Happiness for Beginners

by Carole Matthews

  ‘Oh, absolutely. You should have seen the other people who were lined up for it.’ He reels off a list of names, none of which mean anything to me, but Shelby is obviously impressed to be considered among them. I’ll try to remember the names and I’ll ask Bev who they are tomorrow.

  I lower my voice and ask in conspiratorial tones, ‘Will it mean leaving Flinton’s Farm?’

  There’s a look that flashes over his face – guilt, discomfort, sadness? ‘It will mean leaving a lot of things.’

  ‘Oh.’ I’ve no idea about the nuts and bolts of his world. Perhaps you can’t work on more than one thing at a time.

  ‘Have you heard of a big American series called The Dead Don’t Sleep?’

  I really wish I had as this is patently a huge thing for him. But I’ve never heard of that either and instead, can do no more than look blankly at him.

  ‘It’s massive.’ He gives a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Enormous. Everyone watches it.’

  Another one for me to check with Bev.

  ‘It’s about a zombie apocalypse. People fighting the good fight in the face of adversity.’

  Still the blank look.

  He seems a little irritated by my ignorance, but presses on. ‘Trying to save what’s left of humanity.’

  ‘It sounds lovely,’ I say.

  ‘It’s a major role for me.’ He’s very insistent about that.

  ‘I’m so pleased for you.’ And I am. ‘You must be thrilled. Do you know what you’ll be yet?’

  ‘Of course.’ A bit snappy. ‘It’s one of the lead characters. Each season there’s new villain that the survivors come up against. I’m going to be the one for Season Nine.’ He leans in towards me. ‘If the gossip rags or the fan pages get hold of this I’ll be hammered.’

  ‘My lips are sealed,’ I assure him. ‘So you’ll be the villain?’

  ‘After years of playing Gordon Flinton, it’s like dream come true. I’m going to be the gun-toting, psycho baddie.’

  ‘And that’s a good thing?’ If I’m honest, it sounds quite alarming to me. Why would anyone want to do that?

  Shelby stares at me aghast. ‘It’s huge. This could really make my name in Hollywood. I’m going straight into one of the biggest shows they have. As a lead. Do you know how many people would kill for a role like this?’

  I don’t, but I’m gathering that it would be a lot. In fairness, if I asked Shelby questions about sour crop in chickens or coccidiosis in alpacas – a parasitic disease in younger ones in case you were wondering – he would look similarly baffled. We each have our own area of speciality.

  ‘If I nail it, they’ve said they could buck the trend and carry the character to another season. Shake things up a bit for the audience. Imagine that!’

  ‘Wow,’ I say in the absence of anything more useful to offer. ‘I’m delighted for you. Really delighted.’

  Then he lets out a long, heavy sigh. ‘I’ll be able to see you into the farm,’ he continues. ‘Filming starts shortly after Christmas, so I won’t be going until the end of the year.’

  Going? ‘Going where?’

  ‘Out to LA, Los Angeles, the City of Angels.’

  ‘Oh. You’re moving to America?’ It’s fair to say that I’m just a little bit shell-shocked.

  ‘That’s the deal, Molly. I can hardly film it here.’

  I never considered that. ‘So how long will you be gone for?’

  ‘I’m looking at renting a house out there for a year.’

  ‘A year?’ I thought he was talking about a matter of weeks. But a year?

  ‘This could be my big break.’ He’s defensive now. ‘I need to be in Hollywood. That’s where it all happens. What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘How’s that going to work? What will Lucas do?’

  For the first time, Shelby looks worried. ‘He’ll have to go to boarding school.’

  I feel myself blanch. ‘Tell me you didn’t just say that.’

  His expression darkens and I can tell that he very definitely did. ‘I’m already looking into it. I can afford to pay for the best for him. You know that.’

  ‘And you know that he’ll hate every minute of it.’

  ‘What exactly am I supposed to do?’ Shelby lowers his voice but I can tell that he’s cross at being questioned. ‘This is my opportunity to get rid of Gordon Flinton for ever. I’ll never be anyone else while I’m here.’ He glances round the pub. A few heads snap away from staring in our direction. ‘You’ve seen how people look at me. Out there, I can re-invent myself, have a fresh start.’

