Christmas for Beginners - Carole Matthews Page 0,101

they frequently do. Our students don’t need sex education. They just watch this lot getting it on. But must they do it now? In front of a crowd? Do they sense that love is in the air and it’s made them feel a bit romantic too? Heaven only knows. They could do it in the privacy of their own pen when everyone’s gone home. But, no. Instead, we are treating our unsuspecting guests to an alpaca orgy. The noise of the three of them at it is ear-splitting. If this was going on in a hotel room next to yours, you’d be ringing the front desk to complain.

They bounce around in the straw. The stable is knocked over, as is Baby Jesus’s crib. The press photographer steps forward and rattles off a dozen shots. Oh, Lord. I dash forward and shoot into the pen to try and grab them. In my haste, I commit the sin of all sins. I leave the gate open.

As I grab the alpacas and try to disentangle them, everyone else makes a break for it. The sheep spill out into the yard, followed by the donkeys. Buzz Lightyear, not being one to miss a chance of escape, also makes a bolt for it. The other ponies follow suit, red ribbons flowing in the breeze. Instantly, the farmyard is in chaos.

‘Stop them!’ I shout.

Our visitors dive this way and that, holding on to marauding sheep for all they’re worth. Even Christian in his sparkly Santa outfit has a go. The donkeys, over-excited, bray at the top of their voices. Which, on the plus side, helps to drown out the sounds of over-enthusiastic courting alpacas. The press photographer is having a field day.

I see Bev, Lucas and Matt calmly taking control in the yard, while I try to regain some sort of order in here. I manage to grab their halters and stop the alpacas doing . . . er . . . what alpacas like to do.

‘Oh, Rod,’ I say. ‘How could you?’

He looks at me in quite a lascivious manner. All comers are clearly looking attractive to him. Once they start, it’s a hell of a job to stop them.

But stop them we finally do. With the help of our visitors, the sheep, goats, donkeys and ponies are rounded up. I’m mortified that our day has ended like this but, in the yard, there’s much laughter and camaraderie. Everyone is saying how much they enjoyed getting involved and, apparently, found our shagging alpacas ‘endearing’. I don’t understand humans, really I don’t.

So when we’ve got all the animals back to where they should be, our crowd of well-wishers drift away home. We’ve no cakes or crafts left for sale, the stalls have been stripped. Our buckets are full and jingling. We’ve had offers of support, people asking if they can volunteer and even enquires about taking on new students.

I’m stunned.

Chapter Sixty-Six

The yard seems weirdly still after everyone has gone and the animals are settled again. Peace has returned. I kiss Christian goodbye as he dashes off for his swanky party and thank him for his efforts. He’s kept a constant queue of children very happy with Santa selfies.

Bev and I pull some deckchairs round the Christmas tree. I made the right call in putting aside some cakes and mince pies for us as a celebration, and I set them out on a picnic table that’s been pressed into service. There’s a crate of beer chilling and Bev is already dishing out the last of the mulled wine, cider and hot apple juice.

She hands a juice to me and we clink cups together. I flop down into one of the chairs with a contented sigh. Open days, I’ve decided, are exhausting – but worth it as we seem to have buckets of cash. A job for tomorrow is to total it all up.

Lucas has brought some blankets from the caravan and I wrap myself up against the cold. I’m pleased to see that Penny and Jess have stayed behind and that Lucas is being very solicitous towards them. They both have a chair and blankets and he’s getting them a drink. He might have his moments but, on the whole, he’s a good lad. Despite the fact that Aurora isn’t here, he looks very chipper. Penny is bathing in his attention.

‘Well done, Molly.’ Bev sits beside me and pats my knee in a motherly way. ‘You survived.’

‘Next time you have the bright idea of throwing our doors