Mating the Llama

by Oliver, Marina

  Did she get on with Rosa? It was news to her, though she wasn't as scared of her as she had been on their first encounter. Doc was still speaking, and she tried to stop looking at his mouth, admiring it, wanting it to kiss her, and listened instead to the words.

  'Surely you have other friends more familiar with livestock than Lucy is?'

  Edward was still persevering, and Lucy, becoming more and more annoyed at his attempts to control her actions, was quietly fuming.

  'None who are free for the next few days.'

  'It sounds very unpleasant. I thought all farm animals were artificially inseminated these days?

  'The breeders haven't found a way of artificial insemination yet. Llamas don't have seasons like dogs, they ovulate after being served by the stud.'

  'I'm sure Lucy does not know enough to be helpful with the breeding of exotic livestock. She's a city girl.'

  She glared at him. 'We lived in the country when we were children, Edward. Have you forgotten?'

  'Well, suburbia,' he conceded. 'But Lucy, you can't just drop everything and go away with – well, with a man you hardly know.'

  She'd have been tempted to refuse, Rosa still scared her, but it would be wonderfully exciting to spend a few days – why that long, did llamas need a long courtship – with Doc. Certainly that prospect weighed far more than her fear of Rosa. And Doc would not let any harm come to her, she was sure. Besides, it wasn't Edward's place to interfere and tell her what to do. She'd have done the opposite, whatever it had involved, just to show him he could not control her.

  'Yes, of course I'll come. What time are you setting off?'

  *

  Edward left barely half an hour after Doc had departed with the collies. Lucy hadn't been able to decide whether he was furious or jealous, probably a bit of both. They'd spent most of the time arguing about the propriety of her going away with Doc.

  'It's a business trip. You take your secretary with you sometimes, you once said.'

  'That's different, I need her to make notes in meetings,' he said, but she detected a slight flush under his tan.

  Was it sunbed tan, she suddenly wondered. Edward, unlike Doc, spent almost no time out of doors, so when had he managed to acquire it? She knew he'd been skiing in January, just after they'd met, and she honestly couldn't remember whether he'd been tanned before then. But surely January tan would not have lasted five months.

  'It's not different at all.'

  'But it is. There presumably won't be any meetings, and you don't know shorthand in any case. I need someone to take notes. I can't do that as well as negotiate.'

  Had someone once mentioned protesting too much? Edward went on.

  'What earthly use can you be with a llama? You don't know anything about them, you wouldn't know how to manage one.'

  He made it sound like a circus lion who'd become aged and stroppy, liable to bite its keeper's head off any minute.

  'Rosa is as gentle as a lamb.'

  She recalled the lamb casserole and Rosa's reputation for spitting, and felt queasy again.

  'And surely it's – well – a bit unpleasant at a stud, watching animals copulate.'

  'No worse than watching people.'

  'Lucy!'

  They went round and round, over the same arguments. He didn't refer to his groping, interrupted by the collies, and neither did Lucy. She didn't want to remind him, or there could be a different sort of argument. She did consider asking him to crawl around on the sitting room floor to look for the buttons, but decided he'd suffered enough that afternoon.

  There was no more mention of dinner, until he saw she wouldn't give way about going with Doc. He became all stuffy and pompous, and left, saying he thought it would be better to postpone dinner as he didn't feel in the right mood for it.

  She was in full agreement. For a few minutes she considered giving back the necklace, but if she did that really would be the end for them. And it was a very pretty necklace.

  'Goodbye Lucy. I hope you don't regret your decision to go on this mad jaunt. I'll phone when you get back. Perhaps, if we go out for a meal somewhere civilised, we can have a sensible discussion about our future.'

  Had they a future, she wondered as she watched him drive away. Edward was a very careful and sensible driver, but he skidded on the loose gravel in the lane as he set off, and burnt rubber as he accelerated once he got onto the main road. A juggernaut thundering towards the junction blared its horn, and as Lucy stood at the end of her drive she could see a furiously gesticulating driver, French by the look of him, wearing a beret, shaking both his fists as he lifted them from the steering wheel.

