The Beast of Bracksley Woods (3 page)

Later that night as Debbie sat in her comfortable sitting room with central heating warming the place and a warm meal inside her she watched Trigger as he explored his new surroundings. He had been fed and Debbie had found a makeshift bed for him. He seemed to be perfectly at ease while Debbie pondered the information her search on dog rearing had produced from the computer. Of course, she would have to visit Mr Turner again to confirm her findings and also to find out how long he was likely to stay in hospital. At least she thought, he had said that the RSPCA man would be back in about a week. She hoped this would be so because she still needed to look for work and should she be offered a position, she feared having to leave a young puppy alone all day. Clearly, she would have to make the acquaintance of Kevin as soon as possible. Until then, she would just have to do the best she could for her charge.

Having searched the room thoroughly Trigger planted himself in front of the gas fire and stretching out to his full length prepared to sleep his supper off. Debbie studied her notes carefully. Comparing pictures of various breeds she came to the conclusion that Trigger must be a golden retriever. Her notes told her that this breed would need quite a lot of exercise. Well, that was out for the time being. Lengthy walks in the country would not be possible until the snow had cleared. For one thing, she wasn’t about to break her leg sliding on ice. Oh no! Trigger would have to wait for the dubious pleasure, of getting his paws wet because she wasn’t prepared to brave the elements just yet. Living in the country might be some people‘s idea of leading an idyllic lifestyle next to Mother Nature but country life took on a more challenging aspect in bad weather and Debbie was not quite sure she was up to it.

Debbie woke the next morning to a snowbound landscape. The village looked like a picture on a Christmas card. Perhaps she would take a photograph of it and send it to Chris just to let her know she was enjoying country life. As she stood gazing through the window in her sitting room she decided it would be far too dangerous to allow Trigger out to exercise. By the looks of things walking would be nearly impossible and a visit to the hospital, as she had intended today would just have to wait. Instead, she would busy herself on chores and catching up with letter writing, something she had neglected since settling in Bracksley.

In fact, it was three days before Debbie was able to get her car out to go into Bedford to do some much-needed shopping. The trip would also give her an opportunity to pop into the hospital to see how Greg Turner was getting on. Not wanting to leave Trigger on his own in case he chewed the place up, she installed him on a blanket on the back seat. The day before, Debbie busied herself making a few biscuits and a few small appetising cakes. All the way into Bedford Trigger showed intense interest in all the passing traffic and passers-by. Debbie smiled at the little grumbled growls coming from the back seat every time they passed a dog being walked by the owner. She jumped at Trigger’s furious barking as they passed workmen cleaning the roads from snow and ice. She congratulated herself on how well Trigger had settled down. Really, there was nothing to this dog training which she thought was going to be so difficult. Still, she had to admit that Greg had a head start on her for obedience. He had certainly taught Trigger well. He followed her everywhere in the cottage, asking to go out when necessary and never attempted to run off, neither had he attempted to chew anything, thank heaven Debbie thought. She had become quite fond of him in such a short time. She wondered why she had never thought about keeping a dog before now. It might have been difficult with having to travel so much with Mike, she considered. She was wiser not to have got involved with animals in those days, the trouble with always being on the move or alternatively finding someone to look after pets while you are away would have created far too many problems for her. Ah well! Things are much different now, she reflected.

Locking Trigger in the car Debbie made her way to the ward. On entering she found Greg looking much better. He was so pleased with her little offering of cakes and biscuits and said he would share them with his fellow patients. Debbie had also picked him up a magazine or two although she had no idea of his taste. Never mind, Greg had been very grateful. He told her that he expected to remain in hospital for a few days more. He was having physiotherapy to help his leg although arm and leg would remain in plaster for about eight weeks. “I don’t really know how I am going to manage,” he said looking worried. I won’t be able to get around very well. I shall have to get extra help in.”

“Do you know what kind of help you may be needing?” Debbie asked. “I would gladly help with minor things like shopping or making sure you get a hot meal at least once a day.”

