The Nothing Girl (14 page)

I said to Thomas, ‘Can you do anything?’

He said, ‘
I think so,
’ and went to stand close by, hooves sinking into the mud. Lowering his head, he nuzzled behind her ears. She stood still, not knowing why. Her ears drooped and her eyes closed.

‘Well done.’

‘
I don’t think that’s me. I think she’s just too weak to put up any sort of fight.
’

Russell came out of the truck, his face tight and angry. He took my arm. ‘You don’t want to go in there, Jenny.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’m afraid so. Come on, let’s go and look at the one we might be able to save.’

Thomas had done his work well. She stood quietly, head lowered, too weak and too distressed to struggle.

Russell stood for a moment, looked thoughtfully over his shoulder at the gate and then at me.

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Need you ask?’

‘Right then, I don’t think she can walk, so …’

He stepped forward, put one arm under her tail, another around her chest ,and lifted a very surprised little donkey off the ground. She hung, legs dangling, and tried to eat his jacket.

‘Can you get the gate?’

He set off, staggering slightly in the mud and I squelched along behind, a fully-fledged accessory to donkey-napping.

The gate was padlocked.

Carefully, he set her down and she immediately started to eat my coat. Thomas lowered his head again.

‘Sometimes,’ said Russell, ‘you can get these gates off their hinges. Can you give me a hand?’ We got our shoulders under the top rail and the gate fell apart, so we could add property damage to the charge sheet.

He picked up the donkey again and we all set off down the road.

I said, ‘Should I put the gate back?’

I’m quite law-abiding.

‘No point.’

Russell isn’t.

He was angry, but not with me, so I hurried after him.

‘Jenny, I’m going to put her in the back. Will you sit with her and just try to keep her calm? I don’t think you’ll have any problems. I’m sorry, she’s covered in mud and worse, but I can’t see any other way and I want Andrew to see her as quickly as possible. Do you mind?’

‘No,’ I said, truthfully and scrambled in. He heaved her over and Thomas was there as well.

I heard him speak briefly on his phone and then the engine started up. She had a bit of a skitter, but Thomas worked his magic and we got back to Frogmorton mostly unscathed.

We backed into the yard and both Kevin and Mrs Crisp came out to see why we were back so early. I don’t know what they were expecting, but it probably wasn’t this.

Russell appeared and I passed her over. He stood with her in his arms, her legs dangling again as everyone gawped.

‘What is it?’ asked Mrs Crisp, a little more unfocused than she usually was at this time of day and clutching her security tea towel.

‘It’s a dog?’ said Kevin, doubtfully.

‘
Are you all right in there, Jenny? You got bumped about a bit.
’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry about me. Stay with her in case she’s frightened.’

A car beeped in the lane and Andrew arrived. I had hoped Tanya might be with him, but he was alone. He crossed the yard and stood in front of Russell.

‘It’s a donkey,’ he said at last.

‘Good to see all those years at vet school have paid off,’ said Russell. ‘We lesser mortals were thinking it was a giant rabbit.’

Andrew looked around. ‘Where’s Jenny? You haven’t swapped her for a donkey, have you?’

‘I’m here,’ I said from the back. ‘I’m just a bit stiff and I can’t get out.’

Kevin gave me a hand and I tumbled gracelessly from the back of the Rover. ‘Good morning, Andrew. Thank you for coming.’

‘You know, you’re much too good for Russell. He’s never thanked anyone for coming in his life.’

‘Well, I have, but possibly in a completely different context. I don’t want to rush anyone, but although there’s not very much of her, I’d like to put her down soon. And she’s sucking my jacket again.’

‘Don’t let her do that – donkey digestion is quite fragile.’

Before anyone could move, however, she twisted her head, batted huge eyelashes at Russell, and widdled all down his front.

‘Oh, that’s a good sign,’ said Andrew. ‘Her kidneys are working. Kevin, can you put a few inches of warm water in a bucket for her, please. Don’t fill it up. I don’t want her to have too much too quickly.’

‘No,’ said Russell, grimly surveying his ex-trousers. ‘We wouldn’t want to overload her already fully functioning bladder.’

‘Let’s get her inside, then.’

We all trailed into the stables.

Russell put her down gently in the stall next to Boxer. She stood with all her legs at different angles, looking around her.

Andrew followed him in. ‘Have you ever noticed, Russ, sooner or later, all your women end up pissing on you from a great height? Although not usually this soon into your relationship.’

