‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘That was a very timely intervention.’
‘Glad to be of service,’ Shelby says as I stand in front of him a bit frazzled.
‘You were almost like a real-life farmer then.’
He laughs. ‘Don’t tell anyone, it would ruin my image. You’re OK?’
‘Fine.’ Frankly, I’ve had enough of marauding animals. I’m battered, probably bruised, breathless and have been trampled by the hooves of a dozen sheep. Even though I’m reluctant to let go of his fingers, I have to in order to brush myself down. I’m covered in mud, straw and feed. Even more so than usual. ‘Anthony’s a nightmare.’ I nod towards my most difficult sheep. ‘He’s more bother than the rest of them put together.’
‘Shall I go and see if I can bring him back?’
‘No, let him run off steam for a while. He’s not going to get into too much trouble.’
‘Famous last words,’ Shelby notes.
‘True enough. Alan should be here soon and we’ll rein him in again then. Alan’s more used to handling him and when Anthony’s being moody he’s best left to his own devices.’
Then there’s an awkward pause which I try to fill by picking bits of straw from my person.
‘It’s good to see you again,’ Shelby says, eventually.
‘You too,’ I agree.
‘It all ended a bit badly last time.’ Though he’s all smiles, so it doesn’t seem like he’s a man who’s holding a grudge.
‘I can only apologise about the alpacas when they came to Flinton’s Farm.’
‘You seem to have a lot of badly behaved animals,’ he observes.
‘I do. Was Scarlett very furious?’
He hesitates for a moment before saying, ‘Yes.’
Then both of us laugh.
‘I did feel terrible, if that’s any consolation.’
‘I’m not sure it is,’ he says. ‘But it was quite amusing. I’m sure she’ll survive. It will make a great anecdote for the next Graham Norton Show that she does.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘I’m sorry that I’ve not been around,’ he says. ‘My life is not my own.’
‘It’s good to be busy,’ I answer somewhat lamely. I’ve got so used to Lucas being dropped off and collected by a driver that I assumed Shelby wouldn’t be doing it again.
Before he can say anything else, Lucas comes back to join us. ‘They’re all safely in the pen now, little sods. It looks as if part of the fence had fallen over or had been pushed.’
Pushed, if I know Anthony. The devil. Perhaps the alpacas have been giving him lessons.
‘Are you OK?’ Lucas frowns at me. ‘You look a bit shaky.’
‘Just a bit winded, I think.’
‘Do you want me to feed them properly now?’
‘Yes, please,’ I say, stretching my back. ‘I think I need to sit down for a breather for five minutes.’
‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’ Shelby says.
I would normally insist that I’m fine and can manage by myself, but this time I feel a shift inside me and actually feel that I want to be looked after for once in my life. ‘That would be very nice. Thank you.’
So Lucas heads off to the feed shed, purpose in his stride. I smile to myself. Such a change from the sullen, loping boy who first came here. Shelby takes my arm and I lean on him, letting him help me limp towards the tea room. Perhaps it’s not just Lucas who’s changing.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I flop into the sofa, happy to be sitting down and without a sheep on my head, even though this well-loved couch is on the saggy side of soft.
‘I brought Lucas this morning because I wanted to have a chat to you,’ Shelby says as he busies himself making tea. He brings me over a mug with two chocolate biscuits which I take gratefully. ‘I may have mentioned that we have a charity event every year at Homewood.’
I seem to remember him inviting Christian Lee to go along to it. ‘Yes.’
‘It’s a great day. We have musicians, fabulous food, all kinds of entertainment. The great and good of Showbiz attend. How do you fancy it? You could all come too, students and animals, everyone. It would be a great showcase.’
I nearly splutter out my tea. ‘You’ve already been subjected to my disorderly animals. And more than once. Why would you want to do that again? What if they decide to run amok amid your fancy friends?’ I tell you, I’ll be scarred by the alpaca snot moment for the rest of my days. ‘And we know what happens when you add alpacas into the mix.’
He wavers slightly. ‘Maybe bring a few animals rather than enough to fill the ark. Leave the boisterous ones at home. Especially Anthony.’
Poor Anthony.
‘And Johnny Rotten.’
Poor Johnny.
