‘Can that happen?’
‘Sometimes. Lambs are smothered in their sleep, or their tails chewed off while Mam’s cleaning them up …’ She stepped forward and deftly picked up the lamb by its front legs. The tiny thing instantly went limp, swinging from her hand like a child’s toy. ‘Let’s get mother and baby to the infirmary,’ she said, nodding in the direction of the large barn in the next field. ‘I spotted Marco and Luca heading that way. They can keep an eye on them.’
Chapter 8
‘Luca! Marco! Are you there?’ Vinnie called when she marched into the barn. ‘We’ve one here who might need some looking out for.’
The building was divided into fourteen pens, seven at each side. About ten were currently occupied. Some contained new mothers, with either one or two lambs apiece, while a few contained lambs only. These parentless infants kept up a shrill, urgent wailing that very quickly became part of the unnoticed background noise.
‘Pet lambs,’ Vinnie told Edie. ‘Orphans, or rejected by the mothers, so they need to be fed by hand.’
Edie peered at something half hidden by the straw on the floor, and her eyes widened.
A dead lamb!
She approached and prodded it lightly with her wellington. No, not a lamb. Or not a whole lamb. Just the skin, freshly cut from the body. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a wave of nausea.
She knew why. They’d been told about this during training. When a ewe rejected her baby, or when she died giving birth, the lamb would be wrapped in the hide of another sheep’s dead offspring – still covered in embryonic juices from the birth – so it could be adopted by a foster mother. That was the way lives were saved. Still, Edie shuddered as she stepped away from the bloody fleece.
There was no sign of Luca, but a face belonging to an older man who she presumed must be the second prisoner, Marco, popped up from one of the pens.
‘Let me see him.’ He approached Vinnie to examine the lamb and prodded it in a few places. ‘He seems healthy, for an early arrival. Is there some problem, Lavinia?’
‘A bit of over-mothering going on. I think we’d better keep an eye on them for a day or two.’ Vinnie looked around. ‘Where’s Luca?’
‘What do you English say? He has gone to spend some pennies?’ he said, grinning. He turned to Edie. ‘And who is this?’
‘Edie Cartwright.’ This time Edie held out her hand without hesitation. ‘Nice to meet you, sir.’
Marco pressed her fingers to his lips with chivalry obviously too ingrained to care how filthy they were. ‘Marco Pia. It is my honour.’
Vinnie settled the lamb in one of the pens while they were making their introductions. Its anxious mother immediately joined it, casting a resentful look at Vinnie before she started washing the little thing again. Coming to life at its parent’s touch, the lamb bleated softly.
Vinnie watched them for a moment before approaching a large piece of slate mounted by the door and adding a chalk mark to one of three tally columns.
‘The left is for single lambs, the centre for twins,’ she told Edie.
‘What about the third one?’
‘That’s deaths.’ She turned to Edie. ‘Look, why don’t you stay here a while? You’ve done your share of the dirty work.’
‘But Mr Nicholson told me I was to –’
‘Oh, bugger Mr Nicholson. It’ll be helpful for you to learn how we care for the little ones.’ She clapped Marco on the shoulder. ‘Come on, old lad. You can help me with the clipping out.’
Marco rolled his eyes at Edie. ‘Can you believe she asks this clipping out of me? You know, at home in Tuscany I was the mayor of my town.’
‘You kept an inn,’ Vinnie said, her lips twitching.
‘This is God’s truth: I did keep an inn, and shall again, I hope, if my wife does not burn the place to the ground before the war ends. Miss Cartwright, mine is the finest inn in Tuscany – no, in all Italy. They say –’
‘They say Pope Leo himself once stayed there,’ Vinnie finished, laughing now. ‘I know, Marco, you’ve told us a thousand times.’
‘And when this is all over you shall visit me there, Lavinia, and see my inn for yourself.’ He waved a lavish hand towards Edie. ‘The two of you shall visit, and Sam and Barbara also. We shall eat olives and oranges and sing all the evening. My Lotta and I should make you most welcome.’