  She shut her eyes, waiting for the crash, but when nothing happened she went back inside to pack. What should she take? Would they be eating out somewhere posh? Where would they be staying? Would it be a B&B, a motel, or a good hotel? And where was it? Doc hadn't said. Well, tomorrow she'd know.

  *

  Doc called for her at eight the next morning. He was driving a somewhat disreputable Range Rover towing a single horse box. Doc showed her Rosa, sitting contentedly on a bed of straw.

  'They can travel in a van, as they're not nearly as heavy as a horse,' he said, 'but I have this, so I make use of it.'

  The collies were in the back of the car, and when Lucy scrambled up into the passenger seat they both leant over and gave her face a thorough wash. Laughing, she pushed them away, and when Doc said 'Sit' they promptly did so, their tongues lolling.

  'The training seems to be effective,' she said.

  'Sometimes. I had to bring them, with Flick away. Neither the men nor Mrs Thomas have time to exercise them, and they'd have been miserable shut up all day. I hope you don't mind.'

  'No. I was thinking of getting a dog myself.'

  'Do you want a registered pure bred, or would a mongrel do?'

  'I haven't a clue. I've no particular favourite breed, but I don't want a lapdog. I want one suitable for the country.'

  'Mongrels are often healthier. There's a rescue kennels not far away. After we get back, why don't I come with you and see whether there's anything suitable?'

  She shivered in anticipation. 'That would be most helpful,' she said, sounding dreadfully prim, and Doc gave her an amused glance. She began to worry. It seemed as though she was just a source of comedy entertainment to him. How could she make him take her more seriously, she asked herself. She replied, depressingly, telling herself not to do or say stupid things. Impossible. She was programmed that way.

  He spent the next half hour explaining what he thought would suit her, the type of dog, age, size, and a dozen other things. She had thought a dog was a dog, they just differed in size and shape, but apparently this was not so. She became thoroughly confused, in the end not having an idea what she wanted. Apart from spending more time with Doc.

  'I hope your boyfriend wasn't too upset by my pair,' he said. 'You'll have to acclimatise him to a dog, or choose one that won't upset him.'

  'He's not my boyfriend,' she said, in some haste, and Doc glanced at her, his eyes crinkled in a most fascinating way. 'He's just a friend,' she added defensively. 'We used to live in the same street when we were children. And he has nothing to say about my lifestyle.'

  'Oh, I see. He certainly gave me the impression he thought he was your boyfriend, by the looks he gave me, wishing I would vanish in a puff of smoke.'

  'We, well, we've had a rocky patch,' she explained. 'I enjoyed his company, after – after my husband was killed. Some of the men who asked me out at first had the idea I was a rich widow panting for sex! Edward was different.'

  'You mean he wasn't panting for sex with you? What is he, a eunuch?'

  She was rather startled. 'He's a widower,' she said.

  Doc roared with laughter, then had to push the collies out of the way when they took this as an invitation to leap up and lick him. 'Widowers are the same as other men, Lucy, and you're a very attractive woman.'

  She glanced at him. She was certainly a
ttracted to Doc, but she wondered whether he had an ulterior motive for inviting her on this trip. She didn't see what earthly help she could be with Rosa, and perhaps she'd been stupid to accept, but Edward's disapproval had put her back up. If she'd refused, she knew he'd have taken that as permission to try to interfere even more in her life. And, an inner voice whispered, she'd had a perfectly simple motive for coming. But if Doc had straight, uncomplicated sex without any commitment in mind, could she cope with this? She wasn't at all sure. She admitted to herself she wanted to go to bed with him, but what about afterwards? If that was all he wanted, she'd be devastated when, as was inevitable, it finished.

  They'd been driving for a couple of hours when Doc pulled up in a layby at the side of a wood.

  'Let's have some coffee,' he said, reaching over for a bag which held a flask, two mugs, and a box which contained slices of ginger cake. 'Then I must give the dogs a run. Collies need plenty of exercise. If you don't mind, I want you to stay here and look after Rosa.'

