Kitty's Countryside Dream (6 page)

Both bidders were now against each other.

‘Going, going …'

‘Yep, boss, we have them.'

‘Good lad.'

A wave of dislike rushed through me. I blinked, my stomach churning; I couldn't bear this. Staring with hatred at the two men standing next to me, I acted quickly. There was only one thing for it; swiftly catapulting my own arm upwards, I punched the air, taking Tom by complete surprise.

‘Aha.' My bid was noted.

Gasp.

Both men glared at me and one raised his arm again.

I rolled my eyes at them and then in a manic flurry I copied.

We were in direct competition. It was like a game of table tennis. Back and forth we went; there was no way on this earth they would be taking my chickens home tonight.

‘For heaven's sake, what are you doing?' Tom hissed in my ear.

I shrugged. ‘Saving my birds. This bidding lark is quite easy when you know how,' I replied, glancing up to give him a frosty look.

The entire population of market traders' heads were now locked in my direction and even the birds appeared to be straining their necks through the cage, waiting for their fate to be confirmed.

‘You can't get attached to the chickens – they're our livelihood,' Tom said firmly.

‘Just you watch me, Tom.'

‘You're costing us a fortune!'

‘I don't care how much it's costing!'

I had never been more determined in my life. I couldn't let them be drenched in sweet and sour sauce; they deserved to enjoy their finer years of life clucking around the meadow.

‘They're over our budget now, boss,' one of the men noted in a disgruntled manner.

My arm was firmly in the air and it wasn't moving.

Tom let out a defeated sigh. ‘Kitty, you're a big softy, and OK, you win; we'll take the chickens home and keep the old birds happy.'

‘I knew you would see sense.'

‘Going, going …'

I stared at the two men with sheer disgust.

‘Gone to the lady wearing the overalls in the front row.'

One of the two men stared at me and uttered a loud sigh whilst the other could be heard muttering abuse, but they both skulked off from the front of the crowd with not a chicken between them.

The relief swept over me. Turning round towards Tom, I hugged him. I was ecstatic.

‘Bold move, Kit – you've won all ten crates.' Tom's eyes met mine.

‘Thank God,' I enthused.

‘Look how much you've cost us to buy our own chickens back.'

‘I couldn't let them eat our birds, Tom. I know technically you're the boss and I'm sorry I've cost us money, but this livestock deserves a happy ending. Agreed?'

‘Agreed,' Tom declared with amusement written all over his face.

‘Let's load those crates back the van and get the hell out of here.'

Tom saluted in my direction.

A
rriving
home that evening after we'd settled the rescued chickens back at Bluebell Lodge, the buoyant mood of the day called for only one thing – a large cool, crisp glass of wine. Glad to be back after such an early start, I felt a sense of achievement and pride. Beginning to daydream, I had a thought: Kitty Lewis, the saver of chickens. I could prance around wearing a pair of red wellies with a matching red cape sporting the capital letters S and C – yes, Super Chick.

What a day.

Balancing on one leg, trying to remove my wellington boots, which appeared to be cemented to my feet, I toppled backwards and landed on my backside. Pulling off the boot after it finally became unstuck, mud flew from the sole and splattered up the wall in the hallway.

‘Damn.'

Now feeling too tired, I couldn't be bothered to clean it up. Heading straight towards the fridge, I made a mental note to purchase one of those bootjack thingymebobs and leave it by the front door, especially now this welly malarkey was going to be regular attire.

I heard Alfie in the bedroom, and he soon appeared alongside me, purring gladly.

After a quick bonding session with the cat, I poured a glass of wine and took a well-deserved sip. No sooner had I propped my feet up on the settee and opened my book, than the doorbell rang.

Bugger – who the heck would be ringing the bell at this time of night?

It rang again.

I sat quietly, willing them to go away whilst shushing at Alfie, though he wasn't making a sound.

He stared at me; his eyes widened and then he swiped at my finger, obviously thinking this was some sort of new game.

‘Ouch,' I mouthed at him, feeling a short, sharp pain followed by a little trickle of blood running down my finger. That would teach me to shush the cat.

Startled by the loud knock that followed, I tensed up. Surely they have the wrong blooming door and will hopefully go away any moment now, I thought.

Knock, knock, KNOCK.

If nothing else, they were persistent.

‘Flipping heck, Alfie, all I wanted was a sit-down.'

