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Second Chances at the Little Village Sanctuary

Page 4

by Ella Cook

As if agreeing with her thoughts, Ernie kicked the fence post a couple of times, braying loudly before starting to hee and haw in the rudest and most impatient possible donkey manner.

‘All right, all right, your majesty. I’m coming. Give your poor serf a few extra moments to allow for my injury.’ She sighed, as snorting whistles were added to the donkey complaints.

‘I’m working on only one good leg here, it’s not exactly easy. You know, in some countries, donkeys are used as pack animals to carry great weights across huge mountains, sometimes they even carry people. Maybe you could come and fetch your own snacks? No, I didn’t think so.’ She heaved herself and the bag the last few yards, once again cursing the idiot who smashed into the village café and broke her leg into more pieces than humpty dumpty after his great fall.

She tried to remind herself that she should be grateful — that things could have easily been much, much worse — after all, she’d been hit by a car and had half a building collapse on top of her. And she was grateful, to Dr Liv who had crawled into the wrecked building and stopped her going into shock or bleeding all over the floor before the paramedics and fire brigade could get her and her mum safely out. Along with the little girl her mum had been babysitting. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still angry that it had happened, and irritable from the amount of pain she was in daily.

And as much as she agreed with Evelyn that she needed help — especially when it came to managing her bigger residents like Ernie and his girls, she really was not happy about having the drunken idiot who caused the accident anywhere near her, or her animals. The more she thought about it the more she seethed. The anger gave her the strength to drag the bag the rest of the way across the courtyard and heave it over the fence for the ungrateful four.

‘Impressive.’

‘Thanks.’ She scratched Ernie’s ears, who whuffled at her before sticking his face back into the pile of hay. ‘What can I do for you, Sergeant Brown? I’m assuming this is an official visit as you’re in uniform. I really hope it’s just a rescue, and not another animal cruelty case. I can’t bear those, and I’m fast reaching my limit for today.’

‘No. No animals in trouble at all, so Harry is fine today. Though I am here on official business.’

‘Oh?’

‘Wanted to introduce myself to your new . . . volunteer. Along with his parole officer, I’ll be supervising him while he’s here.’ He stopped and peered at his watch. ‘If he ever turns up, that is.’

‘Yeah, not exactly the best first impression. Or second.’

‘No, not really.’ Harry leaned in to rub one of the donkey’s ears. He snatched his hand back with a scowl as a set of yellowing teeth snapped sharply closed. ‘Hey, that’s assaulting an officer of the law Mr Donkey!’

‘Not a Mr.’ Angela laughed. ‘That’s Poppy. And she doesn’t mean any harm, she’s just nervous. A bit like me.’

‘Oh?’

‘This community service payback thing. Having that person here, around the animals. Around me . . . I think I might hate him, Harry.’

‘I don’t blame you for that. But part of his court-ordered rehabilitation is to give back to the community he damaged. And the village council decided at least part of that should be given to you and your animals.’ Harry gently took the bag from her and offered his arm. ‘Lean on me. Should you even be without your crutches yet?’

‘Probably not,’ Angela admitted. ‘But this place won’t run itself, any more than Ernie will fetch his own food or clean his own shed.’

‘Which is exactly why you’re getting the enforced volunteer support.’

Enforced on who, Angela wondered. ‘If he ever turns up.’

‘Oh, he’ll turn up.’ Harry’s smile darkened. ‘Because if he doesn’t, he’ll be back in handcuffs.’

* * *

He peered into his selfie camera and tweaked one of the curls in his fringe to flop in a slightly different direction, before popping a couple of painkillers. Still watching himself in the shiny, expensive phone, he settled his shades back on his nose.

He hadn’t made it to bed until nearly dawn, and when Yvette woke him by slipping beneath the covers — to do what she did best — he couldn’t have been so rude as to refuse her, so he was late arriving. But he wasn’t worried. He already knew what this sanctuary manager would be like: some crusty, middle-aged, do-gooder who probably lived in handmade cardigans — and not the luxury, organic cotton and silk ones he imported specially for when he wasn’t in sponsored gear. No, hers would doubtless be some shapeless beige bag with tissues stuck up the sleeves. And maybe a cat or two. Even her name, Miss Turner, made her sound like a dinner lady. In fact, he was sure one of his school dinner ladies had been called exactly that.

He’d flash her the Smile, impress her by lifting a few heavy things and maybe do a few reels for the socials to get her some more online exposure, and she’d be so grateful that she’d let him off early. It would be easy.

‘We’re here, mate.’ The car rolled to a stop.

‘Are you sure?’ The pretty stone cottage, while totally Instagrammable, wasn’t exactly what he thought an animal sanctuary would look like. If he’d ever bothered to think about what they should look like. But weren’t they supposed to have long, winding driveways or be on farms or something? He was sure he’d seen that in a film.

‘It’s the address you gave me. You getting out, or you want to go somewhere else?’

He checked the address on his phone. ‘Nope, I guess it’s round here somewhere.’ He tapped in a tip and waved his phone over the payment reader.

‘Thanks.’

Rick walked up and down the pretty street a few times, stopping to pose for selfies outside a couple of the chocolate-box cottages. It would have made a brilliant film set for some cutesy series, the type where the women were all long dresses, boobs and bonnets. He was so busy making sure his followers had something to follow that it took him nearly another twenty minutes to spot a small sign on the gate of a cottage in the furthest corner of the street. He bent down to take a quick snap of the carved badger that read Bill’s Sanctuary, before flicking the phone back into video mode.