  'How?' she demanded, her voice a strangled gasp. 'Does she need taking for a walk as well?'

  He laughed. 'No, she'll be OK where she is. The box is locked, of course, but llamas are valuable, and I don't want to take any risks. One of us must stay with her all the time until I've delivered her safely. I've got a picnic lunch, but to make up for that we can go out for a meal tonight.'

  *

  Mrs Thomas had packed a hamper with more delicious food, and Lucy knew she made a pig of herself. She must have eaten three times what she normally ate for lunch, but she could not resist smoked salmon paté on crisp brown rolls, roasted chicken legs, and a wonderful salad with the best dressing she had ever tasted. This was followed by feather-light mini cheesecakes, sweet black grapes, and another flask of coffee. She could have stayed all day in the picnic spot Doc found, but they had to get on to deliver Rosa to her bridal suite.

  They reached the llama farm mid-afternoon. There were dozens, whole herds of llamas in every shade from pure white through fawns, greys and browns, to black, in the fields either side of the drive. Beyond the long low farmhouse, looking more like a ranch in an American movie than an English farmhouse, were more herds of alpacas. She could tell the difference now, if she saw them together, as alpacas were smaller.

  The owner came out of the house and walked across to where Doc had parked the Range Rover and horse box near a big barn to the side of the house.

  'Mr Finlay? I'm Graham Porter. I'm sorry I was out when you called the other day. Welcome.' He saw the dogs in the Range Rover and frowned. 'You won't let them out here, will you? Llamas don't like strange dogs.'

  'Don't worry. I'll take them somewhere else to let them have a run.'

  'Thanks. Glad you understand. Do you want to unload Rosa straight away, or come in for a coffee and talk about her?'

  'Let's unload her, she's been in the box for several hours.'

  'We can put her straight into the small paddock. I like to keep the newcomers separate for the first night, so that they get used to all the others around.'

  Rosa was led across to a paddock opening straight into the yard. She began to graze immediately, totally ignoring Doc and the other animals. From the adjacent paddock several llamas peered at her, putting their long necks inquisitively over the fence, but she was too intent on feeding to take any notice.

  They left her and went into the house, where Doc and Graham Porter entered into a very technical discussion about blood lines, gestation periods, type of coats, shearing, different fibre qualities, micron counts, and other things Lucy didn't even try to understand.

  'So you think Cappuccino is the right mate for her?' Graham asked.

  Graham saw Lucy's look of astonishment. 'Cappuccino?' she asked. 'That seems an odd name for an animal.'

  'It's because of the white tuft on top of his head.'

  Doc was nodding. 'From all I've researched, he seems ideal. He has the breeding, the qualities I want, and he's the right age. Three, you say?'

  'Some males are mature before they're a year, but it's best to keep them until three, before breeding from them, if possible.'

  Her head was reeling when they drove away. There was so much more to get to know about llamas than she'd imagined.

  Doc had booked them into a small riverside hotel a few miles from the farm. 'The menu here looks good,' he said after they'd checked in and were in the lift on the way to their rooms. 'Shall we eat here tonight? We can explore other restaurants tomorrow. I need to give the dogs a run now, so you can have a long soak if you want.'

  She thought he'd probably had enough driving, and by staying here he would be able to drink. It didn't matter to her, it had been weeks since she'd had a meal in a good restaurant.

  'Then let's meet in the bar at seven.'

  That gave her a couple of hours to soak in the bath, wash her hair and titivate. She'd brought the red trouser suit she'd worn at Melanie's party, as it was the only really smart outfit she had. Normally she didn't wear bright nail polish, but she had a bottle that matched, and spent ages carefully applying it and waving her hands about to dry. She was determined not to get it uneven or smudged, which is what usually happened when she put it on in a hurry. She was doing the right hand, which was always more difficult for a right-handed person, when the phone shrilled. She jumped, and the bottle tipped up, oozing polish over her hair brush and comb.

  She snatched up the receiver at the same time as she tried to right the bottle without smudging the wet nails. 'Yes?'

  'A call for you, I'm putting it through,' the hotel receptionist trilled.