‘And the wine will flow, I’m sure. It’s a nice dream for another day, Marco,’ Vinnie said with a smile. ‘But this is the present, and those sheep’s arses aren’t going to clean themselves.’
‘You see what I must put up with?’ Marco whispered to Edie with a melodramatic sigh, and she laughed as he followed Vinnie out of the barn.
When they were gone, Edie knelt down beside the mother sheep and her new lamb. Mum had left off washing him now and was resting her head on his downy fleece while he suckled.
He was so small. Vinnie had told her the ewes they’d been clipping today weren’t due to give birth for a week or more.
‘Well, little chap, I hope you make it,’ she whispered to the lamb. She glanced at the empty fleeces littering the floor. ‘You’re jolly lucky to be here, really.’
The sky had been glowering all morning, and a low rumble of thunder now filled the air, making Edie flinch.
‘We’re all jolly lucky to be here,’ she muttered to herself.
‘You shudder, Miss Cartwright. Surely a big girl like you is not afraid of the thunder?’
She looked up to discover that Luca had come in. He’d removed his long coat and was in a shabby grey uniform with a large red circle on the back, identical to the one she’d just seen his countryman wearing.
‘You’d shudder too if you’d come from where I have,’ she said as she got to her feet. ‘It isn’t thunder that shakes the skies in London.’
‘I know it,’ he said quietly.
She looked up to meet his eyes, which had that same pinched, haunted expression behind their warmth that she’d noticed earlier.
‘Sorry,’ she said in a softer voice. ‘I didn’t mean to be abrupt. It must have been hellish, actually being up there.’
‘Not so hellish as the landing.’ He turned away. ‘Come, Miss Cartwright.’
‘Please, call me Edie.’
‘Come, Edie. Let me show you something.’
He led her to the door so they could look out at the mountains. The rain was falling now, although lightly. The heart of the storm was still some distance away.
A group of Hurricanes from the nearby airbase flew overhead, trailing white smoke. Edie wondered what they were flying into, and if they’d be coming back. Luca watched them too, until they became mere specks on the horizon.
‘It has a beauty, this place,’ he said, breathing in. ‘Not like the beauty of Naples, where I come from, but a wild one all of its own.’
She followed his gaze to the two mountains.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘Yes, it does.’ She turned to him. ‘Would you stay if they let you? After the war, I mean.’
‘I … do not know.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have a family to go back to?’
‘No family. No children. No wife.’
He spoke with a quiet sadness that made Edie feel she ought not to have asked. Minding her own business was never a virtue of hers. She liked to know about people, and she forgot, sometimes, that not all people cared to be known about.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again.
‘It is no matter.’ Luca summoned a smile. ‘When we are even greater friends than we are now, then I promise I will tell you all about myself. But not at this moment.’ He nodded to the foot of the mountains. ‘In the summer we shall let our sheep and their lambs wander the fells. And you, Edie, shall be a shepherdess. Summer will be a happy time for us here.’
‘What are they called, the mountains?’
‘To the east is High Kirk Crag. To the west, Broad Fell.’
‘Oh.’
He laughed. ‘
You were hoping for something more romantic?’
‘Perhaps a little,’ Edie admitted.
‘In time, when this begins to feel like home, you can give them names of your own invention.’
A rough voice cut through Luca’s soft musings. ‘What’s this, a bloody tea dance?’
Sam appeared from behind the barn, scowling as usual, with a lively but rather fat border collie bouncing at his heels.
Luca cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, Sam.’
‘What are you two doing standing about idle?’ He glared at Edie. ‘You can court in your own time, London.’
‘Luca was just telling me what happens in the summer,’ Edie said, flushing.
‘Aye, well, summer’s summer. This is spring,’ Sam told her shortly. He turned to her companion. ‘Luca, I want the girls to drive into the village for the feed. You’ll go with them and help load the truck, please. I can take over here.’
‘You’re the boss, boss,’ Luca said with a mock salute.
‘And spare them the sodding poetry, can you?’
He shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m Italian.’
