TRISHA ASHLEY
Creature Comforts
Copyright
Avon
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2015
Copyright © Trisha Ashley 2015
Cover design © www.alicemooredesign.com
Cover photograph © Lucy Grossmith/www.heart-to-art.com
Trisha Ashley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9781847562791
Ebook Edition © February 2015 ISBN: 9780007580446
Version: 2018-04-10
Dedication
For my dear friends and fellow authors, Mary de Laszlo and Norma Curtis, with love.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue: Halfhidden, West Lancashire, 1993
Chapter 1: All Fools Day, 2012
Chapter 2: Fault Lines
Chapter 3: Moving Pictures
Chapter 4: Desperate Dogs
Chapter 5: Hounded
Chapter 6: Water Cure
Chapter 7: Regeneration
Chapter 8: Haunting
Chapter 9: Disconnected
Chapter 10: Sparks
Chapter 11: Charming
Chapter 12: Reverse Alchemy
Chapter 13: Disengaged
Chapter 14: Sweetwell
Chapter 15: Mission Statement
Chapter 16: Howling Hetty
Chapter 17: Dog Daze
Chapter 18: Lucky Charm
Chapter 19: Ghosting
Chapter 20: Not So Dusty
Chapter 21: Treasured
Chapter 22: Grimside
Chapter 23: Hidden Hoards
Chapter 24: Close Encounters
Chapter 25: Bird of Passage
Chapter 26: Skulduggery
Chapter 27: Night Passage
Chapter 28: Romantic Comedy
Chapter 29: Floating
Chapter 30: Blighters
Chapter 31: The Stars in Our Eyes
Chapter 32: Stopped
Chapter 33: Dream on
Chapter 34: Old Haunts
Chapter 35: Photo Finish
Recipes
Keep Reading
Acknowledgements
About the Author
By the Same Author
About the Publisher
Prologue: Halfhidden, West Lancashire, 1993
That evening, Baz Salcombes old Range Rover, which was mainly used by his teenage son, Harry, and his friends, passed through the stone gateposts of the Sweetwell estate and paused briefly in the blackest of shadows by the turn to the Lodge, before pursuing an unsteady course up the dark, tree-lined tunnel of the drive.
The road beyond the first sharp bend first hunched itself up and then dipped deeply into a hollow, but either the driver had forgotten that or was recklessly convinced that the car would fly over it, for it suddenly leaped forward with a roar then the brake lights flashed and it swerved, flipping sideways into the trees with an almighty crash.
The ominous sound, together with the incessant blaring of the jammed horn, carried as far as the Lodge and set off a cacophony of barking from Debo Danes Desperate Dogs Refuge. Judy Almond, her friend and housekeeper, who was starting out for the local pub to collect Debos niece, Izzy, stopped dead with the car keys in her hand, heart racing.
Tom Tamblyn was halfway down the woodland path that led to his cottage by the Lady Spring when he heard the crash, but Dan Clew, Baz Salcombes gardener, was first on the scene, for hed been so close by that he actually felt the resonance of the impact through the soles of his feet. Arriving at a run, he found the crumpled car lying on its side in a thick tangle of old trees, wheels still spinning and the headlights blazing out at a crazy angle.
The uppermost doors had burst open and, to his great relief, he saw his son Simon climb out and then stagger up the bank, where he slumped with his head in his hands. A girl was screaming hysterically and even before Dan had fished out a torch from his pocket and investigated, he guessed it would be Cara Ferris, the local vets daughter.
Cara, her face masked with blood from a deep cut, was already frantically scrambling out of the back seat and it looked as though shed had a lucky escape, for a branch had impaled the car from front to back, as if preparing to spit-roast it.
Dan moved the torch beam to the front and could see at a glance that his bosss son, Harry, had taken the brunt of the collision and there was nothing to be done and the girl slumped next to him had a bad head injury and didnt look in much better shape. He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder as if to check for any sign of other rescuers, before reaching in and gathering up her small, slight form.
Tom Tamblyn was just in time to see Dan lift the unconscious figure out of the front of the car, before laying it down on a bit of flat turf next to the drive.
Is that young Izzy Dane? Tom gasped, still panting for breath, for he was somewhat beyond the age of sprinting up steep paths. Eeh, she looks bad and you shouldnt have moved her with that head injury, Dan.
Thought Id better in case the car goes up theres an almighty stink of petrol, Dan said shortly, looking up. She was in the front with Harry and they had the worst of it my lad and the Ferris girl were in the back and got themselves out.
He nodded at Izzy. If you think she looks bad, you should see Harry.
Like that, is it? Tom got out his own torch, took a look inside the car, and came back, shaking his head.
Poor lad, he said. But hes in the passenger seat so are you saying young Izzy was driving? Shes not old enough to have her licence yet. He took off his old tweed jacket and laid it over the still figure on the grass, after checking her airways were clear and she still had a pulse.
She was in the front next to Harry its clear enough what happened.
Your Simon always drives them back from the pub, though, doesnt he? Tom said. On account of being teetotal.
Not this time.
This is all Izzys fault! Cara exclaimed hysterically, the wadded hem of her T-shirt held to her bloody face. Shed scrambled up the bank and was sitting next to Simon, who was still slumped with his head in his hands. Im going to be scarred for life and Harry? Her voice rose shrilly. Whats happened to Harry?
It was Howling Hettys ghost that did it! Simon slurred, looking up with a face as milk-pale as any wraith, and then he threw up copiously into the grass next to him, narrowly avoiding Cara.
Tom blanched and said uneasily, Nay, never say youve seen her!
Of course he hasnt! Simon, pull yourself together and ring for help, if you havent already, Dan snapped. Whats the matter with you?
Teetotaller or not, hes drunk, Tom said, fishing a mobile phone the size of a brick out of his trouser pocket and dialling 999.
Id better go down to the Lodge and tell them Dan stopped, glancing at Izzy, still lying unconscious on the grass.
No need, theyll have heard that damned horn and be here any second, Tom said. The whole of Halfhidden will have heard it.
And he was right, for the sound echoing urgently up and down the valley was a siren for a disaster that had ended one young life and would forever change those of the other occupants of the car that night, but most especially Izzy Danes.
Chapter 1: All Fools Day, 2012
Izzy just the girl I need, Harry said as I came level with the Range Rover, heading towards the steep path up through the Sweetwell woods to the Lady Spring and beyond it the Lodge, where I lived with my guardian, Aunt Debo, and her friend and housekeeper, Judy.
He was leaning his tall, skinny frame against the open door of the car, as if he might fall down if he didnt and going by the sparkle in his green eyes, hed drunk more than enough for that.
Who, me? I asked, pausing uncertainly.
My recurring dream reran its usual course, a brief video clip of a golden evening and four young lives full of hopes and aspirations.
Harry and his friends had seemed so grown up and sophisticated to my sixteen-year-old eyes. They were all about to go their separate ways: Harry to medical school, and quiet, unassuming Simon to study horticulture at a nearby college, while Cara, whod grown as tall and thin as a beanpole, had only days before been spotted by a top modelling agency and, much to her parents dismay, was poised to turn down her place at Oxford.
I always wished I could hang on to the dream long enough to see exactly what madness made me get behind the wheel of that car, but instead I usually woke suddenly, jerked right out of the past, just as Id been summarily ejected from Heaven when I was in a coma in hospital after the accident
For once, however, the picture dissolved as slowly as morning mist in the sun and I swam back up into wakefulness and the rattle of the ceiling fan in my Mumbai hotel room and the unwelcome memory of the previous nights phone argument with my fiancé, Kieran.