Professional Documents
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FSC is a non-profit
organisation
established
the responsibleinternational
management of the worlds
forests. Products
carrying the to promote
FSC management
label are independently
to assure consumers
they come carrying the
the responsible
of certified
the worlds
forests. that
Products
from forests that are managed to meet the social, economic and
FSC label are independently
certified to assure consumers that they come
ecological needs of present and future generations,
from forests that are managed
to meet
the social, economic and
and other controlled
sources.
ecological needs of present and future generations,
Find out more about HarperCollins and the environment at
andwww.harpercollins.co.uk/green
other controlled sources.
Find out more about HarperCollins and the environment at
www.harpercollins.co.uk/green
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P ro lo g u e
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Alexandra Brown
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same school that I went to, and Jack also. And Mum
and I can laugh about it all now, even if it is long
distance. Jack and I have had some glorious holidays
over the years, staying with her, just a few kilometres
from a lovely, secluded sandy beach, and of course she
comes to see us whenever she can, but its not the same
as having family here all the time. Thank God for
friends! Talking of which, Sybs, short for Sybil, cycles
past the window before popping her head through the
open half of the stable door.
Hi Meg, not intruding am I? She grins, carefully
leaning her bicycle next to mine against the honeysuckleclad fence. Sybs used to be a housing officer in London
before giving it all up and settling in Tindledale last
year.
Of course not, come on in and have a coffee with
me, I say, thrilled to see her. I go to scoop up Blue so
he doesnt escape when I open the bottom half of the
stable door hes my super-soft, caramel-coloured,
palomino house rabbit, who used to live outside in a
hutch until Jack found his poor female friend, Belle,
dead one morning, having been savaged by a fox in the
night. So Blue lives inside now to keep him safe, and
can usually be found basking in the heat from the log
burner in winter, or, like today, when its so warm and
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sunny, he likes sprawling prone across the cool, quarrytiled kitchen floor. I plop him back down, and after a
quick twitch of his tail, he scampers off to his bowl to
munch on some carrot sticks that I sliced up earlier
for him.
Ahh, better not, Sybs says. I dont want to ruin your
lovely home. Another time, perhaps, Im just on my
way up to the High Street to see if Taylor can squeeze
this filthy mutt in for a much-needed appointment at
the pet parlour. She glances at the basket on the front
of the bike where Basil, her black Scottie dog, is sitting
inside, caked in mud, before shaking her head. Her red
curls bounce around abundantly.
Oops, what happened to him? I ask, laughing when
Basil lets out a disgruntled growl and then hunkers
down as if in disgrace. And what is that horrendous
pong? I quickly place my hand over my nose before
leaning in closer to the honeysuckle, hoping to catch
a whiff of its glorious scent to take away Basils
noxious one.
Err, this little rascal decided to leg it across Petes
newly ploughed field after spotting a brace of pheasants
on the horizon, and then found a pile of fresh fox poo
in the hedgerow and thought it would be a brilliant
idea to roll around in it. And hes ruined my new
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Alexandra Brown
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Alexandra Brown
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Alexandra Brown
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