Lucas and I are watching anxiously, hearts in our mouths.
‘Got the other one too,’ Matt says with a grunt. ‘Here we go.’ He pulls firmly and, next thing, a new lamb slithers into the world in the most ungainly way, landing in a mess of mucous in the straw. Matt clears its airways and rubs the body vigorously.
‘Oh, well done.’ Lucas and I look at each other, both relieved.
‘A perfect delivery,’ he says. ‘Even though I say it myself.’ Matt puts the lamb at Fluffy’s head and the sheep gently starts to lick its new baby. ‘We’ve got us a little girl. That’s a bonny lamb.’
‘She never would have popped it out by herself. You turned up in the nick of time.’ I’m sure I could have done it if, literally, push had come to shove, but how grateful I am for his calm and assured intervention.
‘Glad to be able to help.’ Matt scrubs his arms again and dries them on the towel.
‘What a delightful Christmas gift.’ I look at Fluffy nuzzling her newborn and feel full of pride for her. ‘This will be a nice surprise for Bev and Alan when they turn up to celebrate with us tomorrow.’
‘I can’t wait to show her to Penny, too,’ Lucas says excitedly. ‘What shall we call her?’
‘Joy?’ I suggest. ‘That’s suitably festive.’
‘Yeah,’ Lucas agrees. ‘Joy. It’s a good name.’
‘I think we can leave mum and baby to bond now while we have a celebratory cup of tea.’
‘Tea?’ Lucas says. ‘I’m all for cracking open that bottle of rum that Bev bought for you.’
I laugh. ‘That sounds like a much better idea. Will you join us?’ I say to Matt. ‘If you’ve nothing to rush away for, you can stay over if you’d like. I’m happy to make up a bed on the sofa for you so that you don’t have to drive home.’
I feel shy making the offer, but the roads must be hazardous by now and, after what’s he’s done, I’d really like him to stay around.
‘I might take you up on that. A tot or three of rum sounds like a very good plan.’
‘I’ll take the sofa,’ Lucas offers. ‘Matt can have my bedroom.’
I’m not sure that he’ll want to sleep in a teenage-created bio-hazard, but we can sort that out in good time.
Then I look round. ‘Where’s Anthony?’
Chapter Eighty-Six
In all the drama, it seems our dear anti-social sheep has taken advantage of our distraction and has slipped through the gate to make a break for it.
‘Buggeration,’ I huff. ‘He’s heading across the field at full tilt. How did he even squeeze through the hedge?’
Anthony is a fair old size and the gap in the hedge is quite small. So I thought.
‘Don’t worry,’ Matt says. ‘I’ll get him.’ He grabs his jacket before chasing off after our badly behaved sheep.
Lucas and I head to the stile where we perch and stare at the pair of them, Anthony gambolling in the snow and Matt in hot pursuit.
We both giggle.
‘He has no idea what Anthony’s like, does he?’ Lucas says.
‘I’m afraid not.’
We laugh again.
Lucas gives me a sideways glance. ‘You should definitely get with Matt,’ he says. ‘He’s cool.’
‘You’re giving me dating advice?’
‘Well, it’s clear that you need help with your choice in men,’ he replies.
‘Oh, Lucas.’
‘Trust me. I know these things. He’s a good bloke.’
‘If it’s any help, I think so too.’
‘There you go, then. My dad’s fucked off. There’s nothing to stop you.’
My mind goes to Shelby across the miles, starting out on his glamorous Hollywood lifestyle, and think that it will suit him much more. He’s a man who needs to be adored, feted, whereas I need a man who’s here for me – one who will muck in and muck out. One who will roll up his sleeves and help a baby lamb in distress with aplomb.
In my heart I say goodbye to Shelby, the man that I’ve known and loved. It’s over for us and we both know it. I’m entirely rubbish at this romantic stuff, but I think there is chemistry between me and Matt, a tentative attraction. Perhaps Lucas is right, he would be a good man for me. There’s no doubt we have so much in common.
We watch as Matt gets closer to grabbing Anthony who then performs a perfect swerve to avoid him and runs the other way.
Lucas and I laugh so much that tears run down our faces.
My dear boy turns to me and, wipes away his tears. ‘Molly,’ he looks serious for a moment. ‘This has been a good Christmas. One of the best.’
‘For me too,’ I tell him.
‘We’ll be OK,’ he says. ‘Just you and me.’
I nod, emotion tightening my throat. ‘We will.’
I look above me. The stars are out, the landscape is white with snow as far as the eye can see, the air is crisp. The animals are snug and warm in their stalls. The dogs are at my feet. My dearest boy is content with the world and so am I. It feels exactly like a Christmas night should do.
‘Don’t just stand there,’ Matt shouts over at us. ‘This sheep is a damn sight speedier than he looks.’
We turn again to the antics carrying on in the field ahead of us and frown. ‘I suppose we should go to help Matt out or he’ll be there all night.’
‘We could help,’ Lucas notes. ‘Or we could just go and pound Matt with snowballs.’
I look at Lucas and smile. ‘That sounds like a very fine idea.’
Lucas’s eyes twinkle mischievously. ‘Let’s do it!’
‘You’re on.’
So, side-by-side, we jump down from the stile and run into the field, scooping up snow to pat into snowballs as we go. Matt sees us coming and stops chasing Anthony who immediately stands still in disgust at being abandoned.
‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Matt shouts at us and bends to hastily make his own snowballs to repel our attack.
We all come together in a flurry of snow and playful shrieks. There’s snow in my hair, ears, my mouth and down the back of my coat. Matt and Lucas roll on the ground, grappling together, and rubbing snow into each other’s face. Their joyous guffaws fill the night air.
