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‘I know of him.' Frank used to live in a mobile home on a site next to the industrial estate on the edge of Talyton St George, and he's been in and out of prison for various reasons. I made some antenatal and postnatal visits to a flat in Talymouth a few months ago, to Frank's elder son's girlfriend, who had a baby girl by C-section. Frank came to visit them, bearing armfuls of gifts. ‘He didn't give me the impression he was a bad man.' In fact, I can hardly reconcile the image I have of the adoring granddad with a man who could starve and then abandon a dog like Frosty. I wasn't so sure about the son when I met him – he seemed as if he could have another side to him. ‘So what happens next?' I continue. ‘How long will Frosty stay here?'

‘If she continues to improve as she is, she can go in three or four days – after the weekend, anyway.'

‘Can I come in and see her again? I'll pay the bill, too.'

‘Oh, you don't have to do that. Talyton Animal Rescue will fund her treatment – we charge cost price for waifs and strays. They'd appreciate a donation though, I'm sure. And you can drop by whenever you like, as long as you let us know when you're coming.'

I thank Maz and Jack and say one last goodbye to Frosty before I head off for work, picking up my car to visit Chloe who lives in a barn conversion near the Old Forge in Talyford. She's a high-flying lawyer and probably the most anxious first-time mum I've ever met. She opens the door to me in a blouse and pyjama bottoms. Her dark hair is long and lank, and I don't think she can have had a shower since she came out of hospital four days ago.

‘Hello, Zara. I'm so relieved to see you – I'm very worried about Joshua. He's crying all the time – I don't think he's getting enough milk.'

I pause to listen, but I can't hear anything apart from the murmur of a radio somewhere in the house.

‘Come in,' she goes on, and we chat over coffee and biscuits in the open-plan living area. I look out through the long windows at a herd of black and white cows at the end of the garden, and the Devon countryside beyond, while Joshua snores quietly in his Moses basket.

‘How are you?' I ask eventually.- ‘How do you feel?'

‘Exhausted,' she says flatly. I notice how she's chosen the chair facing away from the baby, as if she wants to ignore his existence. She continues, ‘I didn't realise how hard this would be. I thought criminal law was challenging, but I find myself dreaming of being back in court, defending thugs and murderers.'

‘Are you eating and drinking plenty? Does the baby latch onto the breast? Do you have any pain, cracked nipples or red patches?'

She shakes her head in answer to all my questions.

‘Let's wake Joshua up and have a look at him.'

‘Do we have to?' Chloe looks pale already, but her complexion blanches further at the suggestion.

‘Yes, we do,' I say, in the positive, no-nonsense tone I adopt for these situations. ‘Now, you pick him up and show me how you feed him.'

Chloe moves slowly across the room – she's had stitches – picks the baby up and shuffles back to the sofa, where she sits down, opens her blouse and cuddles the baby to her breast. He doesn't cry once throughout my visit. When he wakes, he opens his eyes, and looks around for a minute, his head wobbling about as his mum tries to support it.

‘I'm afraid he'll hurt his neck,' she says, her voice wavering.

‘Babies are pretty tough little things.' Chloe has lost her confidence since the birth. She wasn't like this at her antenatal checks, when she was excited and looking forward to being a mum. ‘That's it. He's got it. He's latching on now and sucking.'

‘But is he getting enough?' she wails. ‘How do I know?' She glares down at her breasts. ‘Why don't these things come with some kind of gauge?'

‘You can tell because he's thriving. Look at those chubby cheeks.' I pause. ‘Is Dominic taking paternity leave?'

‘He's had to go back to work and my mum's gone home to Leicester. Dom doesn't like her staying with us.'

‘That's a shame. Have you been out with your baby yet?'

‘I thought I'd give it a couple of weeks yet. I'm not sure I can face getting everything together.'

‘I'm going to ask Dr Mackie to visit you,' I decide. ‘He can check on Joshua – that might help to put your mind at rest.'

‘He came to see us two days ago.'

‘I think he should come again. Ben can have a chat with you at the same time and then we can assess what help you might need.' I smile encouragingly, but she doesn't smile back. She's going to require a lot of support to get through what should be one of the happiest times of her life. Emily has the baby blues, whereas Chloe seems to be sinking into full-blown postnatal depression.

