Christmas for Beginners - Carole Matthews Page 0,54

violent cycle, for the sake of herself and the sake of her daughter.

Chapter Thirty-Two

I worry about Penny for the rest of the day and it’s only the fact that I have my own issues to deal with that makes me put those thoughts to one side.

As I can delay it no longer, I raise the matter of attending Shelby’s panto with Lucas. The night has drawn in and the temperature has dropped. Nevertheless, we’re in the barn and he’s taken it upon himself to cut the alpacas’ toenails before we put them to bed. You’d think he was trying to murder them, given the fuss they’re making.

Tina Turner’s already been done and is sulking in the corner. Now I’m holding Johnny Rotten’s bitey end while Lucas deals with his hind legs. This is no one’s favourite job.

‘Calm down now,’ Lucas coos as he tries to keep a firm hold on a wriggly alpaca. ‘It will all be over in a moment.’

Johnny howls with indignation. There are many, many things that alpacas don’t like doing and standing on three legs is one of them.

‘This is for your own good,’ I add.

Our bad boy of the alpacas is having none of it. He kicks out and hisses.

‘To think I could be a record producer,’ Lucas says flatly.

‘There’s still time,’ I tell him. ‘You’re young enough and bright enough to do whatever you want.’

‘You sound like my father.’

‘That’s no bad thing.’ Then I take a deep breath. ‘Speaking of which . . .’

Lucas scowls at me as he manoeuvres the nail clippers.

‘It’s his opening night on Wednesday and he’s invited us both to go and watch the panto and then attend the after-show party.’

‘I’d rather be stuck in a lift for two days with nothing but the soundtrack from Frozen playing,’ Lucas says.

I can’t tell him that I feel pretty much the same. ‘Don’t dismiss it out of hand. Ken will pick us up, whisk us there and then bring us back afterwards. We don’t have to stay, but I think it would be a nice thing to do. It’s a big step for your dad.’

‘He’s playing the baddie in a frigging panto. Get a grip.’

‘We should be supportive, if we can.’

‘You be supportive. I’m not going.’

‘OK.’ I’ll give him time to think about it overnight and raise it tomorrow.

‘There’s no point raising it again tomorrow. I’m not going.’

I didn’t even say that out loud. Hmm. Am I that predictable? Obviously.

Johnny hops around a bit as Lucas moves to his hind legs. ‘Easy, boy. Easy,’ he says as he settles in to clip the rear nails. ‘The party will consist of warm wine, canapés based on dead animals and a room full of tossers all high on their own self-importance.’

He may have a point.

‘It’s not exactly my favourite way to spend an evening,’ I remind him. ‘But sometimes we have to do things for the ones we love.’

‘You might have to,’ Lucas says. ‘I don’t.’

Johnny kicks out and skitters away from Lucas, so I tie his halter to the fence and jump into the pen. I lean my weight against Johnny’s back end to stop him bouncing away and try to soothe him as I do.

For my trouble he stamps on my big toe. ‘Ouch. Thanks for that, John!’ That will be another toenail lost for me. Seems to be a regular occurrence. I’ll have to enter him in the accident book – again.

Lucas moves in once more and this time Johnny deigns to lift his leg so that Lucas can reach his toes.

‘You’re a stubborn old cuss,’ Lucas murmurs to him. ‘You know this will feel better when it’s done.’

And we do them every couple of months, so it’s not as if it’s something new. After a few minutes of wrangling and some swift clipping, Lucas pats his rump. ‘All done. There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’

Johnny has one last defiant kick out, but misses us both.

So we change animals and begin subjecting Rod Stewart to the ignominy of an alpaca pedicure. Lucas takes a firm grip and I move to the front to scratch his neck to distract him. Time for a change of subject with Lucas too. There’s only so far you can push alpacas and teenagers.

‘You seem to get on well with the mayor.’

‘He’s not a dickhead and he likes poetry. Not poncy dead poets either. Modern stuff.’

‘It’s nice that you have something in common.’ A pause while he swears under his breath at Rod. ‘How’s the poem