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there and then came over to flop onto the sofa. ‘I don’t miss the lack of money or the never-ending walks to take the rubbish to the skip. I do miss a lot of things: the fish in the river, the morning mists, the chats with the neighbours.’ He paused and frowned, then ran his hand through his recently shorn hair. ‘Actually what I miss the most is that it didn’t matter what problem you had, there was always someone willing to lend a hand.’ He nodded, ‘Yes I do miss it.’ He reached into the pocket of his huge green fleece, fumbling around in the monogrammed breast pocket for his tobacco. ‘How about you?’
    I took a huge gulp of whisky sour hot coffee and coughed slightly, more to cover the moment of deep melancholy than too much alcohol. ‘More than I ever thought possible.’
    â€˜Don’t worry.’ Geoff leaned over and gave me a hug crinkling his nose at the smell of whisky (at least I hoped it was the whisky and not a lingering odour of ordure). ‘Wait until spring and there’ll be loads of boats for sale and we can get back to where we’re supposed to be.’
    Taking another gulp of coffee, I huffed. ‘Good, let’s hope that we haven’t run out of money by then. I was horrified when they filled the oil tank up and then charged me over six hundred quid.’ I drained my cup and getting to my feet reached out a hand to pull Geoff to his. ‘Come on, let’s go to bed, I’m sure I’m going to dream of cows.’
    Geoff grabbed my hand and pulled me back down into his lap. ‘They’re better than rats,’ he grinned and wriggled a finger between my ribs making me scream. ‘At least cows don’t eat through your rope lockers, raid your bins and make nests in the woodpile, leaping out at you, screaming and gnashing their teeth when you go for some kindling.’
    Just for a moment I had a strange mental image of a cow nest in a woodpile, then, deciding I had had more than enough whisky I slapped his hand away and got to my feet. ‘Nah, I’ll take the rats any day, much quieter, listen to that racket.’ We both fell silent, the cows could be heard still screaming their heads off at the top of the yard. (Probably laughing at the woman they’d caught in their poo.)
    â€˜Time for bed.’ Geoff heaved himself to his feet and wandered over to put the guard on the fire.
    â€˜I’ve always hated cows.’ I grabbed the mugs and headed out with them to turn the lights off in the kitchen. ‘I’ve never really trusted them, they look sweet with those big eyes and those wet pink huffing noses, but I’ve always felt that they are far too curious for ‘our’ own good.’
    As we climbed into bed I reached over to turn the light off. Geoff gave me a huge hug and a big slobbery kiss then almost immediately fell asleep. I lay awake for a long time, positive I could still smell cow poo and listening to the non-stop mooing that echoed around the farmyard, muted only slightly by the ever-increasing snow.
    I really didn’t care what people were like all over the country I just wanted my neighbours back, Charlie and Dion, Disco Steve, Grumpy Lewis, Steve, Jude and the kids. The house next door was occupied but they had been away since we moved in and I had yet to meet them. I yawned and snuggled down into the warm Geoff-filled space. Maybe I was being unfair, maybe they would be fine. As consciousness drifted away on my cow-filled dreams, I was ready to see what the next five months would bring.

Chapter Two
In Bed, No One Can Hear You Scream
    I AWOKE THE NEXT morning to that strange dead stillness that only thick snow can create, no birds and – wonder of wonders – no cows, no sound from the road, just that odd anticipation in the air. I lay there for about twenty minutes enjoying the warm bed before a blood curdling scream sent me up into the air like a cat that has