Back in the car, I call Ben and arrange for him to add her to his list of house calls for the afternoon before I go to Celine's to carry out a stretch and sweep in an attempt to induce labour.

‘This baby is going to be overcooked by the time it makes an appearance,' Celine says ruefully. ‘And my sister will be back from her bloody honeymoon,' she adds.

Blonde, with hair extensions, false nail and eyelashes, and a well-practised pout, Celine could have walked straight out of
TOWIE
– she even has the Essex accent, having moved to Devon a few years before with her husband, who works as a sales team leader for a company in Exeter.

They live on the new estate in a detached house that's been extended and revamped with the latest appliances, home cinema and hot tub, and every room
has been painted in a different colour, every wall in a different shade, so it feels like a Dulux catalogue; but it's the kind of home that's always filled with the sound of laughter and children's voices – Celine's and other people's – and the scent of coffee and baking. Today I can smell cold curry too.

Celine shows me past the oil painting in the hall of her and her husband, who bears a passing resemblance to Keith Lemon, gazing into each other's eyes against the dramatic backdrop of dark skies and a stately home.

‘I'm so glad you're here. Mum's here with the kids so we can go upstairs and you can get on with what you have to do.' Celine looks at my trolley bag. ‘What's all that for?'

‘Sometimes it's more comfortable if you have some gas and air for this procedure.'

She grimaces. ‘I don't want it if it's going to hurt.'

‘I thought you wanted to go to the wedding.'

‘I do. Oh, all right. Let's get this over with.' I follow her up the stairs. ‘We tried the curry and the you-know-what. We could hardly get it on for laughing. Ray said it was like having sex with a giant space hopper, even down to the colour. Look at me. I'm orange – something's gone wrong with the fake tan.' Soon Celine is roaring with laughter and I'm surprised her waters don't pop spontaneously. As it is, I have to do it for her.

‘What happens next?' she says as she takes one last puff on the gas and air.

‘We wait.'

It turns out that we don't have to wait for long. I
return with Kelly to check on Celine a few hours later and she's well on the way. Her baby boy is born at midnight.

I get to bed by two and I'm up again at six to help with the papers. After a morning in the shop, I check up on Frosty, who has made such a miraculous recovery from her ordeal that Maz wants to send her to the rescue centre on Monday. I volunteer to take Frosty there myself. Maz seems so pleased to have one thing less to arrange that I can't back out when I reconsider a couple of seconds later.

Next, I decide to go and see Emily at the farm. She's Seemed a bit down the last couple of times I've spoken to her on the phone, and I'm worried that looking after Poppy – who has an increasing aversion to her baby sister – is too much for her.

‘Isn't Murray about?' I say when I find her sitting in the living room in front of some television cookery show, with Daisy crying in the Moses basket and Poppy thumping around in a strop about running out of her favourite biscuits.

‘He's working today.'

‘Why don't we go out somewhere?'

‘I'm not sure I can be bothered. It's a lovely offer, but it's a nightmare getting everyone ready.'

‘I think it will cheer everyone up.' I look out at the rain. ‘The weather's lousy and you're stuck indoors when we could be having cake or ice cream at the garden centre.'

‘Can we, Auntie Zara?' says Poppy, immediately pricking up her ears. ‘Can we have chocolate cake?'

‘I expect so,' I smile. ‘Why don't you find your coat and hat while I get Daisy ready? Emily, go and brush your hair. You look like you forgot this morning.'

‘OMG, I did. I'm not sure I cleaned my teeth either.'

‘Naughty Mummy,' Poppy scolds.

‘Go on, both of you.' I pick Daisy out of the Moses basket, check her nappy and choose a knitted hat from the stack of woolly items that Gran, Murray's mother and the WI have presented to the baby since her arrival. ‘What do you think of that one, niece-let?' I say lightly as Daisy continues to whimper, staring at me slightly boss-eyed. ‘You remember me.' I slip the hat onto her head – it's bright pink and yellow – before holding her close and rocking her gently as I sing a rendition of ‘If You Don't Know Me By Now . . .'