He purred back at me like he understood my predicament whilst still watching my finger with a wicked glint in his eye.

I placed my book on the table and reluctantly forced my tired body up and out of the comfort of the settee.

Before I even had a chance to open the door, I heard a voice filter through.

‘Kitty, are you in there? Come on, open up, it's only me.'

Recognising the cheerful tones of Jeannie's voice, I flicked the latch and opened the door.

Holding up a thin white plastic carrier before my eyes on her arched finger, the smell of Chinese food wafted in my direction.

‘Ta-dah, thought you might be in need of a celebratory meal after today's little escapade. I've heard all about your bidding war.' She smiled, nudging me playfully.

Alfie appeared in the hallway and began to continually wind his way around my legs. I picked him up and held him close; he stretched his nose towards the white carrier bag and purred.

Giving me a quick hug, Jeannie tossed her hair over her shoulder and bounced straight past me in the direction of the living room.

‘Where are the plates? I'm famished. I've worked up a right appetite; been up to my eyes in it all day, mucking out.'

However shattered I was, it would seem my plans for an early night snuggled up in my PJs had been wiped out before my very eyes, but that Chinese did smell heavenly and I was in need of some sort of stodge to soak up the wine before I began to talk gibberish.

Placing the plates down on the table alongside the cutlery, I asked, ‘Wine? Would you like a glass?'

‘Yes, please!'

I poured Jeannie a large glass.

‘So,' Jeannie wound the chicken chow mein around her fork, ‘a little bird tells me you had the market in uproar today.'

‘A little bird?'

‘Robin.'

‘Who's Robin?'

‘Robin is my brother. Full of it today he was when he arrived home. I had a complete rundown of your impressive rescue of Bluebell Lodge's birds.' She was laughing. ‘It's kept me amused for the last hour.'

I scrunched my face up. ‘I can't believe those horrible men were going to cook up my chickens, the absolute cheek of them.'

Stabbing my fork into the chicken chow mein, I wavered and placed the fork back my plate, making the conscious decision to look into becoming a vegetarian.

Jeannie grinned at me. ‘Well done you is all I can say. I think it's a marvellous idea, keeping all the old hens. It's only been a short time, but I've found myself getting attached to my new feathered friends.'

‘Me too,' I responded, looking down at the diced chicken on my plate and realising those feathered friends may once have been related to my feathered friends and enjoyed a life clucking around a quaint farmyard until their fate was decided by the highest bidder at a poultry market.

‘Are you eating that?' Jeannie asked, giving me a sidelong glance.

‘I don't believe I am; I've suddenly lost my appetite,' I confirmed, guiltily remembering every chicken I had ever eaten in my lifetime.

Jeannie smiled. Picking up my plate, she scraped the contents of meat and noodles her own plate and began tucking in.

‘Waste not want not.'

‘How did Robin know who I was?' I asked, intrigued.

‘Tom had mentioned to him that there was a new boss at the Lodge. Those pair have known each other since school, and then they met up at the market – that's how I got the job. Tom mentioned he needed an assistant for the farm and Robin talked him into giving me a shot. I couldn't believe my luck when I landed the job – with such a handsome boss too, what a bonus!' She grinned.

She did like Tom after all; my mood suddenly slumped and now I certainly had no appetite left. What chance did I have if Jeannie was after him?

‘More wine?' I offered, suddenly realising we'd drunk our way through one bottle already. ‘This is going down too well,' I murmured, gulping mine down like it was water.

‘Go on then.'

Retrieving another bottle from the fridge, I poured another two very large glasses.

Jeannie took a sip, then continued. ‘Saving the chickens aside, you made quite the impression today. All he's been talking about since he got back was the attractive new boss.' She winked.

Wait a minute. I was busy trying to put two and two together. Did this mean that Tom found me attractive? Would it be too much to let out a huge whoop whoop and dance on the table? Yes it would. Keep your cool, Kitty.

Taking another sip from my glass, there was no denying the fact I was secretly chuffed to bits.

‘Well, I'm actually here to try bribing you with this

Chinese tonight, fingers crossed.'

Placing my wine glass down on the table, I looked at Jeannie.

‘Bribe me? With what? Go on, I'm intrigued.'

‘A double date,' she gleefully responded.

‘Whaaaa?'

‘A double date.'

‘With Tom?' My voice was now extending to an excited octave higher and sounded all weird and strangled.

‘Of course with Tom, who else?'