‘Just see to the donkey, will you? That’s why you’re here.’

‘No, I’m here for a free lunch, if the wonderful Jenny will have me.’

‘It’s got nothing to do with Jenny. I’m the head of the household. I make the decisions here.’

I spoke up. ‘Andrew, please stay for lunch.’

‘Thank you, Jenny. I’d love to.’ He was crouched low, peering at her feet. ‘Where’s our neurotic nit-wit this morning?

‘Next door, breaking his neck trying to see what’s going on. Do you want me to take him out? Give her a bit of peace?’

‘No, donkeys are herd animals. She may find his presence reassuring.’

‘Are you sure? He’s not Brain of Britain, you know. It’s very likely she’s much brighter than he is.’

‘Russell, there are single-celled organisms that are brighter than your horse. Can you open the partition? Gently. We don’t want to frighten her.’

The result was not at all what we expected. We stepped back and she and Boxer got their first look at each other.

It was love at first sight. He stretched his neck towards her, blowing gently. She struggled to take a few steps, tottering like a cross between baby Bambi and Shaun the Sheep. She lifted her head to him, peering through those huge eyelashes, like Marilyn Monroe. Rachmaninov played in the background. Somewhere, a bluebird sang.

‘Oh,’ said Mrs Crisp. ‘How sweet.’

We all said, ‘Aaaaah.’ It was a magical moment.

She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her whole body inflated. She braced her spindly legs.

‘
Oh-oh,
’ said Thomas. ‘
Incoming.
’

I always thought donkeys said, ‘Hee-haw.’ That’s how you always see it written. Nice and neat. And brief. Hee-haw.

Wrong. Our donkey goes:

‘EEEEEEEAAAAAWWWOOOOAARGGHHH,’

pauses briefly for the echoes to die away and then continues with:

‘EEEEEEEEEAAAAAWWWWWEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAWWWWWOOOOORRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH,’ tailing away to a ghastly bubbling groan like a belligerent cockerel having its throat cut. And it was loud. Good God, was it loud. Birds fell from the trees. The windows rattled. A low-flying jet did a quick U-turn and returned to base to complain about the noise.

‘
Good grief!
’

‘Bloody Nora,’ said Andrew. ‘What the hell have you unleashed on the world now, Russ?’

Russell regarded his cousin indignantly. ‘You could have warned us.’

‘How the hell was I supposed to know she sounded like the Texas Chain Saw Massacre? How can such a tiny thing produce so much noise? Is everyone all right?’

‘I think my ears are bleeding,’ said Russell.

‘No one cares about you. You brought her here. This is all your fault.’

‘You can’t blame me for this. It was Jenny’s idea to go to Rushby.’

They both turned to look at me.

‘You mean you abandoned your wife’s lovely day out to cover her with donkey slime?’

It was true. I was covered in the many body fluids a sick and frightened donkey can produce in what it perceives as a crisis. Never mind Russell’s jacket. They were going to have to send me to the cleaners as well.

Andrew became business-like, unfastening his case. ‘Russell, you can stay. Everyone else leave now please, so I can have a good look at her.’

We trailed out. Mrs Crisp made me stand on a newspaper while she helped me off with my coat, which had borne the worst of it. The rest of me wasn’t too bad.

The three of us had a cup of tea.

Kevin was enthusiastic. ‘She’s so cool. Can we keep her?’

‘She’s stolen property,’ I said, remembering. ‘We’re all going to prison.’

‘No,’ said Mrs Crisp. ‘Not looking at the state of her. She looks as if she’s been abandoned. And for some time too.’

I remembered the railway truck Russell wouldn’t let me go into.

‘Suppose the owner turns up and wants her back?’

She shook her head. ‘He won’t let her go back. He was like this as a boy. The place was full of sick strays. He kept them all. Once you get rescued by Russell Checkland, that’s pretty well it for life.’

Kevin was pursuing his own train of thought.

‘We should give her a name.’

‘Dora,’ said Mrs Crisp. ‘Dora the Donkey. That’s pretty.’

‘Or Boomer. That’s a good name for her.’

‘Boomers are kangaroos.’

‘But she booms. It’s like her voice comes down a wind tunnel.’

‘What’s going on here?’ said Russell, bounding in through the mudroom. ‘Why are you all sitting around enjoying yourselves? I don’t pay you to sit around being happy. I want to see you working. Especially if Jenny’s going around inviting any Tom, Dick, or Andrew to lunch. Less happiness. More work. Not you, Jenny. You can sit around if you like.’