  ‘But this isn’t just about what you want or what’s good for you. It’s about Lucas too. He’s doing brilliantly with us.’

  ‘I am fully aware of the bond you have with my son.’

  ‘You can’t palm him off on someone else to look after, just as we’re making progress.’ I can feel my temper rising and it’s a rare feeling for me. Surely, he can’t be considering doing this to Lucas? Not now. Not ever. The man must be mad. ‘After all he’s been through, a settled home life is essential for him.’

  ‘I have to think of my career,’ Shelby says through gritted teeth.

  I manage to keep my voice sounding civilised when I really want to shout. ‘You have to think of your son. Your only son.’

  ‘This is the chance of a lifetime,’ he reiterates, jaw set. ‘I need to do this.’

  ‘When are you going to get on board with the fact that your son needs you? This is a critical time for Lucas. To abandon him now would be an utter disaster.’

  ‘That’s unfair, Molly. I wouldn’t be abandoning him. I’d make sure he was well looked after. He always has the best that money can buy.’

  ‘And that’s your answer, is it? Throw some money at it?’

  ‘I’ve tried everything else, Molly.’ Shelby has raised his voice now and heads in the pub turn to us again. ‘Nothing seems to work. Lucas hates me. He doesn’t want me anywhere near him. If that’s the case, then I might as well do what I want.’

  I stand up. I can’t listen to any more of this. Of all the stupid, pig-headed things to do. Even though I’m shaking, I shout back at Shelby, ‘If you’re such a bloody good actor, then it’s time that you started acting like a father.’

  Then, to the amazement of Shelby and the pub regulars, I storm out.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  I hear nothing from Shelby. Of course, I don’t. It was completely out of order for me to tell him how to raise his son. Especially, as he has been so very kind to me. I’ve texted him twice to apologise, but have had no response and I don’t want to try again or he’ll think I’m a stalker.

  The trouble, as you well know, is that I’ve grown very fond of Lucas and while I appreciate that this is a fantastic opportunity for Shelby – well, sort of – I don’t want Lucas to be dumped at a boarding school, no matter how expensive. He’ll hate it. I know he will. It will be the final affirmation that his dad doesn’t want him around. Why can’t his own father see that?

  Also, in voicing my opinion so emphatically, I’ve probably done us out of that fabulous farm. I haven’t slept a wink all week worrying about it. I’ve had no paperwork, not even an email, so I’m assuming that it’s off the cards and we are about to be rendered homeless. I could poke myself in my own eyes for being so stupid. But I couldn’t have been party to Shelby’s confidence without letting him know how I felt, could I? What if I’d said nothing and simply sat back and watched Lucas be shipped out to God-knows-where.

  Bev comes into the caravan, bearing a basket of eggs. I’m sitting at the table with my head in my hands in despair. I don’t even try to pretend that I’m not.

  ‘Cheer up, love,’ she says. ‘It might never happen.’

  ‘It will,’ I assure her. ‘In just a few short weeks.’

  ‘You’ve still heard nothing from our tame celebrity?’

  ‘Not so tame, it appears,’ I remind her. ‘But no, nothing.’

  ‘Fuck,’ she says.

&nbs
p; ‘Indeed.’

  Bev puts half a dozen eggs in my fridge. ‘Time for Plan B then?’

  ‘Plan B involves me phoning round all the local and not-so-local animal sanctuaries to see if they’ll take on our babies.’ I can feel my eyes well with tears just saying it. How am I going to get through an entire phone call?

  Bev sits down opposite and squeezes my hand. ‘What a bugger.’

  ‘I don’t know what else I can do.’ Now my throat closes and when I speak my voice comes out as a pathetic croak. ‘We’ll have to tell all the students that we’re closing, too. How will I break that news to them? Where will they go? I can’t palm them off on anyone else. We’re unique in what we do here.’

  ‘And, while we’ve been open, we’ve done everything we could for them. This isn’t your doing, Mols. You can’t take the weight of it on your shoulders. It’s not as if you’ve let the farm fail or you’re shutting it down to travel the world or something. This is entirely due to that bloody trainline. I wish the people in government could see what their “progress” is doing to real lives.’

