‘I’m sorry, but I live on a bloody farm, I don’t just play at it. What do you want me to do?’
‘Did they come out of the bedroom? That’s my one rule, Molly.’
‘Rule?’
‘The only thing I require of you is that you keep them out of the bedroom. Is that too much to ask?’
Then Betty Good Girl barks, worriedly, at the sound of raised voices and reverts to type. She squats and wees all over Shelby’s shoes. His expensive ones.
Shelby looks down in horror. We both do. His face goes an alarming shade of puce.
‘Betty Bad Dog,’ I say and hurriedly push her out of the caravan, which now smells of dog wee. Little Dog and Big Dog looked perplexed as I push them out too in case there are any further mishaps.
‘Right,’ Shelby says. ‘I’ve had enough.’
‘You frightened her by shouting.’
‘It’s all my fault again? Why did you need another bloody dog? They’re everywhere.’
‘That is a slight exaggeration.’
And, suddenly, we’re in a full-blown argument out of nowhere.
‘I came to surprise you,’ he shouts. ‘Filming has been hell today and I thought it would be a nice thing to do. Instead, I walk in to find my son with a woman I know nothing about and dogs all over the bloody place.’
‘I think you need to calm down,’ I say quietly. ‘This is helping no one. We were having a lovely evening until you turned up.’
‘I can rectify that,’ Shelby spits and he marches into the bedroom, snatches a case from the top shelf of the cupboard and starts to stuff it with his clothes.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Home,’ he says. ‘I can’t stay here any longer. It’s too cramped, too full of dog hair.’
‘I’ll hoover,’ I offer. ‘And I’ll change the bedding. Please don’t leave like this.’
‘I have a perfectly good, pet-free manor house ten minutes down the road. I’m going there. I can’t stand living in such close quarters.’
‘Is this the end for us?’
‘No.’ He calms down a little and breathes deeply before he says, ‘Come with me. We could all move back there. Most women would jump at the chance of that lifestyle.’
‘I’m not most women,’ I remind him. ‘I thought that’s what you liked about me.’
‘I can’t stay,’ Shelby says and there’s a sadness in his voice as if it really is the end and he’s only just realised it.
‘And I can’t come with you.’
‘Then where does that leave us?’
‘You’ll have to decide.’ I sound calmer than I feel. Inside my heart is pounding and my knees are weak. I don’t want Shelby to go, yet I will not beg him to stay.
‘Lucas,’ he shouts. ‘Get your stuff.’
Now I’m horrified. ‘What?’
‘Get your stuff,’ he shouts again.
Lucas appears at the bedroom door. ‘Why are you shouting your mouth off? We’re not your minions on set.’
‘Get your stuff. We’re going back to Homewood Manor.’
‘You might be,’ Lucas says flatly. ‘I’m going nowhere.’
‘You’re my son,’ Shelby points out, needlessly. ‘You do as I say.’
‘No.’ Lucas leans on the door jamb. ‘I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m staying here with Molly.’
‘Look,’ I say. ‘This is all very heated and it doesn’t need to be. Shelby, I’m sorry the dogs were in here, it was a mistake. Also, Lucas is allowed to have friends here without your permission. It wasn’t some master plan or conspiracy to exclude you. It’s just the way it happened. We can arrange another dinner, if Lucas wants that, so you can meet Aurora properly.’
‘I didn’t want him to meet her at all,’ Lucas shouts. ‘You’ve seen what she looks like! He’ll probably want to go out with her!’
Oh, God.
Shelby zips his case closed. ‘I’m clearly not wanted here,’ he says and flounces towards the door.
‘This is ridiculous,’ I say. ‘Let’s all sit down and talk it through.’
I follow Shelby to the door, but I won’t trail after him. He’s across the yard in a nano-second and yanks the gate open.
‘Shelby,’ I shout. ‘Please listen to reason.’
Yet he jumps straight into his car, slamming the door decisively. Turning the Bentley with a screech of wheels on gravel, he shoots off down the lane. He doesn’t close the gate behind him. Cardinal sin.
As Lucas comes to stand by my side, I sigh heavily.
‘He’s a complete and utter tit,’ Lucas says.
At this moment, I can’t really disagree with him. I thought that love had finally found me, but now I’m not so sure.
