‘Isn’t he coming then?’
‘He’ll be in the pub. He’ll come out and watch us. He won’t be able to resist. Adam, have you got the bucket for the collection?’
‘I’ve got it, Mum.’ He rattles the small change in the bottom. He’s dressed as a farmer in wellies, jeans, waxed jacket and hat. Georgia is a cat and Sophie a rabbit.
‘What are you supposed to be, Stevie?’ Georgia asks.
‘What do you think?’ I put the paintbrush down and rest my hands on my hips.
‘Another rabbit?’ she says.
‘I’m a donkey. Can’t you tell by the ears?’
‘They’re a bit floppy for a donkey. You look more like a brown rabbit to me.’
‘It’s the overall effect that counts. If you’re all ready, I’ll fetch the tractor so we can hook up the generator for the music and lights.’ I head out across the yard, climb into the cab and turn the key in the ignition, but the engine remains stubbornly silent. ‘Come on, Bertha.’ Unfortunately, Bertha has no concept of the importance of the occasion and she fails to rise to it. There’s nothing, neither a cough nor a splutter. ‘Oh bugger!’ I clamber out – I’m beginning to move with the agility of a long-toed sloth.
‘Did I hear somebody swearing?’ Georgia calls.
‘No,’ I call back.
‘I think I did.’
‘Georgia, it wasn’t a swear word,’ says Sophie. ‘Mum says bugger all the time.’
‘Never mind what Stevie said,’ Jennie says, somewhat impatiently. ‘The tractor’s broken down.’
‘And we need it to tow the trailer,’ says James.
‘Yes, I know that, thank you,’ I say. ‘What are we going to do now?’
‘Guy has a tractor,’ says Georgia.
‘Two tractors,’ adds Sophie, ‘but the old one doesn’t work very well.’
I turn to Jennie. ‘Do you think … ?’
‘I’ll ask him,’ she says, getting up from the face-painting station and fetching her mobile from her bag. ‘Better still, I’ll tell him.’
It seems Guy wouldn’t lend us a tractor, even if he had a hundred of them.
‘Come on, love,’ Jennie says. ‘You know how much the children have been looking forward to this. It would be a shame to let them down because of your stupid pride. And besides, you’ve been worrying about me going out without you tonight. This is the perfect opportunity for you to be with me in case I should –’ she touches her stomach – ‘go into labour.’
I can hear his exclamation of shock.
‘I’ve been having a few aches and pains today, nothing much, but you never know.’ Jennie turns and winks at me. She’s winding him up. I smile back. ‘Oh, thank you, darling. You are such a wonderful man. The children will be so happy. Yes, we’ll see you in ten minutes.’ She pauses and adds, ‘No, we’re not expecting you to dress up. You don’t need to. Everyone knows you’re an old bear.’ She switches off the mobile. ‘I do love my husband. He’s a sweetie really. He’ll do anything for me.’
I look away, suddenly tearful. I wish I had someone who would do anything for me.
Guy brings his tractor up to the farm and hitches it to the trailer, hardly speaking, and we travel slowly along the lane to join the procession of floats and performers at the bottom of Talyton St George, near the Dog and Duck. There’s a party atmosphere, the scent of sausages and fried onions in the air, and even a fine drizzle can’t put a dampener on the proceedings. Sophie, Georgia and James are dancing to the music playing from the loudspeakers that James rigged up on the float, while Adam walks alongside, rattling the loose change in a bucket to encourage the onlookers to contribute to charity. Jennie and I sit on a bench, taking up the rear, waving and smiling. Jennie is dressed up as an elephant in a grey cloak and big ears. She’s removed her trunk.
‘Stevie.’ She grabs my arm as we travel towards Market Square, holding it in a vice-like grip.
‘Jennie, what’s wrong?’
‘My waters have broken.’ OMG, I think, as she goes on, ‘The baby’s on its way. I can’t move.’
‘Can’t you hang on for an hour or so?’ I ask, looking at the length of the carnival procession. It’s slowed right down because the longer trucks in front of ours are having to reverse back up two or three times each to make the corner by Mr Rock’s fish-and-chip shop. ‘We could be stuck in this queue for a while.’
‘This baby isn’t going to wait.’ Jennie bites her lip.