  Who, apart from Doc, could be calling her? Mrs Thomas? Did Flick know? No one else could know where they were staying. She heard a variety of clicks, and then a husky voice began to talk.

  'Hello, darling. How's it going? How's dear Rosa settling in?'

  'What? Who? I think you have the wrong number.'

  She slammed down the receiver and sat looking at it. She was pretty sure the voice belonged to Alice. The hotel must have muddled the rooms, and put her through to her rather than Doc. Were they an item? Was it Doc Mrs Rogers had meant when she'd hinted at an engagement?

  Suddenly all her excitement at the prospect of a romantic evening evaporated. She could never compete with the beautiful, gentle, friendly Alice.

  *

  Surveying the smudged nails on her right hand, Lucy tried to think sensible thoughts. She had had enough of men, hadn't she? Edward had put her off them for good, hadn't he? She didn't want to get involved with anyone, did she? She was quite content with her life, wasn't she? And how on earth could she ever have imagined that she might attract a man like Doc?

  She looked at her watch. It was ten to seven. She'd just have time to redo the right hand nails, if she put on her trouser suit first and was careful not to touch anything for half an hour. She scrabbled in her bag for the polish remover, and it wasn't there. Damn. She'd have to paint over the smudged polish and hope it wouldn't turn out too much of a mess.

  It did, it was lumpy and there were smudges of polish on her fingers. but there was nothing she could do about it except try and hide that hand. The keys to the door were the old-fashioned kind that one had to put in the keyhole and turn, and doing this left-handed was tricky. So was punching the lift buttons. It's incredible how we never even think about these things when we are doing them the normal way, she thought, frustrated.

  She got to the bar and saw Doc sitting on a stool chatting to the girl behind the bar. She was a busty redhead, showing a lot of cleavage, and she gave Lucy a thin smile when she slid onto the stool next to Doc.

  She thought slid, but it was more of a shuffle, as the stool was high and she couldn't use her right hand to help push herself on. She almost fell off backwards, heaving herself a little too enthusiastically in an attempt to gain enough height.

  Doc grinned at her, and she couldn't decide if he was being friendly or laughing at her. She decided she'd assume the former, and grinned inanely b
ack. He ordered her a gin and tonic and pushed the little bowl of peanuts towards her.

  'Did they put Alice's call through to you?'

  She'd agonised over whether to mention it, but decided it would look more suspicious if she didn't.

  'Yes. She said a woman answered. That must have been you. They got our rooms confused, I suppose. She says her aunt is much better, will be out of hospital tomorrow. And she sent you her love.'

  Grr! Lucy tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. Luckily Doc was reading the menu and didn't notice, and she was able to take a few deep breaths and reply normally when he asked what she wanted.

  They'd had a lavish picnic lunch, and she ought to have had something light, but the steak Diane looked good, so she chose that. Doc followed suit and ordered a bottle of Burgundy.

  By the time they were called to the table she'd downed two gins and forgotten about her smudged nails. The dining room had pale green walls with pictures painted directly on them. Frescoes? Murals? She wasn't sure. The table cloths were dark green, with deep pink napkins and vases of dark red roses. She was suddenly reminded of Cuticurls. It was clearly a very expensive place. Her copy of the menu hadn't shown prices, the tables were spaced well apart, and there were elaborate floral decorations sitting on top of tall stands all round the room. The huge windows were draped in dark red velvet curtains, and one pair was open. It led out to a terrace smothered in more pots of flowers, and beyond smooth lawns sloped down to a river which glistened faintly between some trees.

  'Tell me about llamas. What happens now?' she asked. 'Do they put her and the male together in a special box like they do horses? I've read about how some stallions treat mares very roughly.'

  Doc laughed. 'It's nothing like that. They'll put them together in a small field, and let them get on with it. Sometimes it can take a while for the male to get interested. But we'll go back tomorrow and see how they are getting on.'

  It seemed a little voyeuristic to Lucy, watching Rosa and her boyfriend, despite what she'd told Edward, but she did want to see more of these animals. They were beginning to intrigue her.