Chapter Twenty
The next morning, I have a monster headache. It’s as 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 agrees. ‘Mainly due to that tit of a father of mine.’
‘It’s a long story,’ I tell Bev. ‘One best told over a cup of tea.’
‘I’m going to finish off the feed,’ Lucas says. ‘I’ll be up with the horses if you need me when the depressed people arrive.’
‘Lucas,’ I admonish.
He shrugs at me. Political correctness is obviously not high on his agenda today.
‘Come back for a cup of tea as soon as you’re done. It’s cold out.’ I feel as if I want to mollycoddle Lucas which, of course, he pretends to hate. ‘You’ll need some sustenance before we round up the animals for a walk.’
Getting any of them into a harness is always a challenge.
With a quick and cursory ‘morning,’ to no one in particular, Alan disappears into the depths of his workshop where he’s always happiest – though it is hard to tell. I follow Bev into the tea room. The students haven’t yet arrived, so we have time to take a few minutes to have a catch-up. Usually, it’s to do with the day’s activities and not a spectacular nose-dive in my love life.
I sit on a stool at the counter while Bev clatters about with the cups and the kettle, she says, ‘OK, then. Tell Aunty Beverly why you look like you’ve found a pound and lost a fiver.’
I puff out a disgruntled breath before launching in. ‘Lucas brought his girlfriend – who he insists isn’t his girlfriend – home last night for the first time. It had all gone quite well and then Shelby turned up unexpectedly as she was leaving. Within minutes it had all kicked off. Lucas didn’t want her to meet his dad. Shelby said all the wrong things. I was in trouble too for letting the dogs sleep on the bed and, before I knew it, he’d packed his stuff and had stomped off back to the manor house.’
‘No wonder Lucas is fuming,’ she says.
‘I’m treading a fine line between them. Lucas doesn’t want Shelby involved in his life and when Shelby does crash in he makes a complete hash of it. I’m so annoyed that he never learned how to handle his own son.’
‘Or his partner?’
That makes me smile. ‘That too.’
‘Let him stew,’ Bev says as she pushes a mug of builder-strength tea towards me. ‘Don’t you be phoning him.’
‘I hate there being bad feeling between us.’
‘It’s up to him to come and sort this out. He’ll be back with his tail between his legs. Trust me, he won’t be gone for good.’
‘I hope you’re right.’ We owe a lot to Shelby here and I don’t want to lose sight of that.
Bev joins me on the next stool. ‘So Lucas has a girlfriend?’
‘Someone he met at his poetry club. Aurora. But he insists she’s just a friend.’
‘What’s she like?’
‘Very pretty, confident, polite. She’s quite sophisticated. I’m just a little bit worried that she’s a few years older than him, but Lucas is clearly very taken with her.’
‘Oh, bless him.’
‘Yes, they look very cute together.’
‘Ah, young love,’ she coos. ‘There’s nothing like it.’
‘Except finding love when you’re old and think you’re past it.’
‘Are you talking about you or me?’ Bev wants to know.
I laugh. ‘Both of us.’
My friend drains her tea and plonks the mug down. ‘I’d better go and see my lover,’ she says. ‘He’s making some bits for the nativity scene so that it looks more Bethlehem and less Buckinghamshire.’
‘I’ll drop in on him too later. Is it all coming along well? Please reassure me.’
‘It’s all fine and you seemed to be a big hit with our Hot Mayor yesterday. He was putty in your hands.’
‘He seems like a really nice guy.’ But we all know that I’m a terrible judge of people. ‘I hope we see some more of him, as promised.’
Bev kisses my cheek. ‘I’ll leave you to worry about that as you wait for the walkers. As soon as they’re here, they can have a cuppa while we harness the animals. In the meantime, I’ve got a load of tinsel to unload from the back of my car to pretty the place up.’
And worry I do, because until I’ve seen Shelby I won’t know whether or not it’s all over between us.
Chapter Twenty-One
Our morning is busier than usual. The timetable is all upside down for a start, which no one likes – many of our kids rely on the gentle routine we instil here. It takes me much longer than usual to settle our regular students to their lessons before a dozen people arrive for our first mental health walk. The idea is that we all take the animals on a stroll around the farm, giving our visitors a chance to just chat or air their troubles or lose themselves in hanging onto one of our four-legged charges – unless you count Big Dog who only has three legs.