‘Babies aren’t usually in such a hurry are they?’ I say, nervously.
‘This is my fourth. It might pop out at any time.’
‘How long do you think it will be?’ My voice rises to a squeak with panic.
‘I don’t know, do I?’ she exclaims. ‘I’m not a midwife. It could be a couple of hours or twenty minutes.’ She starts to rock back and forth, moaning and clutching her stomach.
‘I’ll talk to Guy,’ I say, moving to the front of the float and leaning up over the boards to yell at Guy who’s driving the tractor.
‘Guy. Guy!’ He can’t hear me. ‘Adam, get your stepdad to stop the tractor!’ I yell, and eventually the float jerks to a stop, unseating Jennie and sending the rest of us flying. The music stops.
‘What is it?’ Guy says crossly over the sound of the engine.
‘Guy! Jennie’s having the baby,’ I shout.
‘I know she’s having a baby,’ he says, sounding faintly irritated. ‘I was there at the conception.’
‘No, she is having the baby. She’s in labour.’
‘Guy, keep driving.’ Jennie’s screams run right through me, making me dread the thought of going into labour. ‘I need to get to the hospital.’
‘You can’t take the tractor,’ I say. ‘It’ll take too long. Let’s see if we can beg a lift from the St John’s ambulance. They’re over there outside the Co-op.’
Guy stares at me. ‘What about the tractor?’
‘I can drive it,’ I offer.
‘What? You drive my tractor? Do you know how much this beauty cost?’
‘I have a fair idea.’ I’ve been looking at one like it in the brochures. This will make a good test drive. I glance towards Jennie. Her brow is damp with sweat and her face contorted with pain. ‘Guy, forget about the tractor and get your wife to hospital, otherwise she’s going to give birth on the spot.’
A pair of clowns performs cartwheels past the float. A horn sounds, and another, until there’s a cacophony of hooting and tooting coming from behind us.
‘Please, Guy,’ Jennie begs.
‘All right. Let’s go, darling,’ Guy says, making his mind up.
‘Mummy, don’t go,’ calls Sophie.
‘I have to. You know that. The next time I see the three of you, the baby will be here. Now, stay with Stevie and she’ll look after you.’
‘But, Mummy …’
‘You have to collect our prize,’ Jennie says as Guy helps her down and carries her through the crowd towards the Co-op. ‘Go on now. You have to catch up.’
Relieved that I’m not going to have to deliver the baby by applying my knowledge of delivering calves, I jump into the tractor and drive on, trying to catch up with the majorettes and the Brownies. The procession stops at the top end of the town where Fifi as lady mayor presents the awards. We are given second place for the medium-sized float with a natural theme, a blue rosette and a voucher for tea for six at the garden centre.
‘So you can see what a real tearoom looks like,’ Fifi says.
‘Thank you,’ I say, sorry that Leo hasn’t made it in time to see any of the carnival.
‘Was it worth doing all that work for that?’ Adam asks James.
‘Of course it was. It’s the taking part, not the winning that counts.’ James lowers his voice, but I can still hear him. ‘I’ve got a few beers behind the generator.’
‘James, no,’ I say. ‘I’m responsible for Adam at the moment. I don’t think he should be drinking.’
‘I can speak for myself,’ Ada
m says. ‘Mum lets me drink. In fact, she encourages it.’
‘Does she? I don’t quite believe it.’
‘She says I should learn to drink in moderation. Apparently, it will reduce my desire to binge-drink later. It’s a proven scientific fact, isn’t it, James?’
‘Indeed, it is,’ James says with a straight face.
‘I don’t believe either of you,’ I tell them. ‘Now, Adam, Georgia and Sophie, would you like to stay at Nettlebed Farm tonight while we’re waiting for your new brother or sister to arrive?’
‘Will the scary old man with the gun be there?’ Sophie asks.
‘That’s my dad you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ She blushes beneath the streetlight.
‘I’d like to stay, Stevie,’ Georgia says.
‘So would I,’ Sophie says.
‘I’d like to, but I can’t,’ Adam says, and I wonder if he’s cross with me about the beers. ‘Someone has to let Lucky out. It’s all right, Stevie. I have a key.’
‘You don’t,’ Sophie says. ‘That’s just what Mum says to tell everyone because she doesn’t want the whole town knowing we keep our doors unlocked.’