Sam allowed himself to smile. He gave Luca a friendly slap on the back, and the POW, looking relieved there were no hard feelings, went to seek out Barbara and Vinnie.
Sam jerked his head towards the inside of the barn. ‘London, with me.’
Edie stood aside to let him in then followed as he strode to the nearest pen. She wasn’t relishing the idea of working alongside Sam instead of the much friendlier Luca, but apparently she didn’t have a choice.
‘Thought I put you on clipping out,’ Sam muttered as he dropped to his knees.
‘I traded jobs with Marco. Vinnie thought it would do me good to –’
‘Well, Vinnie’s not in charge here. Next time, see if you can manage to do as you’re damn well told.’
‘Um, all right,’ she mumbled as she knelt down beside him. ‘Sorry.’
The lamb Sam was examining gave a bleat of protest as he eased it away from its mother and pulled it between his knees. He felt its tiny stomach with firm, gentle hands – surprisingly gentle, Edie thought, considering both the size and roughness of the hands and the surly disposition of their owner.
‘Is it sick?’ she asked.
‘No, but its mam isn’t all she ought to be. His belly’s empty, which means she’s still got no milk. I’d hoped she might by this morning.’
‘So will he die?’ Edie whispered.
He turned to frown at her. ‘Hellfire, London! If you’re going to be blinking saucer eyes at me like a schoolgirl in love then you can go help Davy.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘We don’t have room for sentimentality here,’ he said, reaching beyond her to feel the mother sheep’s udder. ‘Animals get sick. They die. If you can’t cope with that, I wonder you decided to join the Land Army.’
Edie got to her feet.
‘Do you always have to be so jolly rude?’ she demanded.
His eyes skimmed her petite frame as she glared down at him, hands on her hips, and his lips twitched.
‘In the north we call it bluntness,’ he told her.
‘No, in the north you call it rudeness. My father came from this part of the world and he never spoke to women the way you do.’ She touched a finger to the watch chain at her throat. ‘Do you know why? Because he was a gentleman. And you, Sam bloody Nicholson, are no bloody gentleman.’
For the first time in her company, the farmer’s scowl relaxed.
‘You ought to watch your language,’ he said, gesturing to the pens. ‘There’s children present.’
‘And you might want to learn how to show people a little respect. Even Marco and Luca know how to treat a lady, and they’re …’ She faltered. ‘Well, they’re …’
‘They’re what?’ Sam asked quietly.
‘They’re … I mean, they’re not Englishmen, are they? I’d have thought you’d be ashamed to have foreigners show you how you ought to behave.’
‘You’re a bit of a prig, London, do you know that?’
‘I’m a … how dare …’ Edie exhaled through her teeth. ‘You … you complete and utter …’
He grinned. ‘Cat got your tongue, lass? Or can you just not think of anything dire enough to call me?’
‘You …’ Edie racked her brains for something bad enough to really shock him; a word that would have her Aunt Caroline clutching her pearls in horror. ‘You absolute … you absolute arse.’
‘Ouch!’ He put a hand to his heart. ‘London, that hurts.’
Then, to Edie’s immense surprise, Sam started to laugh: a deep, throaty chuckle that crinkled the corners of his eyes. She scowled at him for a second, but soon, unable to resist the infectious absurdity of the situation, she broke into laughter too.
‘All right, Miss Cartwright, you can stand down,’ Sam said, patting the straw. ‘I’m sorry I was rude and I’m sorry I called you a prig. There.’
‘Well, in that case I suppose I’m sorry I called you a – the thing I called you.’ Edie hesitated, then sank back down beside him.
‘You’re right, I’m no gentleman,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m a rough country farmer who’s not had a deal to do with women and has no idea how to talk to them with all the right high-society bustles and bows. My labourers do the work of men, so I talk to them like men. It’s too late for me to change my ways now.’
‘Fine. Just show me what I need to do. I’m here to work, aren’t I?’
He clapped her on the back. ‘Good man.’
Sam leaned across her body, and Edie tensed. What had Barbara said? Keeps his hands to himself … for the most part. Just how far did Sam Nicholson really treat his women workers like men?
