Happiness for Beginners

by Carole Matthews

  She laughs. ‘That bad.’

  ‘I could kick myself.’

  She goes off to make my tea and brings it over. ‘Let’s distract ourselves by betting on Alan’s T-shirt for tomorrow.’

  ‘Pink Floyd,’ I opt for. ‘Dark Side of the Moon. He hasn’t worn that for a while.’ I’m aware that I’m going over old ground.

  ‘Hmm. Good call.’ She drums at her chin with her fingers, deep in thought before announcing, ‘I’m going left field with the Stone Roses.’

  ‘May the best woman win.’ I down my tea. ‘I’d better get out there again. I’m going to have a look at the slurry pond. I think it might need dredging.’

  ‘We have ALL of the fun here,’ Bev says. ‘There’s a bag of leftover cabbage and some sunflower seeds for the chickens, if you want to chuck that in to them on your way.’ She nods to a carrier bag propped up by the arm of the sofa.

  ‘Will do.’ I know our girls will appreciate such treats. They love nothing better than to scratch about in the dirt looking for seeds.

  So I grab the carrier bag and swing by the chicken run, tossing in their treats. I save a bit of cabbage for Teacup too as he also loves it – but then he loves every kind of food. When my favourite pig has been thoroughly fussed and petted, I head towards the pond. Passing near the barn my nose prickles with the faint smell of burning and, as I look up, there’s a wisp of smoke coming from the far corner by the hay bales. Shit.

  I’m in sprint mode immediately and race over to where I can smell the smoke coming from. Sure enough, there are a few flames dancing on one of the lower bales and I can see glowing embers in the next two bales. It’s not too much now, but it’s alarming enough and there’s no way that we can afford for this to catch hold. Flame and farms are a deadly mix and we’re so strict about smoking here, that I wonder how it’s started. I grab my phone, punch in the number for the emergency services and give them the details as I race for the nearest hosepipe. Thankfully, there’s one at this end of the barn.

  Yet, by the time I get back, a couple more bales are starting to smoulder. ‘Alan! Bev!’ I shout. ‘We’re in trouble here!’ But I’ve no idea if they’re close enough to hear me.

  I train the hosepipe on the worst of the flames, wishing that we had some kind of pressure system. This is fantastic for washing horses, not so much for fighting fires. We have fire extinguishers here, as required by our insurance policy, but they’re hopeless too. What we need is a water cannon. Little Dog is barking and barking.

  A moment later, Alan comes into the barn and quickly clocks what’s happening. With an unaccustomed curse, he grabs one of the big buckets and scoops some water from the horse trough to throw on the fire. We move as close to it as we dare and though we work as fast as we can to quell the flames, we seem to be making little impression on it. I can feel the heat increasing and the feel of fear in my chest. Sweat is pouring down my face and back. The billowing smoke fills the barn and starts to make my breathing laboured and my eyes sting.

  Bev comes into the back of the barn and sees what’s happening. ‘You’ve phoned the fire brigade?’

  ‘Yes. I hope to God they find us quickly.’ My face is warm, glowing.

  ‘I’ll move the kids to the far side of the farm, then I’ll come back for the animals.’

  ‘Take Little Dog too.’

  ‘Come with me, baby.’ She grabs Little Dog by the collar and then she dives out again.

  ‘Look out for the fire engine,’ I yell after her, but I don’t know if she hears me.

  Alan and I continue our labours. Him throwing on bucket after bucket of water at the worst of it, never stopping, me dowsing everything with the hosepipe.

  ‘Are you OK, Alan?’ I shout over to him.

  ‘Yeah,’ he says without looking up from his task.

  In the yard, I can hear Bev opening pens and moving the animals out, cajoling those who are reluctant to move with the promise of food.

  Alan and I seem to be keeping pace with the fire. It might not be dying down, but it’s not taking hold as yet or roaring away from us. I pray to a God that I don’t believe in that everything holds. At least there are no animals in the immediate vicinity, but I’m still worried about evacuating them. At what point do we abandon this and turn our attention to moving them just in case?

