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‘It’s nature.’ She’d shrugged and moved onto cleaning down the preparation area. ‘It’s not as if I’m the one who killed them. I don’t like it, but critters need to eat.’

By the time they’d fed the rabbits, the mice, the hedgehogs, two squirrels, the goose missing feathers down one wing, and the barn owl, Rick had had more than enough. He hadn’t prepared so many vegetables since the last time he was on a juice cleanse. And after the ferret and owl food . . . yuck, he might not eat for another week.

‘Are we done now?’ he asked hopefully as he wiped the last chopping board and handed it to her.

‘Nearly, just the donkeys and goats to go.’

“Just” turned out to mean lugging over a large bag of surprisingly heavy feed to the impatient, noisy gang who hollered and stamped — letting him know in no uncertain terms that they thought he was too slow. He was hungry, smelly and really regretting his late night. His head thumped and span with random nonsense thoughts — as he tried to empty the bag into the feeding trough, he could imagine the donkey’s huffing and wickers as laughter at the slow, clumsy new guy in his grubby trousers and stained shoes.

‘That’s it.’ Angela, who had been supervising his every move, closed the barn door.

‘And you do this every day?’ Rick was impressed.

‘They need feeding every day, so yes. Twice a day for most of the guests, with a full clean through of all habitats in the morning. Is there any chance I might see you before tomorrow morning becomes the afternoon?’

‘Ah, yeah.’ He felt slightly sheepish. He was well aware he needed Angela to confirm his hours, and report back favourably to the probation office, so he did his best to apologise — and mean it. ‘I’m sorry about that. Didn’t get home until late last night — or rather this morning. Overslept.’

‘Who goes out on a Tuesday night?’

‘Someone being paid to show up.’ His tiredness, and the thumping in his head, made him more honest than he would usually be. While sponsored appearances weren’t exactly a secret, he usually tried to be more discreet than that.

‘You get paid to go clubbing? By who?’

‘Clubs. Promoters.’ He saw the look on her face and tried to explain. ‘I chat about my plans online, take a few pics and vids of me in the club, add a few tags, and it means more people want to pay to be there.’

‘And you really get paid for that?’

‘Yeah. Pretty well.’

‘Wow. You really do live in a different world.’

‘Yup.’ He grinned cheerfully, thinking how awesome his life really was. It wasn’t until a few hours later when he was eating dinner — in an exclusive new restaurant, natch — that it occurred to him Angela hadn’t exactly agreed with him. And now that he thought about it, she hadn’t sounded all that impressed when she’d said it.

But he shrugged it off, pasted on his toothpaste-advert-worthy smile and flashed it around the place.

* * *

Angela shoved away her miserable microwave meal and tugged her blanket over her knees. She wasn’t cold, exactly, but she liked the comfort and warmth it gave her. And it would offer some protection if Ruby, or one of the cats, wanted to snuggle with her later. The newest kittens hadn’t exactly learned that their claws were supposed to stay in when they were playing.

She was so tired and aching that all she wanted to do was curl up in bed, but her brain was racing and it would keep her awake if she tried to sleep now. She couldn’t wait until she was properly back on her feet. She wouldn’t have thought the partial, temporary loss of one leg would have made almost every job feel like it took twice as much energy. That just didn’t add up in her mind.

Even the administration side of the charity — which she hated — seemed to take more effort, because of the effort it took to get into a comfortable position where her leg wasn’t complaining. Or her arms would ache from using the crutches all day. She certainly had a deeper respect for the amputee animals she had worked with in the past — and her injury would heal!

She didn’t want to look at her admin tasks — then she’d end up looking at bank accounts, and they weren’t going to make happy reading. She really needed to get the business side of things back up and running. Jake and her volunteers had done their best keeping things going while she’d been in hospital and off her feet — and she was beyond grateful that her animals had been looked after — but she needed to crack on with arranging more fundraising, and sorting things like the Donkey Supported Activities, which she’d been forced to temporarily cancel. In order to get that all reinvigorated and running again, she was going to need more help. Which brought her back to her latest problem: Rick.

Rather than think about that, Angela unlocked her phone and dialled her mum.

‘Hello, darling, how are you?’

‘I’m OK.’ Angela tucked her feet up onto the couch — mindful of her knee and leg.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah. Just tired.’

‘You’re not working too hard are you?’

‘No more so than usual.’ Angela didn’t want to worry her mum. ‘How’s the seaside?’