and she had a crush on him?’ she suggested.

‘Maybe,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll tell you if I find out. And I’m not totally isolated here, because the village is only about half a mile away and, if I feel like company, the old couple at the lodge have invited me to drop in any time. But you know me — I like being alone.’

‘Sam was really disappointed when I told him you weren’t coming for Christmas Day after all,’ she hinted, but I just laughed.

By now, it seemed like a week since I had set out for Little Mumming and I decided on an early night.

Merlin and I had our dinner, and then he accompanied me around the ground floor while I checked the doors and windows. We’d returned to the kitchen and I was just about to fill my trusty hot water bottle, when suddenly the phone on the large dresser rang loudly, nearly giving me a heart attack.

‘Is that Holly Brown?’ demanded a deep voice that seemed to vibrate right down to my feet and back again in a very novel, if slightly disturbing, way.