if I have a hangover without having had the pleasure of getting that way. There’s a bitter taste in my mouth.
It took me ages to get to sleep after Shelby had gone. I don’t think I’ve ever had a row like that before, and it’s shaken me. After many years in the romantic wilderness, I trusted Shelby implicitly with my love and feel I’ve had it thrown back in my face.
Dick the Cock is, for once, heralding the dawn and I peer out of my caravan window to see a landscape covered with a sugar coating of frost. The sunrise is a beautiful display of pastel pink sun and lilac-purple clouds. I let the dogs sleep on the bed last night as an act of defiance and they snuggle closer, reluctant for me to get up and disturb them. I also let them sleep with me as I needed a cuddle. In all forms of crisis, they are reliable with their comfort.
I didn’t manage to talk properly with Lucas last night. He locked himself in his bedroom and refused to come out despite my entreaties through the closed door. What a mess.
Despite our domestic upsets, we’ll have to get on with it as we have a busy day ahead of us. Bev has invited a local mental health charity to bring a group of their members and walk around the fields with the animals. This is another new fund-raising venture for us and it fills me with trepidation too. The last thing we need is one of the alpacas tipping someone who’s already suffering from depression into the pond. I agreed to this! What was I thinking? I hope they all behave.
When I manage to stagger up and out of bed, Lucas is already at the table in the living room, angrily bashing his laptop. It seems that his rage has not subsided.
‘Good material?’ I say to him by way of greeting.
‘Total knob,’ he says and, from his pallor, I know that Lucas has also stayed awake half the night brooding. This is all too tragic. An argument should never have sparked so quickly, and it’s spoiled what should have been a memorable evening for Lucas. I wonder if he’ll ever risk bringing Aurora here again. I do hope so.
‘Are you all right?’
‘No,’ Lucas says. ‘But I’ll live.’
‘I’m sorry last night ended like that. She seems like a lovely girl.’
‘Huh,’ is all Lucas says. Now is not the time to try to draw him on the subject. We both know what went wrong.
I could swing for Shelby. Yet still my instinct is to phone him and check that he’s OK. My heart says that I should apologise, but my head says it wasn’t me who was in the wrong. I’ll talk to Bev first; she’s more worldly in these ways than I am. In the meantime, despite my heavy heart, I have animals to feed who don’t care if I’ve had a lovers’ tiff and am feeling utterly wretched.
I dress and go out to the barn and Lucas trails after me, face like thunder. I fear it’s going to be a long day.
‘We’ve got the people for the mental health outreach in today,’ I remind him. ‘Are you going to help us?’
‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Just tell me what you want doing.’ But his voice is flat and his body language is projecting extreme reluctance.
We set to with our morning tasks and, despite both Lucas and me being on auto-pilot, the animals don’t care. They’re still inordinately pleased to see us – albeit because we’re bearing buckets of food. It’s not long before they work their magic, and after I’ve fussed and fed the alpacas, pigs, sheep and bunnies, I’m feeling in a much better place. Lucas is whistling softly to himself, so I hope that means he is too.
It’s not long before Bev and Alan arrive. And this is how upset Lucas and I are – we haven’t even discussed what their matching band T-shirts might be today. They are both sporting a picture of The Cure, if you’d like to know.
Lucas says, ‘I’ve no clue who the band are, but I really like that bloke’s hair and make-up.’
‘Robert Smith, style icon,’ Bev informs us.
Lucas looks suitably impressed. I can see the guy-liner coming out later. That might cheer him up.
Bev gives me a hug. ‘You two both look like you were on the razzle-dazzle-do last night.’
‘Hardly,’ I say. ‘We didn’t have our best evening ever, did we, Lucas?’
‘No,’ he