My mind was already wandering, flicking along the rail in my wardrobe, mentally trying to choose a desired outfit. Sod it, a new dress was called for – I would need to go shopping.

‘Yikes, I'm in! Jeannie, I'm going to need your help – a new dress is in order.' I was grinning ecstatically.

‘Not a problem.'

‘So who's the fourth person then?'

‘Has that wine gone straight to your head? That is four people, silly.' Jeannie, who was also very tipsy by now, giggled.

‘I've only counted three,' I responded in a very confused state.

‘You, me, Tom and Robin,' Jeannie announced. ‘One, two, three, four,' she said, counting on her fingers.

‘Very funny, you can't date your brother, that is
so
wrong and I'm sure you'll find it's also against the law.' I giggled.

‘I'm not dating Robin, you are!'

My smile suddenly plunged into despair and reality hit. She didn't mean my date was with Tom, which could only mean one thing.

‘Then who are you dating?'

‘Er, Tom, who else?'

Complete silence.

Coming back down to earth instantly, I gave Jeannie a blank look; what the heck was she talking about?

‘Robin couldn't take his eyes off you at the market and begged me to engineer a date! You'll adore him; he's got such a good sense of humour.'

My chest tightened. What a massive disaster.

‘Are you OK, Kitty, you've gone kind of white?'

I pretended to be distracted. ‘I feel a little faint, to be honest, must be the wine. I'll open the window.'

Once the window was open I began to slowly tidy away the dirty plates while I digested this information. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Taking another huge gulp of wine, I pondered.

I started speaking slowly, trying to take in the proposal; my natural response was to refuse. I didn't like the thought of seeing Jeannie draped all over Tom. It felt horrible just thinking about it. I'd only known these people a few days, so why was I feeling so crushed? I'd never experienced feelings like this before, and so soon after meeting someone too.

Let's face it, I barely knew Tom, but we seemed to click so well, and he was so easy to be around – not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. There I was admitting it to myself: I liked him, really liked him.

But, in reality why would he ever fall for me anyway? Jeannie was beautiful, stunning; five foot six, with a slim size-eight figure and clear skin to die for. And me, well, I think the words average and ordinary best described me. The only blind date I had ever been on hadn't gone well; he was a trainspotter, and we'd been fixed up by one of my college friends. He liked standing around on station platforms scoring off train numbers in a pocket book. The only thing I fancied that day was a mint choc chip ice cream, but the ice-cream vendor was a no-show due to the excessive downpour of rain. A huge disappointment, just like the company. To say I hadn't enjoyed the date was an understatement, and there was no way I was investing in an anorak; it wasn't cool and it wasn't hip.

I had only really ever been in one serious relationship, with my ex, Luke. I thought we would eventually marry and have the dream, which included a house and two children. However, things began to rapidly fall apart once I gave up my university place. We grew apart and within a term of him starting at university, the relationship had ended. There hadn't been anyone else since Luke.

I settled back onto the seat in the kitchen and thought about explaining my predicament. This was my cue to come clean. Actually now was probably not the time to explain; Jeannie was very much a stranger too and me blurting out after two bottles of wine and a half-eaten chow mein that at my age I had only ever slept with one man seemed like too much too soon.

‘So what do you think? Is it a yes?' urged Jeannie, waiting for an answer.

‘What's Tom's take on it all?' I asked, my stomach churning, not really wanting to know the answer.

‘He's definitely up for a night out, said he would look forward to it if you were game.'

My heart sank to a new depth; if he was willing to go on a double date and I wasn't his date then I needed to face facts – we were never going to be more than friends.

Take a deep breath, Kitty.

What was I thinking anyway? I couldn't date an employee; I was technically Tom's boss – it could never work!

I stifled a yawn. ‘Time for bed for me, Jeannie. I was up early, and I mean early.'

‘Well, come on, I'm dying here, what's your answer? Robin thinks you're really attractive. I'm not leaving until I have an answer.'

I laughed but then suddenly realised she wasn't kidding.

‘Come on – tell me for heaven's sake!'

‘OK, it's a night out. You can show me the nightlife around these parts.'

This was going to be torture.

‘Excellent.' Jeannie clapped her hands in excitement.

There was nothing excellent about it; it was most definitely on a par with the trainspotting date. It was probably for the best that I didn't mix business with pleasure; well that's what people say, don't they? So why wasn't I convinced?