or feathers. When they arrive they’re in a terrible state – devoid of plumage and hope – and require a lot of nurturing.
Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I catch the occasional glimpse of Phantom – our feral farmyard cat with half a face who lives in the barn. Occasionally, I’ll see him skulking along the hedge or sitting in the rafters. I’ve given up trying to tempt him into contact with cat food as he seems to prefer surviving on the rodents he catches – and I’m glad to have such an energetic mouser as he saves me a fortune in pest control. We didn’t adopt Phantom, he chose us to move in with. Neither I nor the vet have managed to get close enough to him to manage a proper examination. He must have had a road traffic accident or something to cause the loss of his face and he walks with a goose step. Occasionally, I’ll see him having a fit in the barn, but I daren’t approach. He always seems to recover and, despite his issues, he seems in reasonable shape. I just wish he’d let me get closer to him.
As I’m checking our pygmy goats, one of our students comes wandering into the barn. Penny is one of our newer arrivals and has a very difficult home life. She sidles up beside me and stares over the fence at Dumb and Dumber.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Thought you were helping Lucas?’ Like most of the teenage girls we have here, she likes Lucas – a lot.
‘I’m too tired.’
None of them particularly like mucking out and some will do anything to get out of it – which is fine – but I can tell that Penny’s not trying to pull the wool over my eyes. There are shadows like bruises under her eyes and her face is paler than normal. She does look exhausted and world-weary.
‘Lucas said you were in the barn and to come and find you.’
‘What can I help with?’
She shrugs at me.
‘Trouble at home?’
‘Yeah. Usual.’
Penny’s father likes to use her mother as a punchbag and, when it gets too bad, Penny’s disruptive at school or, if that doesn’t work, she runs away. Who can blame her? Would you want to live like that? Her father is a management consultant and her mother works for a small double-glazing company in the local town who don’t seem to mind her frequent absences due to her ‘clumsiness’. They live in a nice home with a manicured lawn and dark secrets. Bev goes along to the meetings with social services and tries to explain that it’s not Penny who’s the root of the problem. We have her for three days a week, so we do our best to pick up the pieces and be kind to her.
Penny looks so lost and lonely that it breaks my heart. I want to scoop up all these waifs and strays and hold them close. Some people just don’t deserve the kids that they’re blessed with.
‘You could do my rounds with me,’ I say. ‘If you want to.’ Little Dog bares his teeth in his mad grin. ‘He’d like it.’
Penny bends to fuss his ears and I see a solitary tear fall. ‘OK.’
So, I put my arm rounds her insubstantial shoulders and we head off towards the fields.
Chapter Five
Penny and I climb over the stile which is set into a thick hawthorn hedge. The dogs squeeze through a low gap in the hedge and are already running ahead of us, sniffing at the grass, the trees, tails wagging. Occasionally, they come back to herd Penny and me, to make sure that we’re following. They must walk twice as far as us.
Away from the shelter of the farm buildings, we’re treated to the full extent of the crisp, cold day. There’s freezing mist hanging over the ground, but I love a good walk on a fresh and bracing winter’s day.
‘Warm enough?’ I ask Penny.
‘Yeah.’ But she shivers slightly, so I take off my scarf and she winds it round her neck.
‘Better?’
A grateful nod, a ghost of a smile.
This really is an idyllic spot of Buckinghamshire’s finest countryside. We have gently rolling hills which take us down to a narrow ribbon of river, fringed with weeping willows, that meanders through the land. There’s an ancient wood to the right hand side and, at the far end of our area, we have a large pond surrounded by trees. Bev wants to introduce walks with our animals for people