They’d been warned about such things by the forthright lady who ran the Land Army training course. Farmers who thought the young girls they were supplied with were there to satisfy more than the needs of the farm; lusty farmhands who couldn’t keep their minds – and their hands – on the job. ‘When in trouble, girls, remember that your best friend is a sharp knee,’ Edie recalled the instructor telling them. But Sam only picked up a bottle with a rubber teat attached and handed it to her.
‘This little one’s hollow,’ he said, nodding to the lamb. ‘Me and you need to give him his feed.’
Edie glanced over her shoulder at the grotesque skinned fleeces on the floor. ‘Wouldn’t you usually pair them with other ewes when the mothers can’t make milk?’
‘If they’re orphaned, or the yow rejects them, we’ll always try to pair with a foster mother. Keeps the lamb alive and stops the yow pining for her dead bairn. But if it’s a case of no milk, we feed by hand and let the mother provide the rest of the nursing. Lamb stands a better chance that way.’ Sam took the bottle from her and got to his feet. ‘I’ll fill this, then you can see how it’s done.’
He returned fifteen minutes later with a full bottle.
‘Milk, egg, sugar and cod liver oil, warmed to body temperature,’ he told her as he pulled the lamb between his knees again. The mother gave a low baa of protest, but Sam ignored her. ‘Half a pint every four hours for newborns. We’ve this little lad to do, then eight more.’ He brought his thighs closer together until the lamb was forced to get up on its wobbly, knock-kneed little legs. ‘Needs to be standing or it might go into his lungs. Hold his head up for me, can you, London?’
Edie did as she was told, gently tilting the lamb’s head upwards while Sam held the bottle above it and let the milk mixture drip into its open mouth. After a few seconds, the lamb was lapping eagerly and Edie was able to draw her hand away as he took the teat for himself. His little tail wagged with appreciative speed while he filled his belly, with Sam taking short breaks every now and again to ensure the lamb didn’t finish its meal too quickly.
‘Right, that’s enough,’ Sam said after ten minutes. He patted the anxious mother as he restored her offspring. ‘Sorry to upset you, old lady, but you’ll thank me for it when he grows up big a
nd strong. Might even be tup material, this lad.’ He gave the lamb a pat as well. ‘Now there’s a life to dream of, eh, little one?’
‘How can you tell?’ Edie asked.
‘Hmm?’
‘How can you tell which ones ought to be tups?’
‘All in the undercarriage,’ he muttered.
She flushed. ‘Oh.’
Sam glanced up, his mouth curving. ‘We’ll save the lessons on breeding for another day, eh?’
Edie turned her overheated face away, suddenly very aware of Sam’s thigh against hers. ‘Um, yes.’
They moved on to the next animal, and this time Sam kept the lamb’s head steady while Edie administered the milk. She couldn’t help flashing him a look of delight when the lamb reared up to take the teat.
‘Well, lass, perhaps we’ll make a sheep farmer of you yet,’ Sam said when they were done with the feeding some time later, clapping her on the shoulder.
Edie glowed with pride.
‘What should I do now?’ She felt like she was really getting into her stride and was eager for the next task.
‘Heyup, Sadie!’ Sam patted his leg, and the portly sheepdog trotted to his heel. ‘We’ll go back to the farmhouse. Did you bring your dinner?’
‘Yes.’ The jam sandwiches and slice of fruitcake that Tilly had put in a tin for her were in the basket of her bike.
‘Marco will have some soup ready too. I want you with me in lower field after dinner. Gimmers in there are due any day. You might get to see a few births this afternoon.’
‘You mean you want me to help with the actual lambing?’ Edie said.
‘Yes, why?’
‘I thought … won’t I be working with Vinnie and Barbara?’
‘Not frightened, are you?’
‘No, but … they didn’t really teach us a lot about birthing animals during the training.’
‘Then you’d better learn right quick, hadn’t you? Given that’s what you’re here for.’
‘I’d rather learn with the girls.’
He frowned. ‘It wasn’t a request, London. It’s not me you’re afraid of, is it?’
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