Little Donkey

Book 0: Frogmorton Farm Series

by Jodi Taylor

Genres: Humorous Fantasy

Synopsis

A Frogmorton Farm short story. Catch up with the characters from Jodi Taylor's bestselling novel, The Nothing Girl, as they navigate the complexities of the local nativity play in their own, unique fashion. It's Christmas and Jenny Checkland is beset with problems. The Vicar, who really should know better, has asked to borrow Marilyn the donkey for the nativity play thereby unleashing chaos on the already chaos-laden Frogmorton Farm. Will Marilyn survive her bath? Will anyone survive Marilyn's bath? Robbed of her role as the Virgin Mary, what revenge is the Angel Gabriel plotting? Why is that sheep so fat? Will Charlie ever get to say his one line? Can Marilyn be prevented from eating the Baby Jesus? Where is Thomas, who promised he would be there? And worst of all - will Russell, lost on the moor in a blizzard, make it back in time for the birth of his first child? Or even at all? Readers love Jodi Taylor: 'I haven't met a Jodi Taylor book I didn't love, they get you right in the feels' 'Has you laughing and crying in equal measure ' 'Beautifully written, captivating and witty ' 'A surprising gem of a book'

Release date: January 1, 2019

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 37

Sample

‘And so, Mrs Checkland,’ said the vicar, finishing his preamble and second cup of tea simultaneously, ‘I was wondering if we could possibly borrow your dear little donkey?’

Behind him, our housekeeper, Mrs Crisp, turned from stirring something on the stove. She stared in amazement, opened her mouth to say something, caught my eye, and changed her mind. Her ladle dripped, unheeded, onto her spotless kitchen floor.

At the other end of the kitchen table, Kevin and Sharon were still grappling with the dimension-defying chaotic tangle that our Christmas lights and tinsel together had somehow managed to achieve during the eleven and a half months they’d been stored under the stairs. They also stared at him. In the silence, we could clearly hear the cat snoring, belly-up in front of the range. In deference to the vicar’s religious sensibilities, Mrs Crisp had covered certain areas with a strategic tea towel.

Nobody spoke and I realised, with no sense of surprise, that it was up to me again. These days, I’m almost completely OK with talking. There’s just a slight stutter every now and then, especially if I’m tired or upset. Today, it was surprise that tripped me up.

‘I’m … sorry, Mr Wivenhoe, you want to … borrow our donkey?’

He put down his mug and smiled at me, wispy white hair curling around his head, beaming like a cherub. ‘Yes, yes, Mrs Checkland. That’s right. We usually go to the donkey sanctuary, of course, but our usual donkey, Jonquil, has a nasty cough this year and they don’t want to let her out in the cold, so they recommended we try Mr Checkland. I’ve been trying to telephone him for days, but, my goodness, he’s a busy man, isn’t he, so I thought I’d call and ask in person, which is a much more polite way of going about things. And here I am. Borrowing your donkey. Just for an afternoon, of course. And quite honestly, after the … the … debacle of last year, we really need all the help we can get.’

I clutched wildly at a straw. ‘Debacle?’

He sighed as Mrs Crisp topped up his tea and placed another slice of lemon drizzle cake in front of him. ‘I succumbed.’

‘To what?’ And realised, too late, that wasn’t the most tactful question in the universe. Should one enquire about the temptation of vicars?

‘I was against it from the start, but I have to say they made a very strong case and I really thought it would attract a younger audience. Sadly, of course, it did nothing of the kind.’

I stared, bewildered. Not for the first time, I really wished my husband was here. If he answered his phone, or even just spent some time at home occasionally, then I wouldn’t have to do this. We had been married for two years now and right from the start, Russell had established a strong tradition of never being around when needed. I was pregnant, for heaven’s sake. I should be cosily tucked up somewhere warm and comfortable, while people brought me tea and cake.

I waited for Thomas to tell me tha. . .