Cowgirl

by G. R. Gemin

  “It’s not just that though. He feels bad about taking the cows off everyone.”

  “But they’re his cows.”

  “I told him that. I told him. But he’s upset about it now, and that’s down to me. I made out it was all down to Mostyn putting pressure on him, but I knew it wasn’t just that. There was no way out. Dad’s desperate to do what’s right. And it’s all worse because of what I did…”

  When I saw her tears that did it for me. I put my hand on her shoulder. “Listen. We’ll go and see Clipboard Phillips. If he doesn’t want to help we’ll … we’ll smash up his office…” Kate looked at me. “Just joking. We’ll say we’ll go to the papers…”

  “No. I don’t think––”

  “Yeah, Kate! We’ll go to the papers, tell them about the fete, and start a campaign, you know, like you see on the telly. We want the cows for the Bryn Mawr…” I glanced at the sheet of paper. “So that ‘inner-city children, in particular, can gain an understanding of sustainable agri…culture and the invaluable contribution of farming and livestock’…”

  “Livestock,” said Kate.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “You said ‘livstock’.”

  “Oh. ‘…the invaluable contribution of farming and livestock to all nations of the world … including Wales’.”

  “Including Wales?”

  “I added that bit.”

  Kate smiled. Job done.

  When we got to Cardiff we walked until we got to this office-type building.

  “This the place?” I asked.

  She nodded – definitely nervous, she was.

  “Come on then,” I said, and led the way in.

  There were two receptionists behind a long counter. One was busy and the other glanced at us and said, “Can I help?”

  “We’d like to see Mr Phillips,” said Kate.

  “D’you have an appointment?”

  “No.”

  “And you are?”

  “Kate Thomas.”

  “And Gemma Matthews,” I added, brushing my hair behind my ear. I wished I had a briefcase or something with me, just to look the business.

  “Why d’you want to see him, exactly?”

  “It’s about the Bryn Mawr Dozen,” I said.

  “The what?”

  “The cows on the Bryn Mawr.”

  She smiled. “Oh, yes.”

  I looked at Kate and winked.

  “Mr Phillips?” said the receptionist into the phone. “I have Kate Thomas for you … and a Gemma Matthews… No. She’s here, in reception.” Pause. “The Bryn Mawr cows…” Another pause. “Very well.” She put the phone down. “Someone will be down directly.”

  “Thank you very much,” I said to her, like I was totally with it.

  I sat with Kate on these squeaky leather chairs while we waited. I tried to learn the printout Kate gave me, as I thought it might be useful. Then I noticed a yoghurt stain on my tracksuit top from breakfast. I was trying to rub it off when a woman came up to us.

  “Kate and Gemma? Would you follow me?”

  She took us down corridors and through this big office with people at computers. They all looked at me and Kate as we went by. I nodded at them, like I was important, but at the same time wished I hadn’t worn my jeans and tracksuit top with the yoghurt stain.

  We were shown into a small office, and there was Mr Phillips, the man from Defra, ’cept he wasn’t wearing his wellies.

  The woman who took us there said, “Would you like a tea?”

  “Yes, please,” I said just as Kate said, “No, thank you.” So I said, “Nah,” coughed and crossed my legs.

  “Right,” said Mr Phillips. “What’s this about?”

  He didn’t smile, which wasn’t a good start.

  “We want to start a City Farm on the Bryn Mawr,” said Kate.

  He looked at us like we’d said something rude. He opened his mouth to speak.

  “So that inner-city children can understand anti…culture and livestock…” I said, but something came out wrong as he seemed well puzzled. “So that kids get to know about cows, basically.”

  Mr Phillips nodded slowly. “But I don’t see how I can help.”

  I stood up. “Right! We’ll go to the papers then.”

  Kate kicked me and I knew I’d put my foot in it.

  FORTY SIX

  I felt terrible on the bus going back. “Sorry, Kate.”

  “It’s all right – he wasn’t exactly gagging to help anyway.”

  “Why don’t we go see Mostyn again?” I suggested.

  Kate shook her head. “No. I don’t want to make things any worse.”

