Finding Love at Hedgehog Hollow. Jessica Redland

I was beginning to wonder whether I needed to consider a complete career change when I spotted an advert for a Health and Social Care Tutor at Reddfield TEC. I’d never seriously considered teaching before but I was always the one who got new starters up to speed and I loved it – so I filled in an application form, convinced they wouldn’t offer the job to someone with no teaching experience or teaching qualifications. But they did. I was joining the college in early September at the start of the new academic year. It was going to be very different but I was excited about the fresh start and if it wasn’t for me, there was nothing to stop me returning to district nursing after a year or two. At least I’d have put the physical distance between James and me that I desperately needed.

      Twenty minutes later, I fought back screams of frustration as the sat nav directed me to a farm and the robotic voice declared once more that I’d reached my destination.

      ‘No! I haven’t. Does this look like Aversford Manor to you?’ I reached for my mobile again. Still no signal. Glancing up the farm track, I couldn’t see any buildings. A tatty wooden sign hung from a rusty pole with the name ‘HEDGEHOG HOLLOW’ written on it in peeling black paint.

      ‘Please let there be someone home who can tell me where the hell I am. Or that they have a landline so I can call Dad. Or both.’

      I turned onto the gravel track which inclined towards the horizon. Overgrown green fields flanked the track either side of a rickety wooden fence which had certainly seen better days. A myriad of potholes full of muddy rainwater from the previous day’s downpour jostled me from side to side, and made me gasp. James was not going to be impressed at the state of his car but needs must.

      After passing a small copse on both sides of the road, the track bent sharply to the left, revealing a large three-storey stone farmhouse smothered in ivy. Surrounding the house were several stone barns and outbuildings in various states of disrepair including a wooden one that looked as though a sneeze in its direction would bring the timbers crashing down.

      I stopped in the farmyard in front of one of the more sturdy-looking stone barns and checked I wasn’t about to step out into a cowpat or puddle before I exited the car. Ruining my shoes and dress would be par for the course in my current living nightmare.

      Standing in the yard, rolling my stiff shoulders, I shielded my eyes from the sun as I took in the stunning location. All around me fields rose and fell across the Wolds – assuming that’s where I still was – with the occasional building interrupting the greenery. Birds chirped and crickets sang in the long grass. But birds and insects appeared to be the only signs of life. No other animals, no people, no vehicles. I inhaled. No farmyard smells either. This definitely wasn’t a working farm and, judging from the sorry state of it, it could well be abandoned. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on the top of a perfect day?

      Hitching up my skirts, I made my way towards the double-fronted farmhouse, pressed the doorbell, and listened for the ring. Nothing. I rapped on the knocker and waited. No answer. Feeling very much like I was casing the joint and that a beefy farmer might clamp his hand on my arm at any moment and yell, ‘Get off my land!’, I cautiously made my way towards one of the large paned windows to the left. The glass looked as though it hadn’t been washed for the past decade, adding to my suspicions that the place had long since been abandoned. Grimacing, I rubbed some of the dirt away with my fingers and peered through one of the glass panes into what looked to be an enormous kitchen-diner. Unless the occupants had left in a hurry mid-task, someone definitely lived there because there was washing up piled in the sink, an open box of cereal and an open carton of milk on the worktop.

      Returning to the door, I knocked again, then opened the letterbox and shouted, ‘Hello? Anyone home?’ I stood up and waited for a minute or so, then crouched down and shouted through the letterbox again. ‘Hello?’

      Nothing. Damn! Stepping back from the house, I scanned the first floor windows and the dormers on the top floor for signs of life but I couldn’t see anything. I’d try one of the other windows at the front and then I’d have to accept that nobody was home and hope to stumble across another farm – an inhabited one this time.

      Making my way towards the house again, I stopped and looked down as something wet slapped against my ankles.

      ‘Noooo!’

      I’d only gone and let go of my dress at some point and it had been dragging through the muddy puddles, a steady band of muck rising up from the hem. My pink shoes were streaked with mud too. Chloe was going to flip. Seriously, could the day get any worse?

      Picking up my skirts again – a bit pointless considering the state they were in now – I stepped up to one of the windows to the right of the front door. I rubbed one of the panes before shading my eyes and looking into the lounge. Again, there were signs of life like a mug and a newspaper on the coffee table. Wait. Is that a woman standing near the door? A crow cawing momentarily drew my attention away and, when I looked back, my breath caught. Oh no!

      Dashing to the front door, I tried the handle, relief flowing through me as the door opened.

      ‘Hello?’ I called running down the hall. ‘Can you hear me?’

      A white-haired man who looked to be in his eighties was slumped against the lounge wall, his face grey and his eyes closed. Blood trickled from cuts on his head and cheek. My heart thudded. Please don’t let me be too late!

      ‘Hello? My name’s Sam and I’m a nurse.’

      I lifted the man’s wrist and felt for his pulse. It was weak, but it was definitely there. Thank goodness.

      ‘Hang in there. I’m here to help you.’

      I spotted a landline phone on a large dresser and lifted the receiver. Relieved to hear a dialling tone, I called 999.

      With the ambulance on its way, there was nothing I could do without my medical bag except try to make him comfortable and reassure him. There was a blanket draped over the back of the sofa.

      ‘Stay with me,’ I urged the man, tucking the blanket round him and straightening his large dark-framed glasses. ‘Help is on its way.’

      His eyes flickered and he murmured something unintelligible.

      ‘Don’t try to speak. You’re safe now. An ambulance is coming.’ I checked his pulse once more. ‘You’re doing great. You gave me a scare, though. I only stopped by to get some directions. I’m on my way to my cousin’s wedding reception, you see…’

      As I jabbered to him, regularly checking his pulse, I couldn’t help picturing Gramps slumped against his headboard that heart breaking Sunday morning. I’d been too late to save him but hopefully I was just in time to save this man.

      9

      ‘Here’s my phone number,’ I said to Rich, one of the paramedics, while his colleague secured the patient inside the vehicle. ‘I know it’s not always easy to find out information but, if you can, I’d love to know how he’s doing.’

      Rich took the piece of paper and smiled. ‘I’ll do my best. You do realise that, by getting lost, you’ve probably saved his life?’

      I nodded. ‘If the sat nav hadn’t been so useless, I’d never have been here. He’d have—’ I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.

      ‘Well, you were here and he’s alive right now because of it. Lucky for him you’re a nurse.’ Rich closed the back doors then clambered into the driver’s seat. ‘You know where you’re going now?’ It turned out I was in an area called Huggleswick, only a couple of miles away from Aversford Manor.

      ‘Yes, thanks. I’ll check for any pets then lock up and get myself to the wedding.’

      Rich