“That is more than generous of you since we only made acquaintance recently. I don’t want you to feel under any obligation to me. You saved my life and I shall be eternally grateful to you my dear. I feel I shall never be out of your debt until the day I leave this earth.”

“Don’t be silly. I only did what anyone else would have done. I am so glad to hear how well you are getting on. Just let me know when you will be discharged and we will take it from there. I am not working at the moment so I am free to give you as much help as you need.”

Greg’s hand came out to cover hers and he gave it a little squeeze in genuine gratitude.

“How are you getting on with Trigger?” he asked after a small pause.

“Trigger is fine. He is downstairs in the car park asleep on the back seat of the car,” She said sincerely hoping that he was.

“Well, that’s one load off my mind. Kevin should be back soon and I am sure he will look after Trigger for me if you feel that you can’t look after him forever.”

After assuring Greg that she didn’t mind looking after his dog one bit. He was such a good little chap, Debbie got up to go.

“Before you go my dear, May I lean on your generosity a little more and ask yet another favour. Could you collect one or two items from the farm for me? I took the liberty of writing them down with instructions where to find the various things. Perhaps you could bring them in tomorrow if you are not too busy with other things.”

“Yes, of course I will.” Debbie took the list and said goodbye assuring him she would be back tomorrow.

True to her word, Debbie went back to the farm the next day and following Greg’s instructions she picked up the items he had asked for. Later that day she took them into the hospital. She found Mr Turner looking much better and cheerfully enjoying a game of cards with a fellow patient this time. The minute he saw her he put the cards down and waved. He looked so pleased with himself that Debbie felt no shyness or embarrassment. She felt now that she knew Greg a little better she could ask a few questions where Trigger was concerned. “Excuse me for asking,” she ventured shyly, “But what breed is Trigger? How old is he? Oh, and by the way, I have left food and water out for your cats. There seem to be about three as far as I could tell. They are perfectly alright though,” she added in case the old gentleman was worried they were being neglected.”

“Trigger is nine months old and he is a cross with a labrador and golden retriever. He may appear to be a little angel but he can be a little devil at times so be on your guard. The cats are farm cats, there to catch mice and anything else that shouldn’t be there,” Greg answered cheerfully. It won’t be long now before I am back at home so don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything,” he added.

“Yes, I realise that but have you given much thought as to how you will manage when you do come home. If you like, I could make some enquiries for you and find someone to fix you up with meals and so on,” Debbie offered cautiously.” You have to be so careful with some old people in case they take offense, she told herself.

“My dear young lady, you have been so good to me I hesitate to make a suggestion. I had an idea. Please don’t be afraid to say no if you don’t agree. I wondered if you would take pity on an old man and consent to become my housekeeper. It would relieve me of such a lot of worry to have someone about the place while I am unable to do much. Needless to say, I would appreciate it so much if you would agree to look after me. I sincerely hope you don’t think I am being terribly forward in asking but I feel that we would get on splendidly together. Why not give it a little thought. I am sure we could come to a financial understanding without too much haggling. Of course, I certainly don’t expect you to accept my proposal on the spur of the moment. You take all the time in the world to come back and give me your answer. It would warm my old heart to have such a pretty young lady looking after me.” He gave her such a lovely smile that Debbie nearly agreed there and then but luckily thought better of it and bit her tongue and agreed to go away and talk about it again when they had a date for his homecoming. Not knowing what to say further, she made her goodbyes trying not to appear too eager to get away.

When she finally got back home and had a chance to think things over, Debbie chided herself once again for being too impulsive. Had she given Greg the impression that she could be called upon for the odd errand? Was she such a pushover? Debbie had to admit that she was becoming more and more fond of the old boy every time she visited him. In fact, she reflected, she did not seem able to keep away from the hospital, she felt drawn to it like a magnet. Perhaps it was that every time she entered that ward she expected to find Mike lying in one of the beds. She must stop feeling so paranoid, she told herself, it certainly wasn’t good for her. Still, she would have a serious think about Greg’s offer. She couldn’t sit here moping for the rest of her life, perhaps she really wanted to feel needed. It was true, she badly needed a job and it was right on the doorstep.

