Free Kitty's Countryside Dream by Christie Barlow Page B

and I risked a glance. He looked upset.
    â€˜I’m feeling a little sad this morning, Kitty. I’ve been up since the crack of dawn scouring every barn, every hay bale, but I still can’t find her.’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜Dotty – she’s disappeared.’
    â€˜Granny’s favourite chicken?’
    â€˜Yes, she vanished yesterday from the yard and no one has seen hide nor feather of her. I’ll be deeply upset if the fox has got her.’
    I nodded. ‘I’ll have a look about for her.’
    I felt so despondent about the double-date situation that it was good to have a distraction, though I didn’t like the thought that Dotty was missing. I began to hurry over to the furthest barn in search of her.
    â€˜Hang on. Before you go …’
    My heart lifted. This was the second he would look deep into my eyes and tell me he’d made a mistake – he didn’t really want to wine and dine supermodel Jeannie but preferred average Kitty; it was me he wanted to whisk off on a date.
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜Can you feed the chickens in the bottom paddock? The food’s in the stable. Fill up all the red feeders then let the chickens out of the coop to roam around the field.’
    My eyes were now blurred with the ambush of tears. Trying to ignore the queasy feeling in my stomach, I turned and walked away from Tom, up the yard. He still wanted to date supermodel Jeannie. Of course he did.
    Trudging towards the field, I wiped the tears from my eyes. Kitty Lewis, you need to get a grip of yourself – whatever will be will be. Concentrate on your work and throw yourself into the business. Do not fling yourself at the first man you have a crush on. It didn’t matter how many times I gave myself a good talking to, I still felt devastated.
    Arriving at the bottom paddock, there was a right old racket sounding out from every henhouse.
    â€˜Bwok, bwok, bwok, bwok.’
    Swiftly climbing over the rickety old fence, I moved towards the houses, panic beginning to take over. The chickens sounded like they were distressed.
    Feeling flustered, I decided I would free the chickens first then locate the food from the stables, as per Tom’s instructions.
    Wrapping my fingers around the chains, I pulled. The doors to the coops were unleashed, flinging them wide open. Peering back at me were hundreds of alert orange eyes, sitting above light coloured beaks. Collectively those beaks looked lethal. All the hens were identical, each with a smooth rosy face, small red earlobes and an attractive mixture of browns and blacks with a beetle-green sheen to their feathers.
    In a synchronised hop from their perches, the chickens were soon happily foraging around outside in the grass.
    Mission chicken was so far successful.
    Hurrying towards the stables, I found the huge sacks of chicken pellets leaning against the back wall. Inside each sack was a scoop. If I was going to wander back and forth with a small scoop it would take me forever to load up the trays with their food. Using my initiative, I hunted around the stable for a bucket. Finding one, I filled it to the brim with pellets and sauntered back out to the field.
    Crouching down and squeezing myself between the slats of the wooden fence, I swung my bucket of feed and headed for the red feeding trays.
    All of a sudden there was an eerie silence around me, not one bwok, not one cluck and not one cock-a-doodle-doo.
    Swiftly swinging my head around to look, I saw thousands of chickens standing still, their beady orange eyes locked in my direction. An uneasy feeling swept through my entire body.
    I took a step forward.
    The chickens also shunted forward in my direction.
    I took another step forward.
    They copied.
    I picked up my pace and then began to run like hell towards the feeders whilst glancing backwards over my shoulder.
    In a Jurassic Park-style moment, a thought flashed through my mind: I was stranded on a tropical island in an