  It’s a blessed relief when a few minutes later there’s the sound of the siren from a fire engine in the lane. I’ve always worried that we’re too remote here, but they seem to have found us with ease and alacrity. It feels as if the cavalry have arrived in the nick of time. I’m sure Bev will go to get the gate as neither of us dare desert our posts.

  ‘Thank God,’ I say to Alan who nods at me in response and goes to get yet another bucket of water.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Any longer and I think we might have lost control of the fire and the whole barn could have gone up in smoke. As it was, the firefighters arrived in the very nickiest nick of time, took over and saved the day. It would have been a terrible way to end our days at Hope Farm with a disastrous blaze. Yet it was only sheer luck that made me spot it in time. The thought is making me feel very shaky inside.

  The stack of hay bales has largely gone and one end of the barn is badly charred, the wood blackened and scarred for ever. It’s a miracle that none of the wood actually caught light and, for that, I’m truly grateful. Maybe someone up there was answering my prayers after all. Still, though, there’s the pressing question of how it started.

  Alan is sitting next to me, staring silently at the mess ahead of us. The barn floor is awash with water from the hoses. It’s inching towards us. I turn to Alan and say, ‘Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. You were brilliant.’

  ‘No worries.’

  My throat closes with pain and emotion.

  He puts a hand on my knee and I don’t think that Alan has ever touched me before. ‘It’ll be right.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  Bev brings tea and biscuits for the firefighters. She gives me and Alan a mug too. I nurse mine, too shell-shocked to drink.

  ‘The kids are all right,’ she tells us. ‘Just a bit shaken. I’ve moved them into the tea room and they’ve all got drinks. I’ll phone their parents or taxis and get them collected as soon as possible.’

  ‘The animals?’

  ‘I’ve put them all in the alpaca paddock. Tina’s not too happy about that, but needs must. They’re all OK too.’

  ‘Fifty? The dogs?’

  ‘Just fine. The only casualty is Phantom.’ Our elusive barn cat. I didn’t even think where he might be. ‘Smoke inhalation. The fire fighters are just giving him some oxygen. His fur’s a bit singed too. Everyone else is fine. No harm done.’

  Poor Phantom. I’m horrified that saving him didn’t come into my head. I was too concerned about the barn. Luckily, as in the rest of his life, he was capable of fending for himself. I still feel that I’ve let down one of my charges.

  And I can’t stop thinking ‘What if? What if? What if?’ My teeth might be chattering a bit too. What if this had spread? What if the students had been in danger? What if we’d have had to evacuate the animals? What if our buildings had burnt down to the ground? It doesn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘Get that down your neck.’ Bev nods at my untouched tea and frowns at me, her expression worried. ‘You look dreadful.’

  I bet I do. I feel grimy from the smoke and my throat is dry, my eyes are scratchy and my lungs are burning with every breath. The firefighters wanted Alan and me to go and get checked over at the local hospital to see the extent of our smoke inhalation and if any serious damage has been done, but I can’t face a five-hour wait in A&E and Alan was reluctant to go too. I’m sure we’ll be fine.

  I take a sip of the tea and it seems to have a heap of sugar in it and I don’t take sugar. ‘Thanks, Bev.’

  ‘Why don’t you go and have a lie down in your caravan?’

  ‘I’m OK. Really I am.’

&nb
sp; She doesn’t look convinced.

  I’m not OK. There’s a nagging feeling in my heart that I don’t really want to address. Lucas left here in such a temper and I know that he’s got form in this area. He was excluded from school for setting fire to stuff, after all. Could he have been the one to start this deliberately? I don’t want to believe it of him, but a little voice in my head won’t let the question go. Was he angry enough to do this as a punishment for me? Surely he couldn’t be so cruel? Was it an accident? Could he have been smoking in here and carelessly discarded the cigarette butt? Lucas is the only student I know who smokes and I’ve had to tell him off about it before. I haven’t seen him smoking recently, but that’s not conclusive proof. I don’t want to think badly of Lucas – you know how much I like him – but I can’t help but wonder.

