One Minute Later: Behind every secret is a story, the emotionally gripping new book from the bestselling author. Susan Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ into Zoe’s head and so all precautions had to be taken.)

      ‘I’m going to call him Alan,’ Josh announced for the twenty-eighth time, bouncing up and down between his sisters. His excited little face was as flushed and eager as it always was at the prospect of a newcomer to his personal menagerie. He’d been collecting, studying, doctoring, releasing and sometimes burying wildlife since he was old enough to know what it was, and his enthusiasm for all creatures great and small was only surpassed by his incredible, even instinctive understanding of their peculiar habits and needs.

      ‘Everyone thinks Milady is going to win,’ Zoe informed them confidently. ‘Mummy, you remembered to bring the camera, didn’t you?’

      ‘I did,’ Shelley assured her.

      ‘Stop jerking about,’ Hanna protested as Josh knocked into the cress sculpture she was holding. She’d grown it into the shape of a cookie monster over the past few weeks in preparation for the show, and Josh’s life wasn’t going to be a long one if he bumped it again. ‘Daddy, did I tell you that Lydia Harris has made a horse with her cress, but it doesn’t really look like one?’

      ‘Yours does,’ Josh informed her loyally.

      ‘It’s not supposed to be a horse!’ she cried furiously. ‘It’s a monster, you idiot.’

      ‘Well it looks like a horse to me,’ he argued, ‘a bit of a weird one, though.’ After a beat he added, ‘Actually if it doesn’t frighten anyone I expect you will.’

      Jack and Shelley choked back their laughter as Hanna thumped her brother, regarding her artistic endeavour with an unsteady mix of anxiety and pride as they jostled along the rutted track and into the field that was hosting vehicles for the show’s tradesmen and competitors.

      It was a hot June day with no more than a few wisps of clouds in the sky, and the sour, sweaty stench of livestock doing its best to overpower the perfumed cocktail of flowers, cakes and sizzling hot dogs that floated about between trees and stalls. This was the Raynor family’s fifth show in a row (Josh’s third), and each year they’d gone home with a small clutch of awards and souvenirs, assorted foodstuffs, several chickens, a couple of ducks, and many cases of locally brewed cider. Last year they’d snared a prize for the Scariest Scarecrow, which they’d modelled on Lord Dregg of Ninja Turtle fame and who, Shelley had secretly felt, bore an uncanny resemblance to their roguish neighbour, Giles. In fact, it was possible Giles had recognized himself, for she’d spotted him shooting baleful glances at the straw-stuffed effigy as though not entirely sure if he was being wound up or not.

      Much had changed during the almost five years since they’d taken over Deerwood. The farmhouse was now almost fully renovated, some of the outbuildings had undergone serious repair, and as of last week they’d become the proud owners of no less than twenty-seven ewes and six neutered rams. However, the greatest excitement since their arrival – next to Josh being born, of course – was the fact that Nate and Kat had decided to build a large, rambling stone cottage on the acre of land that Shelley and Jack had gifted them. It was set back from the main-road end of the mile-long track up to the farmhouse, barely visible to passers-by in spite of the delightful welcome gate cut into the hedge. Nate was now a firefighter with the Kesterly service, and Kat helped to run the local nursery school.

      ‘Look at him,’ Jack sighed, sliding an arm round Shelley as they strolled towards the entrance and Josh zoomed off to join a couple of friends he’d spotted. ‘I haven’t seen him this excited since … yesterday?’

      Shelley had to laugh. ‘Let’s hope we find a pig,’ she declared, ‘or he’s going to end up as disappointed as Steven.’ Steven was Josh’s pet lamb, a sorry little creature who’d apparently decided that he’d rather have a piglet as a friend than another lamb. They knew this because Josh had told them, and apparently Steven had told Josh. Steven had been helped into the world by Josh a few months ago, and was now a part-time resident of the farmhouse, along with Petunia, Zoe’s three-and-a-half-legged lamb (grown into a sheep), who’d popped into the world on the same February night that Josh had made his own speedy debut.

      Jack still enjoyed teasing Shelley about her horrified disbelief that he’d actually left her to give birth alone that night, when what he’d actually done was dash into the barn for the car, leaving Harry and the girls to deal with Milady’s lazy efforts to rid herself of twins. Sadly the first one out had perished, causing many tears. However, happiness had been restored when Milady hadn’t shown any interest in becoming a mother to the second arrival, so Zoe had taken on the role. Meantime, Jack was delivering Josh in the car halfway down the drive with the nearest phone box more than two miles away (if it was working and it usually wasn’t); and since they were still on their own land there had been no chance of passing traffic to come to the rescue. In the end, with the newborn in Shelley’s arms, he’d driven to hospital at breakneck speed in order to get mother and child separated, cleaned up and checked over. An hour later all three had been on their way home again.

      Jack had felt very proud of himself that day, and Josh never tired of hearing the story of how his daddy had single-handedly brought him into the world, as though Jack were some sort of magician who didn’t bother with rabbits and hats, because babies out of mummies was much more impressive, especially when that baby was him.

      ‘Daddy!’ Zoe shouted from somewhere. ‘Milady’s dragging me … Stop! I said stop! Daddy! Help!’

      Laughing, Jack went to the rescue, and when he realized that Milady was trying to make a beeline for Roger, the ram who’d come to service the ewes these past two years, he was helpless with mirth as he tried to drag her back on track.

      ‘It’s not funny,’ Zoe complained. ‘She’s naughty. You’re a very bad girl, Milady. Dodgy should be here,’ she told her father. ‘He never takes any nonsense from her.’ Dodgy was in fact Dodgy Two, who’d come to join them fresh from training, after the original Dodgy had gone to round up sheep angels earlier in the year. By then dear old Dodgy had lost all sense of time and purpose, often chasing in the small flock only minutes after Jack or Shelley had let them out, or circling hikers who came along the public footpath, as though they needed sorting out too. Jack had wept for days after sending the beloved old collie off to new pastures, and Shelley had been no comfort for she’d been beside herself too.

      ‘We shouldn’t be farmers,’ she often declared, ‘we love animals too much.’ And we’re not even close to making enough money to live on, she never added, for it didn’t seem anywhere near as important as how happy they all were.

      In truth, if it weren’t for Jack’s income from his three days a week as a vet, added to the small rent they received from Giles and other neighbours for thirty of their seventy-five acres, and the meagre government subsidies, they wouldn’t be managing at all. Buying and selling sheep, rearing and grazing them, shearing them, and sending them for slaughter in September usually left them with a grand total of next to nothing at the end of each year. The bright side of that, of course, was that they never had to pay any tax.

      Throughout the frenetic and frequently hilarious day full of morris dancing, showjumping, local bands playing, and assorted auctions, they shopped the various food stalls, and stopped to chat with the many friends they’d made since moving to the area. By the end Milady had won runner-up at Best in Show, Hanna had howled in justified fury when some contemptible toff had stubbed a cigarette out on her cress creation, and Josh had struck a deal with Terry Yarwood, a local farmer, two piglets for the price of one. So now Steven would have Willy Wonka and Charlie Bucket to keep him company. No Alan in sight.

      ‘We should call your dad on the way home,’ Shelley said, as they piled children and animals back into cars and trailers. ‘He’ll be wanting to know СКАЧАТЬ