The Slaughter Man

by Cassandra Parkin

  “You know we have to take him back,” Joe says.

  The goat’s muzzle twitches. Willow wonders what he’s dreaming about.

  “Look at me so I know you’re listening. That’s better. Willow, he’s very sweet, but he’s not ours, okay? He’s a farm animal, he’s worth money, and Katherine’s going to want him back.”

  We could buy him. I could buy him for you. How much can a goat possibly cost? I’ve got money.

  “And even if I bought him, we can’t look after him properly.”

  She looks disbelievingly around at the pen they’re sitting in.

  “Yes I know, but it’s not just about having a proper enclosure. He needs to be with other goats. They’re herd animals. They don’t like to be on their own. Why do you think he’s following you around?”

  He could be a House Goat.

  “And he can’t live in the house, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’d pee everywhere.” Joe reaches gently out to the goat’s long silky ear, pulling it between his fingers. “And he’s a billy. He won’t stay this cute. He’ll get huge and he’ll stink and he’ll be territorial. If he hasn’t got any females to look after, he’ll go looking for some, and he’ll get down to Katherine’s place and start fights and try and mate with his relatives.”

  Willow’s pancake is sticking in her throat. She swallows hard to get it down, feeling as if she’s eaten a stone.

  “But thank you for bringing him. It was a really nice thought.”

  Why do you have all this space for raising animals, when you don’t have any actual animals? The question fills her mouth, begging to be set free. Come to think of it, why have you got a dog bed but no dog? What’s the point of living in the country if you’re not going to do country stuff?

  “We were planning to raise some livestock,” Joe says. “Me and Shaun, I mean. Nothing complicated, but enough to feel like we were joining in. Some chickens. A couple of pigs.”

  So where are the chickens? Why has Katherine got the pigs? Perhaps her silence is an advantage. Perhaps he might feel he can tell her, knowing she’ll never tell anybody else. The pen’s very hot and the concrete’s very hard, but nonetheless she feels safe and comfortable, surrounded by her own improvised miniature herd. Doesn’t he feel it too? Doesn’t he want the safety that comes in numbers?

  “Right,” he says, and gives her that smooth bright smile that tells her she’s shut out again. “I’ll give Katherine a call. She’s probably wondering where this chap’s got to. Don’t worry, she won’t be angry with you. She never really gets angry with anybody.” He reaches out for the goat’s ear again, and laughs when the goat twitches it away from his fingers. “He can come in the house if he absolutely must, but only the kitchen. No goats in the bedrooms, you understand?” Willow nods reluctantly. “Of course, if you happened to leave your outside door open, and if he happened to climb up the outside staircase, I probably wouldn’t ever have to know about it.”

  Her first heroic plan is to sit with the goat for as long as he wants to sleep, but he’s much heavier than he looks, and after a while her legs begin to hurt. When she drags herself out from underneath him, he staggers blearily to his feet and follows her out of the pen, pausing for a long drink from the bucket.

  Revived by his drink, he needs no coaxing to climb the stairs, skipping into her room as if he’s done this every day of his life. Within seconds he has his face in the bin. When he raises it again, he’s chewing smugly on a crumpled tissue. She tries to take it out, but he responds by hoovering the tissue into his mouth at double-speed, his jaw rotating faster and faster as he devours his treat. The kitten scrabbles onto the chest of drawers, arches his back and fluffs up his tail.

  Tissue consumed, the goat looks around the room with interest to see what else he can steal. They lunge simultaneously for her history notebook. Willow’s fractionally quicker, but the goat takes his revenge by lifting his tail and expelling a stream of pungent black pellets onto the rug.

  He’s been in her bedroom for under three minutes, and he’s already causing chaos. She leads him back out onto the staircase, then tries to shut the door in his face, but he guesses what she’s planning and barges his way back in again, determined not to be left alone. She has to drag him away from the cable of the lamp before he electrocutes himself. The kitten watches in appalled fascination.

