I returned to the farmhouse to make myself some breakfast. I wasn’t at all hungry, but I thought I really must force something down – goodness only knew what the day would bring. It was too early yet to ring the hospital, anxious though I was for news, and too early to return the calls of the people who’d left messages on the answering machine.
I set the kettle to boil, and a pan of water for a boiled egg, then went to switch on the radio, more for company than because I wanted to listen to it. But it wasn’t in its usual place on the window ledge. Mum must have moved it, I supposed – sometimes, if there was a programme she was particularly interested in, she carried it around with her. It was very unusual for her not to have brought it back to the kitchen, though.
I went through to the sitting room to see if it was there, but as I pushed the door – which was ajar – fully open, I froze, confused and alarmed. The sitting room was in disarray, drawers in the dresser open, their contents spilled over the floor, and the television had been removed from its stand and propped up against the fireplace. What on earth . . .? In disbelief I glanced around, and saw that the mantelpiece was bare but for a couple of framed family photographs, and one of them appeared to have been knocked over. The anniversary clock that was Mum’s pride and joy was missing.
We’d been burgled! Somebody had been in here ransacking the house while Mum and I had been at the hospital! I could scarcely believe it, but now the things that had puzzled me last night were making sense – the front door unlocked, Scrumpy in the house, looking guilty – when someone who had no business to be here had either broken in or walked in through the open door if I’d forgotten to lock it, she must have tried to warn them off. Maybe she’d succeeded and that was why they’d left the television behind, making off with just the small items they could carry easily – the radio, the anniversary clock, and maybe a few other bits and pieces that I hadn’t yet missed.
The phone was ringing. Leaving the drawing room I hurried as fast as I could manage into the hall. My heart had begun to hammer so hard it was making me feel sick. For the moment I forgot all about the burglary – what did a few stolen possessions matter? The only thing of any importance was news of Dad.
I grabbed the phone. ‘Hello?’
‘Sally. It’s me. Mum.’
‘Yes? How are things?’ I could scarcely breathe.
‘Better. You’ll be glad to hear, Sally, your dad has regained consciousness.’
My knees went weak from relief. ‘Oh, thank God!’
‘I know. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I can’t tell you, Sally, when I saw his eyelids flutter . . . and when he squeezed my hand . . .’ She broke off, emotion overcoming her. ‘He’s not out of the woods yet, of course,’ she went on after a moment. ‘He’s still very drowsy, and I don’t think he can remember anything about what happened, but at least he’s come round. And there doesn’t seem to be any serious internal damage either. He’s badly bruised, of course, but nothing is broken. I think he must have flung himself out of the way when the cows stampeded, but got kicked as they went by. And he would have dislocated his shoulder when he fell.’
‘Yes, that makes sense.’
‘How are things there?’ Mum asked.
No way was I going to tell her we’d been burgled. She had quite enough on her plate just now. There would be plenty of time to break that to her later.
‘Fine,’ I lied. ‘Mark Turnbull came to help Sam with the milking, and he’s coming again this afternoon. And Jeremy has promised us one of his hands for as long as we need him. So everything is under control.’
‘Oh, that’s good. Your dad will be relieved.’
I couldn’t help but smile. The idea of Dad being relieved was almost amusing, given the state he’d been in the last time I’d seen him. But it was also amazingly cheering.
‘Do thank Jeremy for me,’ Mum went on. ‘He’s been a brick, hasn’t he?’
There was no denying that. The last thing he’d said to me when he dropped me off last night was that he’d take me to Frenchay again today if I wanted to go and didn’t feel up to driving myself.
‘I’ll be in later, Mum,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a few things to do here first though.’ Understatement of the year, I thought grimly.
‘All right, love. No rush.’
‘Give Dad my love. And Mum . . . I am so glad he’s back with us.’
‘You and me both,’ Mum said.
I hung up, and wondered if I should ring the police now, while I had the phone in my hand. But perhaps it would make sense to check again what was missing before I did that. I could still scarcely believe that we really had been burgled. Could it be that Mum had been doing some spring cleaning yesterday and not got around to clearing up after herself? But why would she take the TV off its stand? In all honesty, I doubted she could even manage it, even if she’d wanted to. It wasn’t a huge set – Mum and Dad were not the home-cinema types – but it must be at least two feet in width, a flat screen that sat in a groove on its stand. And where was the anniversary clock and the DAB radio? And why had the dresser drawers been pulled out and rifled through?