‘Lucky would bite a burglar on the bum,’ Georgia says.
‘I’ll take you all back to the farm,’ I say. ‘Adam can walk home from there.’
‘Or I can drive the tractor,’ he says. ‘Guy lets me. I have a provisional licence and I’m almost ready to take my test.’
‘In a car, not a tractor,’ Georgia says scathingly, their skirmish reminding me of me and my brother.
When we get back, I check my mobile. No one has heard anything from Jennie and Guy yet and I wonder if they made it to the hospital in time.
Jennie texts at eight in the morning to announce the arrival of a baby son, a brother for Adam, Georgia and Sophie, at 3 a.m., weighing in at a massive ten pounds. I text back my congratulations, only for Jennie to ring me a few moments later.
‘How are you?’ I ask her.
‘Not too bad, although I felt as though I was giving birth to a watermelon. I could have stayed for the rest of the carnival – the travelling slowed everything down.’ I can tell she’s smiling when she continues. ‘I won’t give you all the gory details because I don’t want to put you off.’
‘The girls would love to come and see you,’ I say as they jump up and down beside me. ‘I can bring them. Or are you coming home soon?’
‘I’m staying here for as long as I can.’
‘Don’t you want to come home?’
‘Oh no, not yet.’ She giggles. ‘I’m looking forward to having a break – don’t tell anyone.’
‘How is Guy?’
‘He’s so happy I reckon he’d give your project his blessing if you asked him about it now.’ Jennie pauses. ‘Have you seen Adam, only I can’t get hold of him? I would send Guy, but he’s completely overwhelmed by his new son. He can hardly put him down.’
‘I’ll go and look for him.’
‘Guy has a relief herdsman in doing the milking – I expect Adam’s showing him where to find everything.’
I drive up to Uphill Farm. There are lights on in the parlour, and the herdsman is halfway through the morning milking, but there’s no sign of Adam.
‘Have you seen him?’ I ask.
‘Not so far.’
‘Okay, I’ll try the house.’
The tractor is parked outside Jennie’s Folly with its front wheels on top of Jennie’s car. The car is crushed.
‘What the—?’ I swear aloud. ‘Adam, where are you?’ I yell. ‘What have you done?’ I’m furious with him because I reckon Guy will hold me responsible just as he’s begun to come round to the idea of talking to us (his idea of the neighbours from hell}. I can’t get in through the front of the house because the tractor is in the way of the gate, so I rush around to the back, wondering where Adam is and what I’ll find next.
Lucky comes trotting out to greet me. I enter the kitchen via the utility room, stepping over boots, dog bowls and horsey grooming kits. In the kitchen there’s evidence of a midnight fry-up, and as I walk on through to the hallway, there’s a strong smell of beer.
‘Adam?’ I check the living room and perform a quick bottle count – there are eight, all empty, and the dregs of malt whisky in a glass. ‘Adam?’
With Lucky at my side, I follow a trail of strewn clothing back across the hallway – T-shirts, sweatshirts and a purple thong that appears to have come from the lingerie section in the back of Aurora’s Cave. Lucky stops outside a door, sniffling excitedly and wagging his tail so fast that it blurs. Very quietly, I push the door open. Lucky scampers inside and leaps onto the bed at which a girl sits up and screams.
‘It’s just the dog,’ I hear Adam mutter from underneath the sheets.
The girl catches sight of me and screams again, making me cover my ears. ‘No, it’s, it’s, look, it’s—’
‘It’s me, Stevie from next door,’ I say calmly, although I feel as if I have a nest of angry hornets trying to escape from my chest. ‘Adam, aren’t you going to introduce me?’
‘This is Rosie, my girlfriend.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ I say. She’s a pretty girl with a sleek, pixie-style haircut that suits her elfin features. She also appears to be naked. I bend down, pick a dressing gown off the floor and throw it in her direction. ‘Adam, what happened to the tractor last night?’
‘Um, I took it for a bit of a drive—’
‘After I told you not to,’ I interrupt. ‘How could you? Guy’s going to be furious. What am I going to say to him?’
‘Guy?’ Adam peers out from the sheets. ‘Please don’t say anything at all. He’ll kill me.’
