A Year at Meadowbrook Manor: Escape to the countryside this year with this perfect feel-good romance read in 2018. Faith Bleasdale

A Year at Meadowbrook Manor: Escape to the countryside this year with this perfect feel-good romance read in 2018 - Faith  Bleasdale


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to relax. She remembered her outdoorsy childhood and although the animal sanctuary wasn’t here when she was growing up, it was beginning to feel more like home.

      ‘And the goats are Piper, Flo and Romeo.’ Connor pointed to the three goats who were happily munching grass. One of them came over to where they stood, looking at them hopefully.

      ‘Hi, Romeo,’ Connor said, picking some grass and handing it to him through the fence.

      ‘Where’s Juliet?’ Harriet quipped.

      ‘That’s why he’s here, because he lost his Juliet. She died, and they thought he would too, he wouldn’t eat, and when they asked me to look at him, I could tell he had a broken heart, so I suggested trying to bring him here to be with Piper and Flo.’

      ‘Oh my goodness, that’s so sad.’ Harriet didn’t like to add that she knew how Romeo felt. Part of her wanted to pine and never eat again. Over a job not a lover in her case though.

      ‘Luckily when he came they all seemed to get on, and he’s perked right up.’

      ‘A sort of goat ménage à trois?’

      ‘Let’s hope not,’ Connor laughed. ‘Piper and Flo are sisters.’

      Harriet laughed. Whether it was the warm morning breeze, being able to see lush fields and so much open space, she didn’t know, but she felt as if she could breathe a bit. Perhaps she could do this. She felt the breeze in her hair and her head cleared a bit, or at least the fog shifted slightly to the left.

      ‘OK, well we have chickens over there.’ He pointed to another field which held a very elaborate looking henhouse as well as space for them to run. ‘They’re all ex-battery hens but they do lay eggs – at times – and we try to rescue as many chickens as possible. They come to us in such a dreadful state but we mostly get them happy and healthy again. Although, and you have to get used to this, we do lose some of our animals.’

      ‘I guess they all have names too?’ Harriet asked. She hated to think about the cruelty aspect to the sanctuary, or animals dying. She knew it went on but she didn’t want to give herself nightmares. She might be a hard-nosed city woman but she had a heart. It was just a bit of a well-kept secret at the moment.

      ‘All named after Jane Austen characters, one of our staff, Jenni, is a huge fan so we let her name them. And she can tell them apart, but the rest of us get them mixed up.’

      ‘The chickens look kind of the same to me,’ Harriet said, looking at them.

      ‘Don’t tell Jenni that. There are also some geese, they sort of roam around, they’re quite tame, so you can approach them but don’t scare them. And in the far field two Highland bulls.’ He pointed and she looked across. They were enormous, and quite magnificent with their horned heads and shaggy coats. ‘They’re best friends. About a year ago I had a call about them and, well, it wasn’t easy as they aren’t always the friendliest of animals but we managed to get them here. They clearly adore each other, barely leave each other’s side, but they can be aggressive to any other animal and some humans, although they’re fine if you approach them properly. Still, we keep them on their own, we named them Elton and David.’

      ‘Gay bulls? Are you joking?’ Harriet looked at Connor but he had already turned his attention to other animals.

      ‘And if you look at the far side of the field just beyond the ponies, you’ll see that in the shelter we have our blind sheep and her guide lamb. Agnes and Abigail.’ Harriet looked to where Connor pointed and saw two white dots.

      ‘How come she’s blind?’

      ‘She was attacked by a crow when she was pregnant, blinded, but she managed to deliver a healthy baby and the lamb, Abigail, became her “guide lamb”. No good to the farmer so he brought them to us. They trot around together quite happily, it’s very sweet, but we do take extra special care of them, almost like domestic pets.’

      ‘God, Connor, the stories, they’re quite sad.’ Harriet wiped fresh tears from her eyes, for someone who never cried she was suddenly finding it a bit too easy. Poor heartbroken Romeo, the neglected gay cows, the blind sheep and her lamb who took care of her, the ex-battery hens, not to mention the domestic animals. It was so, so tragic. No wonder her father had invested so much in this.

      Her threatening tears came, suddenly. Connor put his arm around her shoulders. She felt warm, she almost felt safe as her body danced with sobs that wouldn’t subside. There was so much heartbreak, not just hers. She wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself, not when there were others who had it so much worse. Even if they were animals.

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