I don’t know what the coming year might bring for me, for Lucas and for all of us at Hope Farm, but I’m sure that along the way there’ll be a lot of love and even more laughter. I just need to open my heart, throw wide my arms and embrace whatever comes next.
Talented poet, Paul Eccentric, one half of the comedy performance act, The Antipoet, created these poems for Lucas in my previous novel about Hope Farm, Happiness for Beginners, and I thought it would be nice if you could enjoy them again.
For further information on his work, pop along and have a look at www.pauleccentric.co.uk.
Without You
It still goes on without you;
life still goes on for me,
it’ll never be the same, though;
not how it’s meant to be.
They tell me it gets easier
with every passing day,
but how could I accept that cancer stole my mum away?
It still goes on without you;
life still goes on for us,
but it’s a lacklustre alternative,
and ever will be thus,
without you here to guide me;
I won’t know what to do,
without you here beside me:
on hand to help me through.
Life still goes on without you;
it still goes on for those,
who kill and maim and terrorise,
because that’s just how it goes!
Life goes on without you,
and I’ll do the best I can;
I just wish you could have stayed around ’til I was an old man.
Secrets ‘n’ Lies
Who are you?
C’mon an’ show me who ya are!
Is anything f’real,
Mr TV star?
Action!
Time t’pour out
y’heart,
but how’m I t’know
what’s y’life and what’s ya art?
Cards on the table:
time t’bare your soul,
but when you lie for a living,
ain’t life just another role?
How will I know
if what y’telling me is true?
An’ if nothing is f ’real,
then, does it matter what I do?
Who are you?
I shouldn’t really have t’arx,
but I really need to know
if there’s a man behind the mask.
Action!
No action;
words are all you got,
scripted ’n’ lifted from a cheap soap plot.
Well-versed, rehearsed;
in the character immersed,
two faces; two families,
but which a’them comes first?
They all think they know ya;
they see you as their friends,
but none a’them will be there when the story ends,
so –
Who are you?
That’s what I need t’know;
when they turn off the camras
and they wrap up the show.
Action!
Interaction:
that’s what I’m looking for,
I shouldn’t have to queue at the stage door.
We all got a secret that we’re burnin’ t’yell,
we’re defined by the lies that we’re willin’ t’tell.
Secrets ’n’ lies;
I’s no big deal;
all I’m arxin’s that y’keep it
a little bit real.
All I’m arxin’s that y’keep it
a little bit real.
All I’m arxin’s that y’arx y’self:
how I might feel . . .
Save the Farm
It’s nothing short of criminal:
It’s a travesty; a scam.
We’re another victim of that HS2 to Birmingham.
Because, despite the work we’ve done here,
For those with special needs,
The rich man’s railway still comes first,
Yes, progress supersedes!
And that leaves us with a problem,
As our work here’s far from done,
Our appeal needs to go viral
Reach the hearts of everyone.
All we need is twenty acres,
At a rent that’s not too steep;
A place to keep our goats and pigs
And Tony, the angry sheep.
Save The Farm! Save The Farm!
With the alpacas we’ll stand tall!
Save The Farm! Save The Farm!
Hear us all at Hope Farm call!
Save The Farm! Save The Farm!
Stand up for what you know is right,
So the work we do can con-tin-ue
Come join us in this fight.
’Cos the work we do here’s vital,
It’s a lifeline we provide;
For those for whom conventional education
Hasn’t been an easy ride.
You see alpacas aren’t judgemental,
And goats don’t take the mick,
And pigs and sheep don’t badger you
For being dyslexic.
They help to normalise anxieties,
Build the confidence to achieve;
They encourage us kids to integrate
And in ourselves believe.
They’ve been called iconoclastic;
Revolutionary; unique,
We’ve got all we need to make this work,
It’s just the ground space that we seek.
Save The Farm! Save The Farm!
With the alpacas we’ll stand tall
Save The Farm! Save The Farm!
Hear us all at Hope Farm call!
Save The Farm! Save The Farm!
Stand up for what you know is right,
So the work we do can con-tin-ue
Come join us in this fight.
There are people who depend on us;
We won’t go down without a fight,
But we’re an independent entity
And our finances are tight.
There’s animal feed and vet bills,
Day-to-days, and at some stage,
Molly would like to draw herself at least a living wage.
So if you’re rich and fancy helping us,
Or you’ve got some land to spare,
Or if you know anyone else who has,
Who could be convinced to care,
Then get in touch; we’d love to hear, or share my video,
On all your social media and with everyone you know!
Save The Farm! Save The Farm!
With the alpacas we’ll stand tall
Save The Farm! Save The Farm!
Hear us all at Hope Farm call!
Save The Farm! Save The Farm!
Stand up for what you know is right,
So the work we do can con-tin-ue
Come join us in this fight.
Acknowledgements
To Donna and Paul Eccentric for all the help with this book and for perfect poems, friendship, tortoise traumas and really excellent afternoon tea.
@PaulEccentric
www.PaulEccentric.co.uk
To all the team – human and otherwise – at Animal Antiks for continued help with my research.
@animal_antiks
www.animalantiks.co.uk
And to Caenhill Countryside Centre for extra inspiration. We watch their morning ‘rush hour’ on Twitter to start every day with a smile. Do check them out.
@caenhillcc
www.facebook.com/CaenhillCC
The poet who Lucas is so keen on is Harry Baker – very clever and entertaining – and I admire him just as much. His website is simply HarryBaker.co (that’s not a mistake!) and is worth a look. You can also see some of his fabulous performances on YouTube.
@harrybakerpoet
www.facebook.com/harrybakerpoetry
Christmas for Beginners: Fall in love with the ultimate festive read from the Sunday Times bestseller Page 33