‘They’ll go down a storm,’ he continues, ‘and you can raise some money for the farm. It will be an excellent opportunity.’
It will be a recipe for disaster is my assessment. After the alpaca fiasco, I can’t believe that he still wants me to go to his big charity event. ‘I don’t think I could.’
Shelby spreads his arms. ‘What have you got to lose?’
I’m filled with terror just thinking about it.
‘I do it every year,’ he presses on. ‘People give very generously. If they don’t, we ply them with lots of alcohol to loosen their wallets. I’ll give you a cut of the money we raise.’
Gosh, that sounds so tempting. Our monthly deficit seems only to be growing ever larger. Yet still I hesitate. As well as the animals to contend with, there would be people there – posh ones. I might even have to talk to some of them.
I’m sure Shelby can read my mind as he says, ‘I know that it’s out of your comfort zone, but it would be good exposure.’
That’s exactly what I’m worried about. Do I want to be ‘exposed’? I don’t think Shelby realises quite how small my comfort zone is. Even stepping beyond the farm gate is traumatic.
‘I thought it would help me to get closer to Lucas again. He’d see that I want to be involved in this place, that I care. And I do.’
There’s no doubt that would be an excellent idea, but still my terror doesn’t subside. That flashing image of alpaca snot again. ‘Will Scarlett Vincent be there?’
‘Yes. But I’ll keep her far away from the alpacas. I don’t think she’ll need any persuading.’ We risk a smile at each other.
‘I’m not going to pressure you,’ he says. ‘But promise me that you’ll think about it.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ I agree.
Bev opens the door to the tea room and shouts, ‘Anthony’s running riot in the yard.’
‘I know,’ I say wearily. ‘We need to go and grab him.’
Then Bev does a little double-take when she sees Shelby and her face softens and she goes all girly. ‘Hello. Didn’t expect to see you here.’
Shelby rewards her with the full force of his smile. ‘I was just asking Molly if she’d consider bringing some of the students and animals to my annual charity fundraiser. And your good self, of course.’
She stares at me. ‘And?’
‘I said I’d think about it.’
‘We’ll do it,’ Bev says.
‘I’m not so sure,’ I venture. ‘I—’
She fixes me with a threatening stare. ‘We’ll do it, Mols!’
‘We’ll do it,’ I echo, too scared to argue with her.
Shelby Dacre gives me the grin of a man who knows that he’s won. ‘It’s a date.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘What were you thinking?’ I ask Bev, in despair. ‘Why did you agree to this?’
Two short weeks later and it’s the day of the charity fundraiser at Shelby Dacre’s house and I’m out of my mind with worry. It’s not nearly enough time to recover from the last ordeal. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Not helped by the fact that Little Dog, Big Dog and Fifty were hogging the bed. In fact, I’ve been in a state of heightened anxiety all week. If it had been any longer, th
en I might well have pulled out. The potential for this to go horribly wrong is enormous. Before I operated in ignorant bliss. Now I know.
I’m standing in the yard, stressing.
‘We need more money in,’ Bev says, flatly. ‘You’ve not shown me the account books for ages, so I know it must be bad.’
It is.
‘This is a fabulous opportunity,’ she wheedles. ‘It’s a no-brainer. Man up, Mols. Just stand there and look cute with your fancy new hairdo. I’ll do the talking. All they’ll want to do is pet the animals and have some selfies with them. What can possibly go wrong?’
We look at each other, acknowledging The Embarrassing Event, but knowing that it must never be referred to.
‘The alpacas will hate it.’
‘They hate everything. Tough tittie. They’ll have to take one for the team,’ is Bev’s opinion. ‘Their future depends on it. Let’s just give Tina Turner an outing. She’s less likely to nip anyone. Johnny and Rod can stay at home.’
I chew my fingernails. ‘The others will get very anxious without her.’
‘It’s a day,’ Bev points out in an exasperated voice. ‘They’ll cope. You’ll cope.’
Oh, God.
‘Just have some tea and get over yourself,’ she snaps.
‘You still owe me cake,’ I throw back, realising that I’ve lost the previous argument.
The only highlight of my morning is that Alan is wearing a Smiths T-shirt and I so very nearly called it right. I’d said Morrissey which, to me, is kind of the same thing.