‘He’s going to find out you double parked the tractor on top of your mum’s car at least.’
‘Did I?’ Adam stammers.
‘You took me out for a ride in it, don’t you remember?’ Rosie says.
‘You need to get dressed, both of you. You can clear up this mess before I take Adam and his sisters to the hospital to meet their new baby brother. Yes, Adam, he’s arrived.’
‘I can’t move,’ Adam groans, burying his face in his hands. ‘I’ve got brain ache.’
I have brain ache too, I think, by the time we get to the hospital, but the pain soon disappears when we find Jennie and Guy on the ward with Reuben, who’s dressed in a blue babygro with a tractor motif, as if Guy’s starting as he means to go on, inducting his son into life as a farmer. He’s cute and chubby but I don’t feel a rush of longing to hold my baby in my arms, just a curiosity to see what she looks like.
Sophie and Georgia are over the moon to see their new brother, giving him a teddy bear and a rattle, which he has absolutely no interest in yet, whereas Adam hangs back, looking pale and queasy. In fact, he looks so rough I almost feel sorry for him.
I decide not to say anything to Jennie and Guy in order not to ruin the moment, but Adam is uncomfortable. It won’t hurt him to sweat it out for a while, I think, as he watches Guy and Jennie kissing.
‘Ugh, you two are so embarrassing,’ Adam grimaces.
‘There are times, Adam,’ I say, ‘when passion overwhelms all sense of reason and propriety. I’m surprised you don’t know that yet.’
He blushes at the sarcasm in my voice.
‘You’re so lucky, Jennie,’ I add. ‘I imagine Adam will be offering to do lots of free babysitting for you.’
‘Will you?’ she says, raising her eyebrows.
He nods sheepishly.
‘Is there something we should know?’ she asks.
‘Are you sickening for something?’ Guy says.
‘Um, I had a bit of an accident last night …’
‘I’ll make myself scarce for a while,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m going for a coffee – I’ll be back in half an hour.’
On the last day of September the leaves are on the turn, the mist swirls around the apple trees and the sloes are full and ripe in the hedgerows. The mornings
are cold; if I had central heating I’d switch it on. I’m beginning to enjoy my pregnancy, aware of the baby kicking and moving around. I would be happy, if it weren’t for Leo leaving. I join him in the morning to wish him farewell, finding him packing the last of his belongings into the four-by-four. I did offer him a lift, but he’s driving up to Talyton Manor where Justin, Alex’s permanent assistant, is taking him to the mainline station in Exeter.
‘I’ve just been to see Jennie and the baby again,’ I say when he sees me. ‘You should have come along too and said goodbye.’
‘Oh no, I’ve told you before – babies and children are not really my thing.’ He smiles ruefully.
‘You can be honorary uncle to my baby,’ I say, touching my bump and immediately wishing I hadn’t used the word ‘uncle’. ‘I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.’
‘No, Stevie. I’d like that very much.’
‘Would you like some help?’
‘I’m all packed,’ he says.
‘Have you got everything?’
‘You can have a look if you like.’ He shows me up the steps into the mobile home. ‘I’ve left the throws. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m travelling light.’
Inside, I notice the two mugs on the draining board beside the sink. I try to stay strong like a pillar of salt, but inside I’m dissolving into a pool of hopelessness.
‘I’ve got you a present,’ Leo says, proffering a small box-shaped package in a bag.
‘What’s that for?’
‘To say thank you …’ he falters. ‘For being a friend. I’ve had some great times here, Stevie, and I’ll take those memories with me. Open it,’ he adds softly.
It’s a necklace, a silver chain with an iridescent butterfly pendant. It reminds me of the butterflies that danced in the fields when we were turning the hay.
‘Thank you.’ I can hardly speak, choked up by his generosity and thoughtfulness.
‘I hope you’ll wear it sometimes and think of me –’ Leo clears his throat – ‘as I will think of you.’
‘Can you …?’ I hold it out to him, dropping it into his palm. I turn away, bundling up my hair, exposing the back of my neck. Leo, standing behind me, puts the necklace over my head and fastens the chain at my nape. He’s so close I can hear the rough catch of his breathing and feel the heat of his body and I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Letting my hair down, I touch the butterfly and swing round to face him.
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