When I look up, I find Emily and Poppy and, worst of all, Lewis, huddled together in the doorway, laughing.

‘I'm sorry to say that you aren't through to the next round/my sister says.

‘I disagree,' Lewis cuts in. ‘In my opinion, Zara definitely has the X Factor.'

‘So you'd put her through to boot camp, if only to give her the opportunity to learn to sing,' Emily jokes.

‘Daisy likes it,' I point out, blushing. ‘Look, she's stopped crying.'

‘We're just off for a coffee,' Emily says. ‘What was it you wanted, Lewis?'

‘I saw Zara's car. I wanted to say hi, and well done for rescuing that dog.'

‘You heard?'

‘Emily told me. Your gran mentioned it too when I went into the shop.'

‘Gran said you'd been in,' I say, and then it occurs to me that this could be divine intervention, a chance to spend some time alone with him. ‘Look, I know it's a bit of a cheek and you have lots of other things to do, and I'm not sure your boss –' I glance towards Emily –' will let you have the time off, but I offered to take the dog to the rescue centre on Monday.'

‘You did what?' Emily exclaims. ‘You're scared of dogs.'

‘Thanks to Lewis, I feel a bit better about them.'

I notice how Emily raises one eyebrow. I'm not going to hear the end of this. She'll tease me without mercy.

‘I was surprised when I heard you'd taken a dog to the vet by yourself,' Lewis says.

‘I couldn't leave her there, could I?'

‘I'm impressed.'

‘It wasn't as hard as it sounds. I remembered Mick and how sweet he was, and saw how scared she was and how she was depending on me.' I pause. ‘Anyway, Maz mentioned that they were really too busy to spare a member of staff to take the dog to the Sanctuary, so I kind of found myself offering. I feel responsible for her in a way, and I'd like to make sure she's okay, but she's rather lively now and I'm not sure I'll manage her.'

‘I'll come with you,' Lewis says.

‘Have you run that past your boss?' Emily interrupts.

‘Well,no . . .'

‘Don't look so worried. I'm sure Murray can spare you for a couple of hours.'

‘Thanks, Emily. I'll drive, Zara. You can't possibly put a dog in the boot of your car with all your medical gear.'

‘I was going to put her on the back seat.'

‘She won't stay there, will she? You'd have to buy a travel harness. No, I'll take you.' Lewis gazes at me with a hint of mischief in his eyes and I blush again – furiously. ‘I'll pick you up from yours on Monday – you say a time.'

‘Nine thirty?'

‘That's good for me. I'll see you then. Cheers everyone.'

‘Bye-bye, Lewis,' Poppy says. ‘Can I feed the lambs?'

‘Perhaps when you get back if your mummy says it's okay.'

‘It is,' Emily says, turning to me as Lewis heads back out to the yard, climbs up into the tractor and drives away through the driving rain. ‘Larry has company. We have four orphan and rejected lambs now.' She grins. ‘You didn't have to go to the trouble of rescuing an abandoned dog as an excuse to spend time with our shepherd.'

‘I know.' I grin back at her. ‘Let's go.'

I take Emily and the two girls to the garden centre on Stoney Lane. To Poppy it's like a treasure chest filled with all kinds of desirable items, from windmills on sticks to jolly red-faced gnomes who look as if they've been on the beer, to gaudy plastic ladybirds and frogs with solar lamps embedded in their heads, making them look like amphibious miners.

‘I never thought I'd say this about Fifi's garden
centre, but I love it,' Emily says, choosing a pair of floral gardening gloves. ‘Thanks for thinking of us and taking us out.'

I feel slightly guilty having been so consumed with my life – work and the shop – that I haven't made much time recently for my sister.

‘Let's have coffee. Would you like to choose a piece of cake? Or ice cream?' I ask, trying to extricate a bright yellow plastic sunflower from Poppy's sticky grasp.

‘I want it.' She stamps one foot to emphasise exactly how much.

‘I think you should leave it with the others,' Emily says.

‘Nooo!'

‘There's only one left on the display – it will be lonely. We don't want that, do we?' I say, squatting down beside her.

‘Oh?' she says. It's a tense moment as we – not just me and Emily, but everyone else in the garden centre – wait to see if she's going to explode again.