‘I do not. Morrissey is not the same as the Smiths. The Smiths are not just Morrissey.’
Bev might be pushing against it, but in my mind, I think it means she owes me cake. She’s just smarting because she was wildly off-course with Kings of Leon.
‘Obviously, we’ll take Ringo and Buzz.’ She continues in the same vein as before, as if we hadn’t interrupted our conversation for Alan’s band T-shirt issue. ‘They look as cute as feck.’
The girls spent hours yesterday afternoon turning our little ponies into unicorns. There are rainbow-coloured chalks combed through their manes and tails. Their hooves have been painted with purple glittery paint. Bless them both, the ponies stood patiently and bore their makeover with relative good humour. I have silver unicorn horns in a plastic bag to attach to them later. I must point out that this wasn’t my idea. Bev assured me that unicorns are all the rage. I bow to her greater knowledge. They do look very cute though.
‘Everyone loves them. I’ve sent Alan up to the field to get them. What about some of the bunnies, plus Dumb and Dumber? Everyone adores a pygmy goat.’ She surveys the yard, scratching her head. ‘Should we take some of the prettier chickens too? Or have people generally seen a chicken?’
‘I think the majority of people only see chickens wrapped in plastic in Waitrose.’
‘What do you know of Waitrose?’ she snorts.
Got me on that one.
‘Let’s see how much room we have,’ I suggest, placatingly.
It’s the first time we’ve all been on tour, so all this is a new and somewhat frightening experience. We’re taking a couple of the sturdier metal barriers to make an ad-hoc enclosure – no one is going to push these bad boys over – and we’ve got a pull-up banner advertising our work. Bev has printed some leaflets that we can give out too.
‘We should be able to squeeze Fifty in too,’ Bev adds. ‘He’d melt the coldest of hearts.’
‘Good plan.’
Alan appears with the ponies and we load them into the truck first. I’m getting more reluctant to take the truck out much because, frankly, it isn’t becoming any more reliable. I’ll have to cross my fingers all the way to Shelby Dacre’s house just in case it crunches its very last gear before going to the big truck stop in the sky. A handful of our regular students and some of the parents are meeting us there. Jack and Seb are coming, Jody and Tamara too – the girls would never miss anything that involved seeing Lucas. He’s still quite the heart-throb for them although he insists that he hates every minute of it.
‘We ought to get going,’ Bev says. ‘This thing starts at two and we’ve got a lot to do when we get there.’
So we scurry about and Tina Turner goes in with the ponies with only a modicum of diva behaviour. The goats will be fine in there for the short journey too. Fifty is squeezed in as well. Little Dog can sit in the cab with me.
When we run out of space, we load up the back of Alan’s knackered old estate car with a run full of bunnies and another one with chickens. Some feed and hay go on his front seat. Shelby says they’ll have plenty of hay bales if we need to pinch a few. Everything else is stuffed in the truck with me and Bev.
‘Is that it?’
‘I think so,’ Bev says.
‘I hope we haven’t forgotten anything.’ We probably have, but I can’t bring it to mind now.
The plan is that Alan will help us to set up, but will come back and look after the rest of the animals for the day, then come and collect his payload again in the evening. The students will be briefly pressed into talking about the animals and giving out some leaflets as part of their learning curve, but I really just want them to have a nice day out.
Finally, we jump in the truck. I’m driving and Little Dog sits on Bev’s lap looking out of the window. Big Dog will pine for him all day, but I can’t keep my eye on both of them. We leave the farm and I feel jittery just doing that. I’ve exceeded my annual outing quota in the last few weeks and I’m not feeling relaxed about it. Bev is map-reading and issuing a litany of instructions even though I’m pretty sure I can remember my way to Shelby’s swanky place.
We trundle down the country lanes, gears grinding. I’d like to say happily, but I’m still strung like a bow and my palms are sweating on the steering wheel. The last time we did this kind of thing I was operating on the policy of witless optimism, now I know what might lie ahead of us and, quite frankly, I’m crapping myself. Perhaps I’ll feel better when we’re finally there.
