and staring dolefully at the door. “I swear he knows what’s going to happen,” I coo, petting him and kissing his head. “We could market him as a canine seer like that octopus who predicted the World Cup.”
Silas shakes his head. “He’s always outside the bloody door. I tell you he’s just waiting for when you have a weak moment and let him in the bedroom. Then he’ll never leave.”
“I would never do that,” I protest, conveniently forgetting last week when Silas had been away for a night and I’d let Chewwy sleep on his side of the bed.
Knowing me as he does, he just shakes his head again and pulls me after him. The house is silent apart from old creaks and groans. Every day, such sounds are becoming more familiar to me, and I’ve learned not to jump as though there’s a ghost behind me. When we get to the back door, I pause and look at Chewwy who is contemplating sinking into a deep depression. “He’s going to be so sad that we’re going without him.”
“I can’t let him anywhere near a horse giving birth.”
“That’s okay,” I say brightly. “I’ll just give him one of his Christmas presents.”
“One of them?”
“He’s got a stocking and so has Boris and Mabel the cat. We can’t leave our hairy babies out,” I say, bustling over to the corner cupboard. Opening a drawer, I remove the bright red felt stockings embroidered with dogs wearing Santa hats. I extract a small present and look at Silas. “Do you want to open it?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t deprive you of the pleasure,” he says, watching me with his lips twitching.
“You’d better not be laughing at me,” I say warningly.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
We leave Chewwy nosing his new rawhide bone, and then the two of us walk out into a winter wonderland. The snow is thick and shimmering in the glow from the moon, and the trees and bushes sparkle. The snow has stopped, and, helped along by the blustery wind, the clouds have cleared so patches of stars can now be seen. I inhale the clean, cold air and follow Silas, stepping into his footsteps as he ploughs his way through the deep snow.
When we reach the car, we’re both wet, and I know I have red cheeks from the wind. We fall into the car and Silas starts the engine.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod enthusiastically. “This is brilliant. It’s like an adventure.”
He cups my cheek. “Love you, Pika,” he says affectionately.
I nuzzle his palm. “I love you too.”
The journey is a little dicey occasionally, and the car skids a couple of times, but Silas handles it with all the confidence of someone who hasn’t failed their driving test three times. Finally, we pull up in front of a low-slung farmhouse whose windows are glowing in the dark, spilling golden lozenges over the snow. As Silas switches the engine off, the farmhouse door opens and the burly figure of Bill Langley, a local farmer, appears and picks his way towards the car.
As Silas opens the door, they exchange greetings. “Thanks for coming, Silas,” he says in his deep Cornish voice. “I’m a bit worried about the mare. But I’m so sorry I’ve pulled you away from your bloke at Christmas.”
“You haven’t.” Silas grins. “He’s come with me.”
I step cautiously out of the car and smile at Bill Langley as he comes to take my hand in a firm handshake. “I’m pleased to meet you, Oz. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You have?”
“Aye.” He smiles. “My brother-in-law’s a builder. I think you might know him as Barry.”
I groan at the thought of the builder who I clashed with over the summer. “Oh, dear. Nothing good, then.”
He claps his meaty hand on my shoulder, nearly knocking me into a snowdrift. “Plenty good, actually.”
“Really? I’ll have to re-evaluate our relationship.”
He laughs. “I can see he was right.” He looks over at Silas as he removes his big canvas bag from the car boot. “You ready, lad?”
“I am,” Silas says, taking my hand and walking towards a large barn. I sneak a look at the farmer, expecting to see a look of disgust on his face. Instead, I find a warm smile directed at me.
“I’ll let Silas take a look at the mare, and I’ll get my wife to rustle up some coffee. Are either of you hungry?”
Silas shakes his head, but I nod enthusiastically, making him snort under his breath. Bill leaves us