E PILOGUE
T he Summer Bazaar was a roaring success. It raised thousands of pounds for the sanctuary, enough to keep us afloat through the coming winter. There was a palpable sense of achievement from the volunteers afterward, as theyd seen people flock to support the animals because of all their hard work. It was a golden moment in time, a rare point where I could breathe and feel that Id finally shaken off my troubles, and those of the constant demands of the site, even for just a few months.
Just then there was a bark, and Harry and Ben loped over to me as I fed one of the pigs a loaf of bread at the back of my garden Theyd run off and circled the land during our walk, and they returned with gusto: tails wagging, tongues lolling out of their mouths as they panted with exertion. Three fine, handsome dogs. I was a proud owner indeed that morning. Gabby rolled in the grass with the retriever and the spaniel and, as I grinned over at them, I reflected again that whatever help Id given my funny Yorkie cross, shed repaid me a million times over. The last few months had been bleak. There was no denying itshe had gotten me through all of it. Id faced my own demons and come out the other side.
She was now a fully formed proper dog. She could play, bark, and go outside to go to the toilet. She played with abandon; there was no hint of the cowering beast that had turned up that fateful day. As if in answer to my thoughts, Gabby barked at Ben as they tussled, and my happiness bloomed inside me, swelling my chest to bursting.
Gazing out over the fields that looked almost purple in the mist, I knew Id never give up the sanctuary. I recognized that my doubts had been the product of the short depression that had followed my illness. Thats all they were, just rogue thoughts that had seeded in my brain at a time I felt vulnerable and in pain.
The charitys future would always be unsure. Everything would carry on depending upon my gargantuan fund-raising efforts, and I couldnt rest for a moment. There was the forthcoming Christmas Bazaar to think about and plan for...
Back at the house later that day, the phone rang. Hello, this is Barby. Can I help you?
A woman was sobbing at the other end of the phone.
We have to rehome our cat. It pees everywhere, and weve tried everything. You have to take her today, we cant cope and theres a baby on the way...
I sighed, saying, Okay, dear. Does it have to be today?
Im sorry, but yes, the woman said.
Babies were all very well, but why did people feel they had to give up their pets at the same time? The cat obviously either had a medical problem or was reacting to some stresses at home. I heard the resolve in the womans voice and knew I shouldnt push her. Some people couldnt wait, they rang at breaking point, and might dump the animal somewhere if we didnt step in. Despite that, I wondered, not for the first time, at the ability of people to forget that animals are just as sensitive and in need of care as humans.
Okay, Ill hand you over to Diane, who will help you, dear, I said, handing the phone to Di.
Barby, are you there? It was Dan this time. You need to come and see this pig, hes a beauty. Another Saddleback we need to find space for.
Alright, Im coming. Let me just get my vest on.
I looked around at the people going to and fro outside, Dan my trusty farm manager standing by the back door, Diane with the phone tucked under her chin as she wrote down information about the cat, and I felt a sense of utter contentment wash over me.
Time for walkies again, Gabby. Now, wait there, gorgeous girl, while I fetch the lead, I said, whistling for the dog, which was a pointless gesture as she was always by my side.
Today, as I sit feeding a baby seagull that was brought to the sanctuary by a member of the public who found it abandoned by the roadside, I know it is a privilege to be of service, as I am every day. I tip tiny amounts of milk into the chicks mouth using a teaspoon, while Gabby sits by my chair, a look of intense concentration on her face. She is gentle with the newcomers, generally sniffing them, knowing to leave them alone while they are nurtured back to health. For someone who has no patience with people, I have endless endurance with creatures such as this seagull, its gawping mouth trembling as I spoon in the liquid.
Just then, Dan poked his head around the kitchen door.
Weve got a holy cow coming in today, I just thought Id let you know.
A holy cowwhat on earth? I say to him, bursting out laughing.
I thought youd like that. Its not a joke. A Hindu organization in London is coming down today with a white cow that they rescued from a city farm thats shutting down. The best thing is weve decided to have a traditional ceremony, and theyre bringing us saris and bindis to wear. Youll probably be garlanded in flowers as well!
I shrugged.
If they want to parade me with flowers and silks, then Im not complaining.
I spooned another mouthful of milk into the seagulls mouth. He was standing inside the cardboard box in which hed been handed to us. It looked like his wing had been injured, so he was going straight to the vet as soon as hed had some nourishment.
Seriously though, Barby. Youll need to dress in a sari and wear a bindido you think you can do that? Dan grinned, pushing his specs up onto his nose.
I smiled in response.
Anything for an animal. Ill do anything, just like Ive always done.
Chapter 1
N EW A RRIVALS
T he day dawned with bright summer light that glowed across the fields, the enclosures, and the landscape that surrounded us. Though we were only a short distance from the town center, it felt like we were a million miles away on mornings like this. Apart from the electricity transmission lines that sliced through the land, it was a rural idyll, and it felt like we were somehow apart from civilization. The backdrop to my life was the rolling, undulating Sussex countryside, and, of course, the sanctuary land that sheltered and housed animals of every description. I breathed in the smell of summer, that indefinable scent of flowers and grass, which mixed with the familiar sanctuary aroma of fresh straw, dry fur, and mud.
I yawned. The residents of the sanctuary had started their waking rituals at 4 A.M .: the roosters crowed as they struck their funny poses around the yard, the pigs grunted, the horses brayed in the back fields, the goats and sheep bleated for their breakfast. Then there were the dogs barking in the kennels, desperate for a walk, and the noise from the assorted ducks, geese, chickens, and seagulls that also resided here. Their squawks, clucks, honks, and screeches joined the cacophony, making me smile. It was just another day at the Animal Sanctuary.
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