Chloe's Rescue Mission Read Online Free PDF Page B

manure, humming by the side gate, or the stack of old dining chairs my mother had salvaged from a car-boot sale and was planning to renovate.
    The savoury smell of roast dinner met us as we stepped into the large, square hall. There was a ticking of claws on the kitchen tiles as Kandy made her way through from the garden. Duncan stood still as she approached. After a few more greeting barks, she was on her back, paws relaxed, waiting for a tummy-rub.
    Duncan hunkered down and obliged.
    ‘She’s shameless.’ I said.
    ‘Runs in the family,’ Owen added so I threw him a warning look.
    ‘Beautiful dog,’ said Duncan. ‘I’d love one but when you travel like I do, it’s just not possible.’ He continued ruffling the woolly shawl of fur around Kandy’s neck. ‘We always had a dog at home. My mother used to get the ugliest mongrel from the rescue centre – she thought they were more loving than the good-looking ones.’
    Owen sidled past us and headed for the kitchen. ‘Morning, Mrs S.’
    Duncan stood, suddenly appearing very tall in the low-ceilinged confines of the cottage. I followed Owen and beckoned Duncan to follow me. Mum was pink in the face as she turned towards us. Like me, she had thick, wavy hair but hers was cropped into a bob which, when untamed, resembled a dish mop. Today was no exception. Her fashion style is Bollywood does Gym – all Indian fabrics, bling and leggings with pumps. ‘Hello lovely people. Sorry about the mess. Hello Duncan – and welcome. I’m Jennifer.’ She moved towards him, arms outstretched like she was greeting family at the airport, so he had no option but to hug her.
    ‘Pleased to meet you, Jennifer, and sorry for crashing your family lunch.’
    ‘Nonsense. We’re delighted to have you. And I’m so thrilled you’re taking an interest in the theatre.’
    ‘My pleasure.’
    ‘Where’s Beth,’ I asked.
    ‘Upstairs, bathing Tom. He showed a bit too much interest in that pile of excrement outside.’ I flinched. ‘Owen, darling, do me a favour and open that bottle of red, will you?’
    *
    Duncan surveyed the kitchen, with its shabby pine cupboards, cream coloured Aga and an old table laden with jars of home-made jam. Curled on a chair was a huge tabby cat, seemingly oblivious to the activities around it. Duncan had a flashback to childhood, when his own mother would be busily preparing a dozen cooked breakfasts for their guests, while he and his sister made round after round of toast, and ferried plates to and from the dining room. It hadn’t been long before the roles had changed, and he’d been the one sweating over pans full of bacon and eggs, and stirring a heavy-bottomed skillet full of porridge.
    ‘Would you like a drink, Duncan?’ Chloe was smiling at him. He could tell she was on her best I-hope-I-don’t-put-a-foot-wrong behaviour.
    ‘If you’ve any alcohol-free beer, I’ll have one of those, please.’
    Owen handed Chloe the opened wine bottle. ‘Don’t mind if I check the fridge for beers, do you, Mrs S?’ he asked, checking anyway.
    Duncan watched as Chloe poured two glasses of wine and placed one by the Aga for her mother. A thought occurred to him. ‘Jennifer, I must apologise for not bringing you a bottle of wine. Very remiss of me.’
    ‘Oh, don’t worry. You can bring two next time.’
    He saw Chloe’s eyes pinch with embarrassment before recovering to say, ‘Let’s go into the sitting room. When Mum gets to the final stages of food prep, she prefers to panic in private.’
    ‘It’s not panic, darling. It’s organisation. If I’m chatting to guests, I leave things in the oven. Bugger what they say about women multi-tasking; a glass of wine and good conversation can really screw up your menu.’
    Duncan smiled. ‘I know the feeling.’
    ‘You do?’
    ‘I started out in catering.’
    ‘Well, you’ll know exactly what I mean. Do you like to cook?’
    ‘I do, yes, when I have time. It helps me unwind.’
    ‘So what’s your