  You can’t stay here, she admits reluctantly to herself. She still doesn’t see why he can’t live out in Joe’s pen – possibly joined by his little sister, which surely won’t be a problem since apparently the herd’s getting too big – but her half-formed secret-goat-in-the-bedroom plan is never going to happen. He’s nudged open a drawer and is nibbling thoughtfully on the string of one of her hoodies. She tugs it out of his mouth, trying not to mind that it’s now covered in slime, and leads him back into the yard.

  The goat shit will have to wait until he’s left. He clearly can’t be trusted on his own. She pulls up a handful of dandelions, stuffs them into her pocket, and feeds them to him in scraps. His capacity for food seems never-ending.

  She’s expecting Katherine to arrive through the woods, and isn’t prepared for the loud rattling arrival of the Land Rover, complete with a thing on the back like a horsebox. Suddenly the yard is very small and full of diesel fumes, and she and the goat hide behind the empty chicken coop as Katherine and Luca climb down from the cabin. For the first time, it dawns on Willow what she’s done. She stole from Katherine – not an egg that would be replaced the next day, or a kitten that Katherine didn’t want anyway, but a whole goat. Is she in trouble? She watches Katherine’s face apprehensively. There’s a certain tightness around the corners of her mouth, but when she sees Willow, the smile she gives her before disappearing into the kitchen is as friendly as ever.

  “Did you seriously get that thing to follow you all the way through the woods?” Luca looks at the goat in disbelief. “What the fuck, mate?”

  Willow isn’t sure if he’s asking her how the fuck did you do it, or what the fuck were you thinking. She settles for a shrug.

  “You didn’t have to carry it or nothing? So how did you get it over the fence? Mate, you did not lift that thing over the fence. You did not.” He looks her up and down. “Your upper body strength must be absolutely mad.”

  Is he looking at her arms? Or at her breasts? When their eyes meet for a moment, they both look quickly away again. She scratches lightly at the goat’s back. When Luca reaches out to do the same, their fingers meet.

  “How’d you make him follow you?” Luca asks her. He’s holding on to her fingers, his touch light and casual, but she can tell from the way he won’t quite meet her gaze that this contact matters, more than either of them want to admit.

  Moving awkwardly because she only has one hand free, she takes a scrap of dandelion from her pocket and holds it out. The goat takes it from her, then follows as she leads him and Luca down the path towards the fence.

  “You’re a goat whisperer,” Luca says. “The Magical Goat Girl of Great Britain.”

  It’s only because I feed him, she thinks.

  “That’s your superpower.” His laugh is a little too loud, the voice he chooses afterwards a little too soft. “Goat Whispering. Makes up for the not-talking thing.”

  He’s being a twat, but he’s nervous and talking nonsense to cover it up, so she’ll forgive him. His hand moves over hers, their palms kissing as he takes a firmer hold. They’re unquestionably holding hands now, there’s no possibility of passing it off as anything else. His other hand falls to her hip, pulls her closer, in a clumsy parody of confidence so raw and vulnerable she feels her heart crack a little bit. They’re going to kiss and they both know it, but they still have to pretend they’re not, in case the other one backs out at the last minute.

  Is this the best bit? The moment before his mouth comes down on hers? No, the best bit is the part that’s happening right now, the sweet moment of contact and the dizziness in her ears and the touch of their tongues an
d the leap in their chests and their bodies moving closer. His movements are clumsy, as if he’s only seen kissing acted out on a screen. She’s very aware of the rhythm of his breath, of how tense he is, as if he’s still expecting her to push him away. His hands tremble on her waist, and he breaks the kiss so he can look into her eyes. He looks terrified. It’s all right, she thinks, this is good. How can he not understand that she wants this?

  “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he says. “I mean, you can’t exactly tell me if it’s not all right, can you? I mean, I could do fucking anything to you, I could go on and on, and you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone, would you?”

  But what if I want you to carry on? His kiss is in her bloodstream, racing and looping through her body. Does he not like her after all? Is he trying to let her down gently? Does she dare to reach out for him? She takes his hand, takes a step closer. He smells of deodorant and clean sweat, and it should be repulsive but it isn’t. She lifts her face towards his. His body trembles like a wire filled with electricity.