  But they won’t. They never do, do they? Sitting up there in Westminster in their ivory tower, the decisions they make rarely touch their own lives. It’s the rest of us who have to pick up the pieces. Now I am crying. Bev comes and gives me a cuddle. She wipes my tears with a dirty tissue she finds in her pocket while I weep all over the carefully written list of people that I might call.

  ‘Tea,’ Bev says when my tears have subsided to a snotty sniffle and goes to put the kettle on. When she sits down again, she pushes a mug towards me. ‘I don’t want to add to your burden, but you do realise that you’ll also be homeless. Have you thought about what you’ll do?’

  That hits me like a slap in the face. With all the worry about the students and the animals, it hadn’t even occurred to me that I need to look for a place too. ‘No,’ I admit.

  Bev tuts at me. ‘Thought not. You always put everyone else first.’

  ‘I’ll find something, I’m sure.’ Though my brain is refusing to think what that might be. Even renting these days is prohibitively expensive. I have no money for a deposit, no references, no regular income to speak of. Who’d want to take me on?

  ‘You can have my spare room, you know that,’ Bev says. ‘It’s tiny, but it’s better than nothing. Actually,’ she looks round my caravan, ‘it’s better than this.’

  I can’t help but laugh, even though it makes snot come out of my nose.

  ‘Little Dog can live in the house and maybe we could build a run for Big Dog in the garden. I could even take Fifty and a few of the more pathetic hens if push comes to shove.’

  ‘I’d definitely like to keep our one-legged Peg and Mrs Magoo if I can.’

  ‘Who else would want them?’

  Who else would want any of them, I think? Our nervous ex-police boys with a penchant for pushing over fences? Ringo with his horsehair allergy and celebrity hairdresser? That’s just for starters. I can’t even consider the difficulties of finding someone to love Anthony the Anti-Social Sheep or our trio of angsty alpacas. Who will care for them as we do?

  ‘I’d better go,’ Bev says, sadly.

  ‘What are the kids up to today?’

  ‘Some of them are with Dumb and Dumber in the barn. They’ve put the ponies’ Happy Horse ball out and the roller. The goats are quite happily chasing them up and down.’

  ‘The rest?’

  ‘Up in the fields with Alan. Lucas is there too.’

  I’ve not seen much of Lucas this week. I think he’s been giving me a wide berth. I don’t know if he knows about my disagreement with his father or even if he’s thinking about jetting off to LA to live. I know that I have to have this conversation with him but frankly, the longer I can avoid it the better.

  ‘I’ll leave you to your phone calls,’ Bev says.

  ‘What’s Alan wearing today?’ We might as well add a bit of welcome levity to our situation.

  ‘Supertramp.’

  I suck in a breath. ‘Old skool.’ And miles away from our guesses of the Verve and Primal Scream. ‘We need to think more laterally.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to be getting it right any more,’ she says with a worried look on her face.

  I can’t help but giggle at that. ‘Has Alan mentioned your date again?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘He’s offered to take me to that posh pub in the village. I haven’t been, though I’ve heard it’s good.’

  ‘But you’re still not going.’

  ‘Nooooooo. It’s Alan, for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘He might surprise you,’ I offer.

  ‘He won’t.’ She heads for the door. ‘Besides, I’m holding out for your leftovers. You might have blotted your copybook with the sublimely gorgeous Shelby Dacre, but he’s still at the top of my To Be Shagged list.’

  ‘I doubt we’ll see him around here any more. You’ll have to follow him to LA.’

  ‘That would soooo work for me. I’ll leave you in my house with all the no-hope animals and head off to the sun.’ Bev stops dead. ‘Actually, that sounds like an absolutely brilliant thing to do. I wonder if he needs a personal assistant? Don’t forget that in a couple of weeks I’ll be gainfully unemployed too.’

  I hadn’t really thought what to do about that either, but it doesn’t stop me from throwing a cushion at her.

  ‘Get out of here, woman.’

  ‘Hit those phones,’ she says as she ducks out of the door. ‘We’re running out of time.’