‘
Big of him,
’ said Thomas.

No one moved.

‘We’re thinking of a name for the little donkey.’

‘Widdle.’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘How about Tiny? She’s very small.

Kevin’s eyes sparkled. ‘I know. I’ve got the perfect name. Mrs Crisp is right. She is tiny. We can call her …’

He paused for effect.

‘Yes?’

‘Short Ass.’

Chapter Seven

The discussion over what to call her lasted all through lunch. I listened to Russell and Andrew slagging off each other’s choices. Mrs Crisp made an occasional suggestion. After they’d argued themselves to a standstill, I put down my spoon and said, ‘Marilyn.’

They’d moved on to exactly whose fault it was the toilet window had been broken back in the mists of time and it took them a while to refocus.

‘Marilyn,’ I said again. They still stared. I could see I would have to make it easy for them.

‘Marilyn’, I said for the third time. ‘After Marilyn … Monroe. You know, because of that look through her eyelashes.’

‘I’m pretty sure Marilyn Monroe never widdled on anyone,’ said Russell.

‘Yes, but I can see what Jenny’s getting at,’ said Andrew. If she ever had – widdled on someone, I mean – she would have just that look on her face. Good choice, Jenny. Marilyn it is. Is there any crumble left?’

‘No. Don’t you have a home to go to? Where is Tanya anyway? Did she get fed up with you? I said she would, you know.’

‘Gone to London for a couple of days. Back tomorrow night.’

‘Got sick of you, did she?’

‘On the contrary, she’s so overwhelmed by her great good fortune that she needs to get away occasionally, to get her breath back. Of course, she doesn’t put it quite that way, but basically, that’s what she means. Anyway, back to Marilyn. It’s quite simple, Russ. Warm water, barley straw, no new hay. The odd carrot or apple. If she starts getting a roll of fat on her neck then you’re overfeeding her. I’ll have a word with the donkey centre and get you details of their farrier. Her feet are shocking, but I think, with regular trimming and exercise, they’ll improve. You may find she pines for her own kind, but Boxer seems to have imprinted himself on her so keep them together, if you can. I’ll call in tomorrow – for lunch – and a couple of times next week, as well. She’s going to take a bit of work, Russ. Are you sure you’re up for this?’

He nodded.

I asked, ‘Russell, what happens if her owner wants her back?’

‘Well, he can’t have her back. But he won’t. He’ll have the police, the RSPCA, and massive vet’s bills waiting for him. Speaking of which, Andrew, this is more than you just peering at Boxer occasionally and telling me he’s a loony. What do I owe you?’

Andrew shrugged. ‘You’ll have to pay for all her drugs and what-nots, I’m afraid, but give me a good lunch and we’ll forget the rest.’

I smiled at him. He smiled back.

I said, ‘I’ll ask Mrs Crisp to pack you some of her scones, if you like?’

As I went out, I heard him say, ‘So, how’s your face?’

I shut the door behind me.

Mrs Crisp already had a care package ready for him.

‘He’ll be here for lunch again, tomorrow, Mrs Crisp. Does he have a favourite?’

‘He’s a roast beef and Yorkshire boy. I’ll see to it.’

Both Thomas and Kevin were still with Marilyn, I wandered over to have a look and, as I stood watching her, Andrew came in and started packing up his kit.

‘Everything all right?’ he said, quietly.

I couldn’t lie to him so I said nothing.

He fiddled with his case and then said, ‘I have no right to ask this, but if you could stick with him, I’d be quite grateful.’

I had a big lump in my throat.

‘I know it’s not easy. He’s not easy … but you’re his last chance. Don’t let that …’ he suddenly remembered Francesca was my cousin. ‘She doesn’t want him. She just doesn’t want anyone else to have him. It suits her very well to have him on a string and he’s wasting his life. She’s wasting his life. He needs to start painting again and he’s convinced himself he can’t do it without her.’

I nodded.

‘
Told you.
’

He put his hand on my shoulder, ‘And stay away from your aunt. If you need help – come to us. I’ll hide behind the curtains and send Tanya in to bat for you.’

I choked on a laugh.

‘That’s better. See you tomorrow.’

‘Roast beef,’ I said.

He lifted my hand and kissed it.

‘What are you doing?’ said Russell.

‘Roast beef tomorrow.’

‘That’s no excuse. Go away now.’

I went back to look at Marilyn, hardly able to believe the events of the day.