  “Hey, you two.” Katherine calls down the garden. “We’re coming for the goat now. So if there’s any shenanigans going on, now’s your chance to hide the evidence.”

  “Best stop there then,” Luca mutters, and they break apart, not quite daring to look at each other, as if they’ve each caught the other one doing something private and shameful, and now they both need some space while everyone forgets what they’ve seen. When Joe and Katherine arrive, Willow finds she can’t look at them either.

  “Come on then, mister.” Katherine holds out a handful of pellets to the goat. He tosses his head and looks disdainful. “I see. Too good for pellets now, are you?”

  “He likes dandelions.” Luca’s voice has the artificial ring of someone trying to sound comfortable. “That’s what Willow gave him.”

  “Spoiled beast,” says Katherine, without any rancour at all. “All right then, we’ll go for something green instead.” She plucks a handful of bramble leaves. “This way.”

  And to Willow’s faint disappointment, as if he’d never clung to her side and followed her every move as if she was his queen and his goddess, the goat trots after Katherine.

  “Fickle creatures,” Joe tells her. “He knows which side his bread’s buttered.”

  At a safe distance, they follow the goat down the path to watch Katherine load him into the trailer. She climbs in; the goat follows; he spots the hay net hanging limply from the back of the trailer; he begins to tug at the hay; Katherine climbs out again and shuts the door. The whole procedure is impressively neat. Willow wants to applaud, but she’s afraid it would be taken as sarcasm.

  “Sorry again that my niece stole your goat,” says Joe.

  “It’s all right.” Katherine smiles at Willow. “At least he had his last hurrah before he gets shipped off.”

  Where is he going next? Perhaps to become the godfather of his own new herd, to sit majestically in his own field and let his beard grow thick and his horns grow long. He’ll mate with all the females, and boss their kids around, and watch over the growth of his own family. She’s aware of Luca close beside her, just as he must be aware of her. What’s going to happen between them now? The kiss is like an anchor, holding them to a single moment. One of them needs to decide what comes next.

  “Come over later,” Luca mutters, sounding almost reluctant, almost angry. “If you want, I mean. Nothing heavy.”

  His words are ungracious but his body’s telling her something else entirely, not touching her but not staying in his own space either, his eyes bright and eager, his hand half-reaching for hers. She nods.

  “About four maybe? I’ve got stuff to do this afternoon.”

  She nods again.

  “Come for tea if you like,” says Katherine, startling Willow, who hadn’t known Katherine was listening. Her smile includes Joe. “Both of you, I mean. I’ll feed everyone at about six. So you’ll have a couple of hours to mooch around first.”

  “That’s so nice of you,” says Joe. “Willow, you go for tea if you like. But I can’t.”

  “Course you can. Come and keep me company while the young ’uns are climbing all over the hay loft.”

  Her words are casual, but there’s something oddly urgent in tone that Willow, feeling as sensitive as if she’s been peeled, is suddenly aware of. Katherine really, truly wants Joe to come over for dinner. What does this mean? What has Katherine seen that she hasn’t? In the moment when they’re not being looked at, something takes hold of her fingers and strokes them gently. It’s Luca, his fingers warm and clammy against hers. His index finger makes a brief, shy circuit of her palm. She holds her breath.

  “I’ve got to work,” Joe says, and now he too sounds reluctant, as if there might be something in Katherine’s request beyond a simple offer of a meal.

  “It’ll keep. It’s not good for you to be alone.”

  “All on my own for three hours in the evening. Whatever will I do?” He sounds as if he’s mocking someone. Himself? Surely not Katherine, who’s made the offer in kindness and doesn’t deserve to be laughed at. “Besides, I’ve got that kitten Willow lifted from your latest batch. He’ll keep me out of trouble.”

  “Ah, is that where he went?” Katherine smiles. “I thought maybe a fox had him. Is he staying?”

  “Apparently.” He ruffles Willow’s hair. She forces herself to let him. “You have to stop nicking livestock from Katherine though, all right? Absolutely no more stolen animals.”