  The firefighters, having finished their tea and biscuits, are clearing up, putting their paraphernalia away. They couldn’t have been better or more supportive and, no doubt, they’ve saved us from certain disaster. I shudder again to think what could have happened and, despite the mountain of sugar that Bev forced down me, I feel drained now. I’m sitting on the floor as my legs didn’t want to hold me up. If anything else lands on my plate, I may never get up again. I wipe my face on my sleeve and cover the fabric in black soot. No wonder I feel filthy dirty and in need of a good scrub down. Already, I know that my bucket shower won’t really hit the spot tonight. Sometimes it would be nice to have just a little more luxury in my life or someone else to share the decisions and the difficult times. This is all too much for me to handle by myself. Perhaps I should give it all up, rehome the animals and get myself a proper job in an office or a building society or something. Surely my life would be less stressful. I could pick up my pay cheque and go home at five o’clock every night. There’d be regular money, a pension and weekends off, all of the perks.

  But it’s no good thinking like that. I have animals and students who depend on me keeping going for as long as I’m able to keep this place open. I have to pick myself up, dust myself down and get on with it, because if I don’t, no one else will.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  As the firefighters are leaving, I manage to mobilise myself to stand up so that I can shake the hands of our saviours, thanking them profusely. I really don’t know what we’d have done if they hadn’t arrived so swiftly.

  The fire engine is just departing when Lucas comes walking into the yard. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, his fringe is almost covering his face, but what little of it I can see looks ashamed. It seems as if he didn’t phone for that car after all. Maybe after stomping around for a bit, he’s cooled off. I want to feel pleased to see him but, instead, my shoulders just feel even more weighed down.

  He nods at the fire engine as it goes. ‘What’s going on here then? Have I missed something? It stinks of smoke.’

  ‘Oh, Lucas,’ I say sadly and I really hope that he’s as innocent as he sounds. I lead him into the barn.

  When we go inside his eyes widen and he’s clearly horrified to see the extent of the damage that the fire has caused. Is the shock real or is he as good an actor as his father?

  ‘What the fuck?’ he says.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Is everyone OK?’

  ‘Yes. People and animals are all fine.’ I study him closely when I add, ‘Disaster was narrowly averted. I hate to think what would have happened if this had caught hold. My whole life could have literally gone up in smoke.’

  ‘Shit. That was a close call.’

  ‘Yes.’ He’s obviously shaken, but is that because of what he’s seen or what he’s done? We stand there awkwardly and that little voice nagging inside me just won’t go away. ‘I have to ask you this, Lucas. Did you start the fire?’

  His face darkens. ‘What?’

  ‘I really want to believe that it was nothing to do with you, but given your past history, I can’t help wonder.’

  He stares at me, aghast. ‘You think I did this because you were mad at me?’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Fuck off, Molly.’

  ‘Don’t speak to me like that,’ I say, remaining as calm as I can. ‘I want to discuss this rationally. If you did this, then we need to talk about it. I want you to understand just how dangerous it was. You could have endangered our lives and those of the animals.’

  ‘You think I’d do that?’

  ‘You were excluded from school for setting fire to things. How do I know for sure that’s all behind you?’

  His face screws up and he looks as if he’s about to cry. Instead, he spits out, ‘Because it wasn’t bloody well me in the first place!’ He holds up his hands and backs away from me. ‘You adults are all the same. You can’t see what’s under your nose. I didn’t set fire to anything at school. It was another bunch of kids, but no one would believe me. I took the rap because I was being bullied. Does that make you happy?’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘Because no one ever listens to me.’ He’s shaking now and I want nothing more than to give him a hug, yet shock is freezing me to the spot. ‘I came back here to apologise for acting like a twat this morning and you try to pin this on me?’

  ‘I’m not trying to pin it on you, Lucas. I’m simply asking you straight. Was this down to you?’

  ‘No,’ he snaps. ‘No, it wasn’t.’ He shakes his head at me and I’ve never seen anyone look more disappointed. I shrivel inside. His eyes fill with tears and two pink spots appear on his chalk-white face. ‘I thought you really cared. But you’re just like all the rest. This time I’m really going and I’m not coming back.’