Shelby Dacre’s gaff is only about fifteen minutes from where the farm is and the drive takes us through some of the finest English countryside that nature has to offer – the trees are budding with fresh green leaves, the hedgerows are white with blossom where once there was snow and the sun has blessed us with its presence. At least this is a beautiful day for it. We’ve had some glorious late spring weather and today is no exception.
We keep having to check that Alan is still behind us as he is the world’s slowest driver and with chickens and bunnies loaded in the back, he’s clearly taking no risks.
‘Flipping Nora, we could have walked quicker,’ Bev complains as she looks in the wing mirror once more. ‘I don’t think we’ve done over twenty miles an hour.’
Quite possibly less. ‘We can’t be far now, though?’
‘We’re here,’ Bev says and, sure enough, Homewood Manor comes into view and we turn into Shelby’s drive once again.
I look down at my worn check shirt and slightly grubby jeans. ‘I wish I’d spruced myself up a bit now.’
‘You have nothing to spruce yourself up into.’
This is also true. And I was clean when I started the day. Honestly.
Bev grimaces at me. ‘I wish I’d borrowed my mate’s posh gear again. I didn’t think of it.’
If I’m honest, I might have been tempted to raid her wardrobe too. I turn to Bev. ‘Now I’m even more terrified.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Bev says, breezily, but I can see fear in her eyes too. ‘We’ll get drunk.’
‘I’m driving.’
‘I’ll get drunk,’ Bev corrects.
‘I need you sober and doing schmoozing. I’m going to hide at the back behind Tina Turner.’
‘Coward,’ she says.
Can’t argue with that, so I crunch the truck into gear and head towards the gates. We’re stopped by a security guard and I wind down the window.
‘Hope Farm,’ I say. ‘We’re here for t
he charity day.’
He checks his list and waves us in. ‘Have a nice time, ladies.’
‘We’re in!’ Bev says with an air punch. ‘I can’t wait to get a proper look at this place.’
With my anxiety levels at an all-time high, I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I feel when I see Lucas at the front of the house waving to us.
Chapter Forty
I manoeuvre the truck into the huge gravel turning area outside the house, taking care not to knock down the fountain. That wouldn’t be a good start. I’m ultra-aware that many dangers are set to trip me up today.
Lucas rushes up to greet us. He looks quite animated and has a flush to his cheeks. If I didn’t know him better, I’d say he was quite excited.
‘I’ve made a great area for us,’ he babbles as soon as we jump down from the truck. ‘Under the shade of the trees, so the animals don’t get too hot.’
‘Sounds ideal,’ I say. ‘We can get the boys and girls down there before everyone else arrives.’
‘It’ll be mad,’ Lucas tells me. ‘It always is.’
‘I appreciate having a veteran of these things to hand. It all seems a bit overwhelming. Can you help us to unload?’
‘Yeah, sure.’ Together we go round to the back of the truck, lower the tailgate and let our charges out – who, thankfully, seem no worse for wear for their slightly cramped trip.
‘Whoa!’ Lucas’s eyes widen when he sees Ringo and Buzz. ‘What happened to these two?’
‘They’ve been unicorned. Apparently it’s A Thing. I have accessories in my bag for them.’
‘Weird,’ is Lucas’s verdict. ‘They’ll be a hit with the kids, though.’
He’s probably right.
So Lucas takes the two ponies and I grab Tina Turner and the goats. Bev follows on with Fifty and Little Dog. Alan leaves the bunnies and chickens for now and brings the fencing for our enclosure. Lucas leads us down the side of the house on a path that winds through flowering cherry trees and, if possible, that’s even more stunning than the front.
The first thing that takes my breath is the unbroken view across the vale and I’m pretty used to a good view. In the far distance, I can spy another farm, but that’s about all. There’s a terrace on the back of the house with classy-looking rattan furniture that would seat a dozen or more. Below, there’s a swimming pool and the lawn stretches out into a copse of trees in leafy bloom. To one side I can see a tennis court and the back of the stable block. Beyond that is a lake and I can make out a floating pontoon made of wood with two loungers side by side on it. A small rowing boat is tied up by the side. The end of the lake trickles over into an ornamental fountain in the garden. The whole thing is spectacular.
Happiness for Beginners Page 14