  “Oh, I’ve always got kittens to spare,” says Katherine. “Have the lot if you want, we’re overrun. I’ll probably have to drown the next litter. And if you change your mind about dinner, just turn up. There’ll be enough.” She’s climbing into the cabin of the Land Rover as she says this, and Luca finally breaks free of Willow’s hand and hoists himself into the other side, and then there’s the awkwardness of feeling endlessly in the way as Katherine turns the car and trailer around, a complex manoeuvre even though she seems to know what she’s doing, and then they’re gone.

  Drifting back up to her bedroom, her body still awash with Luca’s presence, she remembers that the goat has shat all over the floor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  She’s ready long before it’s time, but then when the time comes for her to leave, she’s suddenly not ready at all. In the moment when the clock turns over towards twenty minutes to four, all her clothes become the wrong clothes, her body becomes the wrong body; her face is ugly and laughable, and her hair’s too long. What’s the matter with her? He’s just a boy. He liked her enough to kiss her earlier. And why does she even care? After what she’s been through, after everything that’s happened, what does the opinion of one fairly ordinary boy matter?

  It’s healthy to move on. She’s never been a patient in her mother’s office, never chosen between the comfortable sofa and the office chair, but she hears these words in her mother’s voice. She can picture her expression: warm, supportive, professional. Try not to feel guilty for feeling normal. If she confessed that she and Luca kissed that morning, would her mother be pleased?

  If she wants to get there on time, she needs to go now. Does she want to get there on time, though? Will that look too eager? Does she have time to change again? No, she doesn’t, and besides, she needs to get over this. It’s Luca. No one special. She clatters down the stairs to the kitchen.

  “Are you off?” Joe is cleaning the already-clean kitchen worktop, his cloth making slow smooth swooping circles across the wood. “I’m not coming, I’ve got some stuff I need to get done. But if you get a chance can you thank Katherine for—” He shakes his head impatiently. “Sorry, sorry, ignore me. Have a good time, all right?”

  Katherine will be disappointed, but Willow’s relieved. She needs the walk to get her face and thoughts in order. She doesn’t want company.

  She’s eager to go, but now Joe’s hovering, looking her up and down as if he wants to adjust her somehow. Does this mean she’s worn the wrong clothes? She
knows it’s a cliché that gay men are good at clothes, but nonetheless…

  “Will you be all right coming back? Do you want me to come over and get you and walk you home?” She shakes her head. “No you don’t want me to come and get you?” She nods. “Okay, sorry, I know this is annoying but I need to check, do you or don’t you want me to come and get you?” She shakes her head, trying not to let her annoyance show. “So you’re definitely coming home on your own then. Good.”

  There’s something else he wants to say, but she doesn’t have the time to listen, and besides, she’s allowed to be oblivious to other people’s wants and needs. She gives him a quick little hug.

  “And no goats coming home with you, all right?”

  In their field, the goats are anxious, milling around as if they’re expecting something to happen. When she climbs over the fence, the billy puts himself between her and the rest of the herd, not threatening her exactly but definitely keeping an eye. Well, she did steal one of his children earlier. She’d thought about stopping for a quick cuddle with the goat she borrowed this morning, but she doesn’t like the way the billy’s looking at her, and she’s afraid he’ll bowl her over in the mud and make her filthy. It’s not the mud she minds so much as the thought that Luca will know the goat went for her. She’s glad when she reaches the other side of the field safely.

  “Hello there.” Katherine is in the vegetable beds, picking the long brown bean pods from the tatty-looking vines. “Luca’s around somewhere. Do you want to give me a hand with these?”

  Willow climbs cautiously between the long strands of string that form a rudimentary fence, and begins to pluck the pods, enjoying the crisp snap as they break off between her fingers.

  “Get them all,” Katherine says. “Then the vines can come out and make some room. Oh, hello, Luca. Can I leave you two to get on with this? Once you’ve got them picked you can rip out the vines too if you fancy it, but don’t worry if you’ve got things to do.”