  He storms away from me, looking like a lost, vulnerable child. But I don’t have the energy to follow him. My throat is so scorched that I can’t even summon my voice to call out. I watch him march away, all angry angles and hatred emanating from him and I can do nothing.

  I look at the barn, the smell of smoke searing my nostrils, the charred wood and, in my heart, I still don’t know whether I can believe him or not.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  For the rest of the day, I just feel numb. Bev and Alan are fantastic, as always, and step in to look after everyone – kids and animals alike – as I seem to have lost the ability to function properly. Tamara goes round the barn taking loads of photos of charred wood and singed hay to put on social media. I think our students have coped admirably with the dramatic disruption as so many of them don’t like any deviation from their routine. This kind of thing is a big challenge for them. For me too. In fact, they’re handling it better than I am. No one has gone into meltdown even though there are some anxious faces.

  ‘Go and lie down.’ Bev steers me towards my caravan. ‘You’re no use to anyone like this. Have a good rest and you’ll be able to face it all with a clearer head tomorrow.’

  My natural instinct is to fight it and soldier on, but instead I take her advice and say, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘We’ll finish up here,’ Bev says. ‘I’ll see to the students and I’ll settle the animals and feed them. There’s nothing for you to worry about.’

  But there is. Every thought I have causes me to worry.

  I click my fingers for Little Dog who trots to my heel. Despite his permanent smile, he looks anxious too. Bending down, I fuss his ears. ‘It will be all right, boy,’ I assure him. Though I think I could be lying.

  We walk towards the van, the smell of smoke heavy in the air, the pattern of the flames still imprinted on my eyes. As well as the barn, the yard is also awash with water from the fire-fighters’ efforts and I really need to get out here with the broom, but my limbs are like lead, my head aching. There’s nothing in the bank and, once again, the precarious nature of my finances threatens to undo me. If the barn, or anything else, had burned to the ground then I really would be left with nothing but a pile of ashes. If it had caught hold, my caravan could have gone too and then I’d even be without a home. Once again it hits me that I need to do some serio
us fundraising or have a massive, unexpected windfall.

  In the caravan, I close the bedroom curtains and Little Dog and I lie down on the bed. Personal grooming isn’t usually high on my list of concerns. It’s perfectly normal for me to have dirt under my fingers and uncombed hair, but I feel filthy and in need of a shower. As soon as Bev and Alan have gone, I’ll strip off and douse myself. Water always makes you feel better.

  I doze off but am restless, dreaming of fire licking at my feet and water engulfing me. Little Dog twitches next to me.

  When my phone rings next to my head, it’s a struggle to wake up but I’m glad to be free of my dark dreams. I thought it might be Bev as it would be just like her to call to see how I am, but the display says it’s Shelby.

  Sitting bolt upright, I straighten my tangled hair. ‘Hi.’

  ‘I’ve just got back from filming. Lucas is in a dreadful state.’ Shelby sounds bleak. ‘He says he won’t come to the farm any more, but won’t say why.’

  I let out a long wavering breath, but can’t find any words.

  ‘Molly? Molly? Are you there?’

  It takes me an age to answer, ‘Yes.’

  ‘This is obviously serious. I’m coming straight up. Is that OK?’

  I nod at the phone.

  ‘Ten minutes. That’s all I’ll be. Come to the gate.’

  I nod again and hang up. I’ve no idea what time it is but my phone tells me it’s nearly seven o’clock. My legs are still weak when I get up and Little Dog runs round me looking concerned. ‘I’m fine,’ I let him know. ‘Absolutely fine.’

  He doesn’t look convinced and I’m not sure that I am either. All this drama has knocked me for six. My thoughts are whirling in my head and I can’t latch on to any of them properly.

  A text pings in. This time it’s Bev. Are you OK? Didn’t want to call & wake you. Bxx

  I text back. Fine. Still a bit shaky. I’ll be as right as rain tomoz. Mxx