She stood in the middle of her big stall, dwarfed and bewildered. Kevin had put a small pile of straw in the corner for her to sleep on.

‘
Although actually, we could probably just put her in a dog basket.
’

‘Thank you for looking after her.’

‘
No problem. Shame about our day out. And your coat will never be the same again.
’

‘Ah, well.’

She sipped her water and began to hoover up her bedding.

‘
Look at her eat. Should she be doing that?
’

‘Don’t you know?’

‘
I’m a horse.
’

‘Well, that’s nearly a donkey.’

‘
No, it isn’t. Ah, here comes the young master.
’

Russell wasn’t in a good mood. I wasn’t sure what the problem was. He halted, fidgeting. ‘What did Andrew say?’

‘Oh, nothing much. Just asked what was for lunch tomorrow and he’d see us then.’

He scowled and wandered off.

‘
Interesting.
’

‘What is?’

‘
Nothing. Nothing at all.
’

Marilyn recovered like a rocket. She trained us not to leave anything lying around because she ate it. She trained us to satisfy her every demand because otherwise she would close her eyes, screw up her face like a kid having a tantrum, expand her lungs, and exceed the legal decibel limit.

Then just when she had caused maximum exasperation or consternation, she would look up at us through her fringe and smile and we were putty in her hands.

Kevin brushed her carefully – she had some quite nasty sore patches – and she turned out to be a very pretty soft dun colour under all the mud. Her broad head tapered down to a narrow nose and her huge dark eyes peered trustingly out at the world. Her feet were awful, but the farrier said they would improve. He trimmed away and for a few days she could hardly hobble at all. It was pitiful. Andrew shot her some painkillers.

We put her out in the yard for a couple of hours every day. She stuck her head in things that didn’t concern her, tried to eat the washing, was shooed out of the mud room, and pushed her head out through the gate to check out passers-by. One of whom was our neighbour, Martin Braithwaite, walking down to the village one day.

‘Ah,’ he said, enlightened. ‘A donkey! I must tell Monica. She was convinced someone was being chain-sawed.’

‘Sorry about that,’ said Russell, leaning on the gate. ‘Little Big Voice.’

‘I’m on my way for a quiet pint. Care to join me?’

‘Yes,’ said Russell and slipped through the gate. ‘Let me tell you about the trials of donkey owning. You coming, Jenny?’

I shook my head. I had something else to do.

He seemed surprised. ‘Oh. OK then. Is that because Andrew is coming? Again?’

‘Maybe. See you later,’ and I shot off, because I’d just seen Kevin disappearing round the corner and I wanted a word.

Thomas seemed amused. ‘
Oh, Jenny.
’

‘What?’

‘
Nothing.
’

‘What’s nothing?’

‘
Nothing at all. There’s Kevin.
’

‘Hi, Mrs Checkland.’

‘Hello. Are you busy?’

‘I have to turn Boxer out, and then I’m not.’

We led Boxer into his terror-infested field. He bade Marilyn a fond farewell and she went off to see if the water trough had suddenly become edible. Boxer flew off down the field, tail kinked over his back. ‘Shaking the tickles out of his feet,’ Kevin said fondly, watching him go.

I looked at Kevin. He wasn’t the same boy we’d found that night. Even in this short time, he’d filled out. And, thanks to an almost non-stop food intake, he’d grown some more. He was going to be a big lad. With his bruises gone and his smart new haircut, he looked comparatively normal – for someone living someone at Frogmorton, I mean.

He was still very quiet, still unsure of himself and us, almost as if he was afraid to relax in case he was kicked out again. He was so pathetically eager it was heart-breaking. He threw himself at everything, desperate for acceptance and approval. He kept his little room spotless, as I noticed when I took him clean sheets. Russell said he wouldn’t – shouldn’t – stay for ever, but we could offer him a breathing space while he worked out what to do with his life.

It often amazed me that Russell could be so perceptive in some areas and so bloody stupid in others.

Anyway, this morning, I was a woman on a mission.

‘Kevin,’ I said when he joined me again. ‘What do you know about gardening?’

He hesitated. I could see he wanted to say, ‘Lots,’ because that was the answer I wanted, but he was an honest lad.

‘Nothing.’

‘Me neither. Come with me.’

We let ourselves through the wonky garden door and into the walled jungle I could see from the living room. There were no leaves at this time of year, but some bulbs were beginning to poke through the tangled undergrowth. Overgrown was not the word to describe it.