  That I’m well aware of. So I pick up my list, all blotched with my tears, and dial the first number.

  Chapter Eighty

  So far I’ve made twenty-six phone calls and have only managed to find places for the pygmy goats and one of the Shetland ponies at a petting farm that’s about ten miles from here. But how can I split up Buzz and Ringo? It seems that no one minds a bit of cute, but anything more complicated is out of the question. They all look at the not inconsiderable cost of vet bills for the afflicted, so I can hardly blame them.

  No one wants a ramshackle flock of sheep despite the fact that I didn’t even mention Anthony could be used as an attack sheep. Some people might not view that as a bonus. No one, it seems, wants two massive horses who will eat them out of house and home, but will jump at a butterfly alighting in the next field. No one wants a pony that comes with his own hairdressing issues. I hang up on my last call and realise that I’ve hit a brick wall. I’m all out of begging and pleading for now – it’s totally exhausting, even though I’ve spoken to an awful lot of people who’ve made sympathetic noises. They ‘understand my plight’, are ‘sorry for my situation’, wish they ‘could do more’, all of those things. But no, they can’t help me out by actually taking on any of the animals.

  I leave the caravan for a much-needed breath of fresh air. The closer to the deadline I get, the more I feel I need to be out on the land too. Soon it will be churned up by diggers and whatever kind of heavy machinery you need to blight countryside for ever and my heart breaks a bit more. What will happen to the animals if I reach the end of the line and they haven’t been rehomed? What then? Little Dog and Big Dog come out of the shade under the caravan and fall into step with me.

  Behind the barn I see Lucas washing down Buzz. It’s become one of his favourite jobs and I stop for a moment and watch how expert he is at it now. He’s grown so much in confidence since he arrived, angry, sullen and lonely. Some days he can still be as moody as hell, but he’s a teenager with troubles, so what can I say? He talks to Buzz soothingly as he washes his coat with shampoo.

  I go over to him and lean on the fence. As he’s been cool towards me, I prepare myself for a rebuff. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Do you mean hey or hay?’ Lucas asks.

  I laugh. Clearly, he’s not in a mood today. ‘Don’t get clever with me, young man.’

  Lucas looks up and grins. Little Dog goes to say hello to him, while Big Dog lopes off to find another welcome patch of shade.
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br />   ‘How are you doing?’ I venture.

  A shrug. ‘OK.’

  The back of the barn here is still bearing the scars of the fire. As we’re moving, we haven’t done any of the repairs, so the wood is still charred, the hay there reduced to a blackened mess and the tang of smoke still lingers. The fire officer who came to investigate the blaze advised us to pull it down as, though it’s not in imminent danger of collapse, the structure is compromised. Instead, Alan has shored it up as best as he can and we avoid using it. In a short while, it will all be flattened to the ground and any trace of the barn, the farm, lost for good. The fire officer also confirmed that it was the faulty cable that had sparked the fire and I’m so glad we definitively discovered that Lucas didn’t do this. I couldn’t bear it if it had been him.

  He reaches in his back pocket and hands his phone to me. ‘Did you see this?’

  I scan through the photos on the screen.

  ‘Scarlett Vincent has done an exposé on her relationship with Dad,’ he explains as I view them. ‘He’s been stomping round with a miserable face all week. I guess this explains it. He hates this kind of thing.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ Though I do wonder if his ill-temper is entirely down to this exposé – horrible as it is. Perhaps he’s still cross about what I said to him. He must be. I just wish he’d return my texts and we could talk about it.

  ‘It’s on the front page of all the rag mags and the tabloids. They were all piled up on the kitchen table this morning. That’s where I saw them. His publicist brought them over. His face was like thunder.’

  ‘It must be difficult,’ I venture. ‘Living your life in the spotlight.’

  ‘His choice,’ Lucas counters.

  ‘I suppose so. Are things between you and him all right?’

  ‘Same as usual. I thought it would be different when he didn’t have a girlfriend, but he’s still never around. He said we should go for a pizza as there was something he wanted to talk to me about. I’m still waiting. Whether it ever happens or not, your guess is as good as mine.’