  My phone rang. It was Mam.

  “Hiya.”

  “Just want you to know your dad’s home.”

  “What, now?”

  “Yeah. Remember what I said – I want things nice and easy, Gemma. OK?”

  “Yes, Mam.” Before I hung up I quickly said, “Loads of love.”

  “What’s up?” Kate asked.

  “My dad’s home.”

  “For good?”

  “Just the weekend. He’ll be at the fete – you’ll see him.”

  “I don’t think I want to come to the fete.”

  “Why not?”

  “Sorry, Gemma. I know you, Lilly and everyone are taking trouble to organise it an’ all, but … all those people and the cows, I just…”

  “S’all right. I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t thought of it now.”

  “No, it’s a nice idea.”

  “No, honestly. I was thinking, we’re going to have a big party and then the cows will be gone and everything will go back to how it was on the Mawr. What’s to celebrate? It’ll be the scuzzy place it always was. I don’t want that. No one wants it.”

  We were quiet for the rest of the journey.

  Dad was sitting in the lounge when I got in. Darren was sat next to him, grinning from ear to ear.

  “All right, Gemma?” Dad said as he got up and gave me a hug. He seemed nervous, like he was worried I’d have another go at him.

  “All right,” I said.

  “Hey! Where’s Tom Jones?” He was pointing at the sideboard.

  I’d forgotten about the statue we’d smashed.

  I glanced at Mam and Darren. “Sorry,” I said. “It was––”

  “Knocked him over dusting, I did,” interrupted Mam. “Clumsy.”

  She winked at me.

  “Oh, well. Ne’er mind,” Dad mumbled, staring at the space where the statue used to be.

  “Darren. Give us a hand,” said Mam as she walked into the kitchen.

  I reckon she did it deliberately, leaving me with Dad.

  “It’s good to be out,” he said. “I mean, here.”

  He sat down at the table. “Well, well… Cows on the Mawr.”

  I was still standing and felt a bit awkward. “Not for much longer.”

  “What next, eh? Elephants?” He forced a laugh.

  “We’re having a fete tomorrow.”

  “Aye. Heard you’re behind it?”

  “Mam helped, and Gran, and Darren. Mr Banerjee and Karuna too.” I was waiting for a reaction.

  “There’ll be a Hindu festival – a Holi. That’s it! That’s what Mr Banerjee called it.”

  “Smashing. Hear that, love?” he shouted towards the kitchen. “Holy fete.”

  “Holi, Dad – not holy.”

  Mam came to the doorway with Darren. “You going to go, Rob? There’ll be a lot of eyes on you. A few comments too, no doubt.”

  “I’ll stay here if it’s going to be awkward for you.”

  “I don’t mind,” said Mam. “What about you, Darren?”

  “I’ll smash anyone who says anything nasty.”

  “Gemma?” asked Dad. “It’s your party.”

  I glanced at Mam. I remembered about her saying she was always in, and making the most of Dad being here. “You got to face them some time, Dad,” I said.

  “You’re r
ight. I’ll hide from no one – out in the open for all to see.”

  Like the cows, I thought, before they’re taken away.

  “Gemma.”

  Darren came up to me looking really serious.

  “I found out who did it, Gem – who beat up Karuna.”

  “Who?”

  “Tobin brothers. I heard them telling someone – laughing about it.”

  “Shouldn’t we tell the police, Mam?” I said.

  “Yeah, we should.” She went over to the phone.

  Dad stood up. “What are you doing?”

  “Karuna was badly beaten up, Robbie,” said Mam. “Right next door to Gran’s.”

  “Listen. No son of mine’s gonna be a grass.”

  Mam turned on him. “What! That what you learned inside, Robbie? It’s OK to see someone beat up and leave it alone? Look away, is it? Let it go on and on – forever and ever?”

  Dad’s face went red. “What’s got into you lot?” he said. “I come back and you’re talking about cows and having a fete and … and grassing on someone, just because them next door—”

  “DON’T MAKE IT GO BACK, DAD!”

  My voice filled the room like a lion.