‘
No,
’ said Thomas. ‘
It passed overgrown about ten years ago. Are you insane? This is a lifetime’s work.
’

‘Exactly,’ I said, nodding towards Kevin who was extricating himself from something thorny.

‘
Ah, I see.
’

We worked our way up to one of the French windows and turned back to survey the garden. It was a bit daunting. I seriously wondered about getting some people in – one of those motorway gangs would be my first choice, together with half a dozen JCBs and a good supply of Agent Orange. But no, that wasn’t the point.

Kevin was kicking his foot into the ground. ‘There’s stone under here. Probably some sort of terrace that would have run along the back of the house and probably there would be sets of steps. Yes, look,’ ripping away something dead and brown. ‘There’s a bit of stone balustrade here, underneath all this – stuff. And I think these – ouch – yes, there’s roses growing – ouch – round the doors. Ow! Aren’t they supposed to be pruned? I’m sure my dad … Ouch!’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Find … gardening tools and stuff. And something thick to wear. Meet here in ten minutes.’

He disappeared and I went to look up rose-pruning on the Internet.

When he reappeared with a wheelbarrow stuffed full of dangerous and unfamiliar implements, I spread three sheets of paper on the ground and we studied them carefully.

‘Well, these are either climbers or ramblers,’ he said slowly. ‘We should be looking for outward facing buds. Oh, look, there’s one. And take out the dead wood. No, don’t put your arm in there, Mrs Checkland, I’ll do it.

We made a start. We were a little tentative at first, and then got bolder. Huge swathes of prickly stems fell down on our heads.

Thomas retreated to a safe distance. ‘
I can see why princesses surround themselves with this stuff,
’ he said. ‘
Except in this instance, it’s the princess herself hacking down the brambles.
’

We kept at it and, after half an hour, we reckoned we could get the door open. I ran round the house into the living room and fumbled with the key. It wouldn’t move. Kevin mouthed something at me and disappeared, reappearing behind me with a can of something a few minutes later and frightening me to death.

We squirted, he strained, we squirted again, the key turned, and the door opened. We cheered. You had to be there.

We walked in and out half a dozen times, just because we could.

‘Shall we do the next one?’ he asked and I nodded.

Another half an hour and there was ten times more rose bush lying on the ground than growing up the walls. Kevin started pitchforking it into the wheelbarrow.

‘Now,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘We need a bonfire.’

I was enthusiastic too. I’d never had a bonfire before.

We lugged it all round the back to the old buildings where Russell parked his Land Rover. Within minutes, it was crackling merrily away, enveloping us in clouds of smoke.

We fought our way out, coughing and waving our arms. I stared at him. He was grimy, mud-streaked, leaking blood from half a dozen not-very-serious scratches, and reeked of wood smoke.

‘
He’s not the only one. The two of you look like prisoners on a chain gang.
’

Mrs Crisp appeared.

‘Mrs Kingdom is here to see you.’

‘
Oh,
’ said Thomas.

‘And Miss Kingdom as well.’

‘
Oh, shit,
’ said Thomas.

My happy afternoon vanished into the smoke of the bonfire. I could only stare at her. What? Where? Aunt Julia here? Now?

Kevin melted away.

She was sympathetic. ‘I’m sorry, but they’ve already seen you from the road. They know you’re here.’

First things first. ‘Where’s Russell?’

‘Still in the village.’

This was Mrs Crisp speak for ‘Still in the pub.’ I didn’t want to face them alone, but if he came back plastered then he could be a bit of a double-edged weapon.

‘
You’re not alone,
’ said Thomas. ‘
Now wash your face and hands, give them a quick cup of tea, and get rid of them before he gets back.
’

‘Francesca is here. What does she want?’

‘
Well, at a rough guess she wants the master of the house to see what he’s missing. Come on.
’

I followed Mrs Crisp back through the mudroom.

‘They’re in the living room, Mrs Checkland,’ she said, gesturing. ‘I’ll bring in some tea.’

I washed my hands under the tap, wiped them on my jeans, and, wishing I had the firm tread of the acknowledged lady of the house, tiptoed into the living room.

They sat side by side on the sofa. Aunt Julia was wearing her ‘Maybe if I don’t touch anything then I won’t catch anything,’ expression. Francesca was dressed for country visiting with her hair piled casually on top of her head and tumbling carelessly down her back. She wore a close-fitting black top, skinny jeans, and killer heels.

I was wearing half a rose bush, a little mud across one cheekbone, and essence of wood-smoke. I’d kicked off my wellies and my socks were odd.