good idea.’
‘I suppose you’ll want me to come with you.’
‘I’d like that.’
He tuts and puffs, ‘Some things never change.’
But I can tell he doesn’t mean it.
Lucas and I go to the barn and do a tour of the animals. Instantly, my melancholy is lifted, my soul soothed. The alpacas are all present and correct, straw sticking out of their mad pom-pom hair, contentedly humming in unison. How can you stay cross or upset with these guys around? The animals are constant and have no care for whatever drama might be occurring in our lives. They just want food and attention. I stroke Johnny Rotten’s neck and he tries to have a sly nip at my elbow. All is as it should be.
We walk on to the sheep, both Lucas and I falling into our well-trodden path. We have a look at our mum-to-be, Fluffy. ‘She’s getting huge,’ I note. ‘The vet said she might give us a Christmas baby.’
Lucas looks at me and there is sadness in his eyes. I assume he’s thinking of his own baby that never was.
‘You OK?’
‘Yeah.’ He tries to pull a philosophical expression, but doesn’t quite cut it. ‘I wish things had turned out differently, but it is what it is.’
‘Your time will come and you’ll appreciate it all the more.’ I don’t know if that will comfort him, but I hope so.
‘I don’t wish her ill,’ he says. ‘Aurora. I hope it works out with this bloke. Kind of. For the kid’s sake.’
It’s not the ideal situation to be bringing a child into, but I keep my counsel. ‘I hope so, too.’
Anthony is obviously feeling less anti-social than usual as he comes over to say hello. It could, however, be the bucket of food that Lucas is carrying that lures him in. As a reward, our anti-social sheep gets a handful of our special mix. In contrast, Lucas’s reward is Anthony pushing his head through the gate and trying to headbutt him in the nether regions.
‘Bad sheep,’ I admonish.
‘True to form,’ Lucas notes and we leave Anthony thwarted but still with an evil glint in his eye.
We check on the bunny run and they’re all OK. Ant and Dec are nestled happily together in their huge hutch. The hens have gone into their shelter for the night. Fifty and Teacup are already snuggled up in their pen, content in each other’s company. I can relax knowing that my beloved animals are safe and well – and, in some cases, as feisty as ever.
Calling the dogs to heel from the four corners of the yard, Lucas and I climb over the stile into the field. Lucas holds out his hand to help me down, when he normally wouldn’t do that at all. He’s being very solicitous today and I don’t know if it’s because he knows that Shelby going away is a blow, but it’s nice whatever the reason.
The fields are already blanketed with snow and it looks so beautiful sparkling in the moonlight. A winter wonderland, indeed. It’s bitterly cold, but the night air is still without a hint of breeze and our walk is bracing. Thank goodness that Sweeney and Carter are already in their stables in the yard and the ponies are beside them in a covered pen. Betty Bad Dog snuffles along, snout buried in the snow, occasionally making herself sneeze violently.
‘Dozy mutt,’ Lucas murmurs with a laugh.
‘She’ll never learn,’ I agree.
We walk on in silence, until I risk venturing, ‘Penny’s very nice.’
‘Yeah.’
‘You seem to be getting on well with her.’
‘Stop that now,’ Lucas instructs. ‘Don’t even go there.’
Damn. I hoped that he would be feeling mellow enough to confide in me. So, not wanting to spoil our current closeness, I drop the topic. All I’ll say is watch this space.
Chapter Eighty-Two
It’s Christmas Day and I wake at four in the morning. I can tell from the crisp feel of the air, the muffled weight of the sound, that a lot more snow has fallen overnight. I budge the dogs over and push myself up in bed to look out of the caravan window. Sure enough, the yard is deep with snow and I feel a thrill of excitement.
Then my phone rings and I answer it.
‘Hi.’
It’s Shelby on the other end of the line. Who else would it be at this hour?
‘I’m at the airport.’ His voice sounds strained, anxious.
‘Was it OK getting there?’
‘Yes, yes.’ His tone is dismissive.
‘I thought the snow might have hampered you.’
‘The motorway was clear enough.’ It’s