For me, the influx of new people is a good thing. I’m so stretched that I don’t even have time to dwell on Shelby and what he may or may not be thinking.
The visitors have a cup of tea and we get out the good biscuits for them – in date and with chocolate on. Then we harness a few of the animals, which is often a bit of a trial. Today, they are all reasonably compliant – even Johnny Rotten doesn’t bolt when he sees his harness. When we introduce them to our group of eager walkers, none of the animals try to bite or back-heel our visitors. Small mercies.
Bev’s plan is that each of our visitors takes an animal to look after during their walk. When we have the three alpacas on halters, I hand them over to the sturdiest looking blokes, with strict instructions to hang on to them. Given their head, those tinkers will run and run. Then we take the little ponies which Lucas has brought down from the field. They’re generally the most compliant and are always popular with youngsters, so they are given to the more youthful visitors to walk. Lucas also brings out a selection of our smaller, happier sheep which aren’t too skittish – Teddy with the cuddly coat, Midnight with the black fleece and Baa-bara with the pretty face. Anthony the Anti-Social Sheep is deemed to be too much of a health risk to be allowed on what is intended to be a calming walk, even though he is eyeing up Baa-bara longingly. We harness the donkeys, Harriet and Hilda, too. This will be their first trial and, as they are usually extremely gentle, I have high hopes for them. Finally, we take two of the pygmy goats – Laurel and Hardy – who like any excuse to be out and about in the fields.
Eventually, when everyone has an animal to walk, we set off across the fields with Little Dog, Big Dog and Betty Bad Dog (fingers crossed that she’s channelling Betty Good Girl today). Pet lamb, Fifty, joins us too. He won’t go on a harness – he generally won’t do anything we want him to do – but is quite happy to wander after us. As we go, we become a little band of merriment, and there’s much chatter and laughter, which is nice to see. Bev looks over at me and grins. It is an I-told-you-so grin. I know that it won’t magically solve the problems they’re facing, but I like to think walking in the countryside with an alpaca, tiny goat or cheerful sheep on a regular basis might make those suffering feel just a little bit brighter for a short while.
It’s a beautiful if cold day, but we take our
time walking out across the fields and down along the river. We circle the pond and, as usual, the alpacas like to have a dip. Tina Turner paddles at the edges, but Johnny Rotten ploughs straight into the middle and lies down – nearly taking his handler with him. It’s only a swift intervention from Lucas that prevents an unexpected dunking. But that’s our only near-miss, everything else goes unnervingly smoothly. The donkeys are impeccably behaved. Betty Bad Dog only wees on fence posts and hedgerows rather than on expensive shoes. The visitors really enjoy their time and it does, to my utmost relief, go without a hitch.
Bev high-fives me as we get back to the yard. ‘You can breathe again now.’
She’s not wrong. I think I have been holding my breath most of the way round and am in desperate need of a restorative cup of tea. But the session could definitely be classed as an unmitigated success, and I hope that they’ll book another one soon as it was a joy to have them here and will also bring in some most welcome funds. After last night’s argument it makes me even more determined not to be reliant for Shelby on our funding.
‘That went well,’ Lucas says as he brings Johnny Rotten to a halt beside me.
‘Yes. Thanks for your help.’ He seems to be in a much better humour – I even noticed him talking to a young man of a similar age on the way round, which was nice.
‘I’ll take the ponies back up to the field.’
‘Thanks, Lucas.’ I squeeze his skinny shoulders and he doesn’t shrug me off.
He grabs all of their leads and they trot after him.
After I’ve watched him go, I turn my attention to the visitors. I’m just helping them put their animals back into their pens when I see Shelby’s Bentley pull into the farmyard. I swear to you that my heart skips a beat.
‘Can you take over, Bev?’ I ask.
‘No problem.’ She takes Laurel’s lead from my hand and ushers him into his pen.
As always, Shelby looks very debonair as he steps out of the car – every inch the television star. He’s dressed very smartly in a grey sweater and jeans. And – ahem – new shoes. I check, anxiously, to see if Betty Bad Dog is in the vicinity, but she’s not. I’m also relieved to see that he grabs a huge bunch of red roses from the back seat of his car. This must be Shelby in conciliatory mood. I leave the visitors with Bev, cleanse my hands and head towards him.
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