  “Don’t make it go back to how it was, Dad, please. I love the way things are now, honest to God.” I looked at Mam and Darren. “We love it. If you want it to go back to how it was, then…” I started to cry. “Then you might as well go back inside.”

  I ran upstairs.

  I was lying on the bed in the dark when there was a knock at the door.

  “Not now, Dad,” I said. “Leave me alone, please.”

  “It’s me, Gemma,” said Darren. “Can I come in?”

  That was the first time he’d ever asked.

  He came in quietly and sat on the end of my bed. “Mam’s called the police,” he said. “They’re coming to ask me some questions.”

  I sat up. “Good.”

  “I’m worried, Gem. I don’t want to be a grass.”

  “What’s a grass, Darren?”

  “You know – someone who tells on someone.”

  “And why is it bad?”

  He shrugged. “Just is. No one likes a grass.”

  “Darren, what if the Tobin brothers had attacked me? Or Mam? Or your gran? What then?”

  “But…”

  “But it’s OK if they beat up someone else. Is that it?”

  He sighed. “No. Course not, but what if I get called a grass by kids?”

  “You tell ’em cows love grass.”

  He smiled. I put my arm around his shoulder. “If someone lays a finger on you, Darren, you promise to tell me, yeah?”

  He nodded. “What would you do, Gem?”

  “I’ll tell ’em what you did was right. Then I’ll send Kate round.”

  He grinned.

  “What’s Dad doing?”

  “He’s all quiet. Come downstairs, Gem. I want you to be there when the police get here.”

  My brother was asking me to be with him – after that nothing was going to surprise me.

  “Come on then.”

  FORTY SEVEN

  We were up at the crack of dawn with tons to do.

  Dad wasn’t down, as he was having a lie-in, but to be honest I was glad he stayed in bed as I wanted to concentrate on the fete and everything. Me and Mam’s mobiles were ringing non-stop. Then Mam said, “Right! We’re gonna sit down and have a proper breakfast, cos we’ll need it. I’m putting these phones in the fridge so we can have some peace.”

  She did, too. Me and Darren laughed. It was while we were taking the breakfast things through that I had this funny thought. I was carrying the carton of milk, and as I put it on the table I said, “Mam. How much milk do we use in a day?”

  “One of those easy,” she replied.

  As I poured the milk in my bowl of cereal I was thinking that a litre was a lot just between me, Darren and Mam.

  “D’you reckon we could do without milk, Mam?”

  “Oh Gemma! C’mon. A drop of milk isn’t going to—”

  “No, Mam. I wasn’t having a go, honest. But it would be difficult for all of us, wouldn’t it? No cereal or cups of tea or coffee, or milk for cooking.”

  “Well, some people use soya milk,” she said.

  “Vomit,” said Darren. “I want proper milk.”

  “I’m not saying we shouldn’t have milk, I’m not.”

  I didn’t know why I suddenly felt upset, but I couldn’t get the thought of milk out of my head. It was a bit weird.

  “What is it, love?” Mam asked.

  “I love milk,” I said into the megaphone.

  The marquee was in front of me. It was big enough for all the stalls to fit inside, so that people could drift in and out. There were loads of people, masses of them. In the middle of the Common were the thirteen cows. Donna’s new calf was the star attraction, but then she was the cutest thing you ever saw. The music was faded out and everyone had come to a standstill when Gran had spoken to them through the megaphone.

  When she handed it to me I was absolutely bricking myself.

  I swallowed. “I love milk…” I said again. “I had milk this morning. So did my brother, and my mam and dad…” It sounded stupid, but I couldn’t stop now. Mam smiled and gave me a nod of encouragement. “I sat there thinking about milk. Everyone on the Mawr would have milk on their table, same as me. All the supermarkets would have their shelves stacked up with milk cartons – all different sizes. There’s two supermarkets just on the Mawr alone, plus all the shops that sell milk. And apparently, the milk in cartons would’ve been in a cow only one or two days before. I wonder how many cartons of milk there are in Wales right now, in shops and fridges at home, and I wonder how many in Britain? Millions and millions, I suppose. Kate told me that farmers like Mr Thomas only get about a third of the price we pay for a litre. Not much, is it? It’s cheap, when you think what you can do with milk. But the thing is, all the milk, everywhere in the world, all comes from cows like Jane. Millions of cows giving up millions of litres of their milk, just for us…”

  They stared at me in silence.