Debbie heard the post drop onto the floor from where she was enjoying a cup of coffee in the warmth of the sitting room. She got up reluctantly and went out into the hall. She was just in time to rescue an official looking envelope from the Jaws of Trigger who had scooted into the kitchen with it. The envelope had got quite wet and Debbie had to be careful in opening it. As soon as she saw who it was from she knew instinctively that she had not been successful in her application to Pickering’s tasty teatime treats. Ah well, that’s that. Who needs him, she thought screwing the letter up and throwing it in the waste bin. It looks as though I shall have to take Greg Turner up on his offer, she told herself. The job would fill a gap until she made up her mind how to go about achieving what she really wanted to do. Debbie was so engrossed in what she was thinking that she failed to notice what Trigger was up to. The minute she turned her back on him, Trigger had retrieved the letter and half the contents of the rubbish bin and was now happily chewing his way through packages wrappers and odd pieces of paper. In a very short time the kitchen was strewn with rubbish which Trigger was ripping to pieces.

Debbie shouted at him furiously. “You naughty dog. Look at the mess you are making.” Trigger looked up at her and winked. Debbie couldn’t help smiling but changed her mind immediately as she saw Trigger once again heading towards the waste bin, this time intent on finishing the job by pulling any remaining rubbish from the bin and making a meal of that also. Debbie’s shout of horror caught Trigger’s attention for a moment. He changed his mind about the bin but instead, he picked up a box which had contained a TV dinner. He pranced round the room with it gleefully showing Debbie what he had found. She went to grab the box out of his mouth but Trigger thought this was enormous fun and charged about like a demon knocking into chairs and anything else that happened to be in the way. Debbie tried catching him which only resulted with Trigger dashing through the sitting room where she had left her shoes. Trigger dropped the box and grabbed one of her shoes as he danced his way through to the hall and tore upstairs. Debbie gave chase. By the time she reached her bedroom Trigger had gone to ground wedging himself firmly under the bed where he commenced to destroy her shoe letting out a series of fearsome growls as he killed his prey.

Debbie retreated downstairs to wait until Trigger put in an appearance. She felt cross and frustrated. Trigger had given the impression of being a well behaved dog but now he seemed to be showing his true colours. Greg turner had led her to believe his dog had been trained. Judging from Trigger’s recent behaviour, this was not the case. She would have to ask Greg how she was supposed to correct him. Actually, she had intended to pay him a visit at the hospital this afternoon but first she would take that little monster upstairs for a walk which may calm him down a bit. To while away the time Debbie decided to make a few small cakes to take with her when she visited. She couldn’t very well take fruit or flowers because she hadn’t been able to get out much. Anyway, she was sure her little offerings would be appreciated just as much. When Trigger eventually crept down stairs and curled up in front of the fire as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, Debbie gave him a piece of her mind just to relieve her frustration

The air was bracing as she headed towards the small shop for one or two necessary purchases. Trigger behaved well walking on the lead as though he had never done a thing wrong in his life. Having chatted to Mrs Harrison who informed her that young Jimmy Fox was off to the hospital today to have the plaster taken off his ankle which had been broken during a school football match and old Mrs Carter had waited for her carer to come and get her up for so long she had tried to do for herself and had a fall. Mrs Brown, who lived next door was trying to give her as much help as she could but it wasn’t easy when you had young children to look after. Mrs Harrison was a very pleasant lady and seemed to know everything that went on in the village. This was how village life should be, Debbie thought. If you need to know anything, just go to the village shop and you were sure to get an answer. Debbie smiled to herself as she headed toward Broadmead Farm to collect Greg’s post for him.