  “When I looked at that carton of milk this morning I thought about cows… They haven’t a clue how much we need their milk, and all they want is grass. It’s mad when you think about it. Grass is everywhere. We’re standing on it, and like my brother Darren said, you put grass in one end of a cow and milk comes out the other. It’s like magic. Well, it is magic! Anyway, I told my mam this at breakfast this morning, and she told Gran who asked me to tell you…”

  Everyone was looking at me, like they were waiting for the point, but that was it. That was all I thought at the breakfast table. I handed the megaphone back to Gran, and then they all started clapping. Well embarrassed, I was, and pleased at the same time. I saw Mam grinning, and then I noticed Dad beside her. It was odd seeing him there. I suppose it was because I hadn’t seen him outside, as it were, for ages. There he was, stood among all the people, smiling at me but looking lost.

  I went over to him. “Hi, Dad!” I said as cheerily as I could.

  “Lovely speech, girl,” he said. “Proud of you, I am.”

  “You tasted Gran’s cheese yet?”

  “No.”

  “Come on then.”

  I took him over to Gran in the tent, where loads of people were trying her cheese and butter. “Welcome home, Robbie,” she said.

  Dad nodded. “Thanks, Lilly.”

  “Hello, Robbie!” Roger said. “Let you out, did they? Or did you saw through the bars?”

  “Roger!” Mam snapped.

  “It’s all right, Claire,” said Dad. “Just having a joke, weren’t you, Rodge?”

  Roger looked embarrassed. “Course I was.”

  Drums started beating and bells were ringing – the Holi festival had begun. Three huge kites rose up with multicoloured tails hanging down. People were throwing coloured powder into the sky. It was wild, like a rainbow exploding. I ended up with yellow a
nd red in my hair, and on my clothes. It made it seem like a proper festival, a festival for the cows. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, but I wished Kate was there to see it all, even if it made her sad knowing the cows would be sold. I noticed Karuna was controlling one of the kites, pulling at the line as he moved backwards.

  “Gemma,” he called.

  As he came level with me he said, “I wanted to thank you, your mother and your brother.”

  “What for?”

  “The police came and took fingerprints off my flute. Some were not mine, and they think they may belong to the boys that attacked me and tried to take it.”

  “Good.”

  “And we should all thank you for this – the fete.”

  I shrugged and could feel my cheeks getting warm.

  “D’you want to hold the kite?”

  “Go on then.”

  He handed me the ball of string. “Be careful – it’s windy.”

  As soon as I took it I could feel the power of the wind, pulling at me, like the kite wanted to get away and fly on its own. As I watched it high up in the sky, the tail making a rattling sound in the wind, I forgot about all that was going on – all the upset and worry. I forgot the cows would have to be taken away. For a moment I was happy watching that kite moving back and forth. I glanced down to see if Mam was watching and noticed that Dad was gone.

  “Where’s Dad?” I called out to her.

  “It’s a bit much for him, love,” she said. “He’s gone back home.”

  She smiled, but I could tell she was upset. I didn’t like the thought of Dad on his own, so I handed the kite back to Karuna. “I’ve got to go, sorry.”

  FORTY EIGHT

  I expected Dad to be lying on the settee watching TV when I got in, but the house was quiet. I thought he was having a nap until I went through to the kitchen and there he was, sitting with his back to me.

  He turned with a start. “Gemma! You shocked the living—”

  “Sorry, Dad.”

  “Why are you covered in paint?”

  I must have looked freaky. “It’s Hindu Holi – celebrating spring.”

  “Oh… What you doing back so early?”

  “Didn’t fancy staying. Too many people.” It wasn’t the truth but I didn’t want him to tell me to go back. I flicked on the kettle. “Want a cup of tea? I’m gasping.”