Happiness for Beginners

by Carole Matthews

  I wonder if he’s told him about his impending move to LA or if this is going to be the moment he breaks the news to Lucas. My chest tightens at the thought of it.

  ‘Don’t just stand there watching me,’ Lucas says. ‘Get a brush and help. I’ve got stuff to do.’

  ‘Like what?’ Though I grab a brush as instructed and work on the other side of the pony to Lucas.

  ‘Bev asked would I do a poetry class for the kids this afternoon.’ He sounds shy when he tells me.

  ‘She did?’

  ‘Yeah. You don’t mind?’

  ‘I think it’s a great idea. Have you got something prepared?’

  ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’

  I take that as Lucas being more organised than I give him credit for. I only hope he’s right. This lot can be notoriously difficult to keep focused on a task. ‘Are you looking forward to it, then?’

  He stops brushing and chews at his lip. ‘I’m a bit nervous,’ he confesses.

  ‘That’s only natural. You’ll ace it though. They adore you.’

  Lucas snorts with disdain.

  ‘Allow yourself to be the hero, for once,’ I tell him.

  He looks over at me, his face anxious as he asks, ‘What will happen if you don’t find another place like this?’

  Now I’m the one to pause mid-stroke. ‘I honestly don’t know, Lucas.’

  ‘You’ll find something,’ he says with the assurance of the young. ‘I know you will.’

  And I can’t bring myself to tell him that his father came up with the ideal solution, but that I totally and utterly blew it.

  Chapter Eighty-One

  After we’ve finished our grooming session, Lucas, Little Dog and I walk Buzz back to his field. The bees meander from flower to flower, drunk with pollen from campion and clover, their contented buzzing the only sound around. The clouds are as fluffy as marshmallows in a sky that’s a colour more appropriate to the Mediterranean. I could cry with the sheer beauty of it all. I can’t even voice how I feel or I’d definitely be blubbing all over again. So I busy myself with settling Buzz, make a fuss of Ringo and secure the gate behind us.

  Then we head back to the yard and have lunch. I notice that Lucas is unusually quiet or perhaps the other students are unusually noisy. It’s a busy day today with our full complement of ten students on the farm. Some of them are our most challenging. Lucas is going to have his hands full and I get a flutter of nerves for him. Tamara and Jody are here, so I’m sure his usual fan base will be supportive. But we have a couple of our younger lads with ADHD in the mix today and I hope that Alan has tired Josh and Kenny out a bit this morning with some physical tasks.

  When we’ve cleared away after lunch, I help Lucas to assemble the students in the open-sided part of the barn they use for summer lessons – thankfully, this was unaffected by the fire. They’ve all chosen to come along to the poetry session which is fantastic. We arrange the chairs so that they’re shaded from the sun and with the usual degree of squabbling, they eventually take their seats. One thing I’ve learned from experience is that there’s no point in having a rigid timetable here. Fluidity is our watchword.

  Perching at the back on a hay bale, I watch as Bev introduces Lucas and he begins to talk. Little Dog jumps up next to me and I fuss his ears. Fifty wanders in and after a few heckling bleats, settles at my feet. Unfortunately, I can’t stay here for long as I have to hit the phones again this afternoon – much as it pains me – but I’m intrigued to see how Lucas will manage his first attempt at a workshop. He sounds nervous as he hands out pieces of paper and tries to calm the kids down enough to listen to his instructions. As a lot of our students have attention issues, even if they’re undiagnosed, lessons are often more of a study in crowd control rather than quality learning, but Lucas is persistent and I feel myself smiling at his efforts.

  At the front, Lucas raises his voice and shouts out, ‘Hey, guys! Listen up! Today, we’re going to try to write a poem.’

  Good luck with that, I think.

  ‘What’s your favourite word?’ he says above their chatter. ‘Say it out loud to me. Mine is balloon. Or maybe it’s drizzle or …’

  ‘Fart,’ Seb in the front row says to much sniggering. Quickly followed by a chorus of ‘bum’, ‘poo’ and ‘wee’.

  I see a theme developing.

  ‘Let’s think of bigger words,’ Lucas says, patiently. ‘Thunder. Blossom. Garden.’

  Asha, tentatively, puts his hand up. ‘Sunshine.’

  ‘That’s a great word. Anyone else?’

  Nicely, he’s steered them away and I feel quite proud of him for not getting thrown.

  ‘Jelly,’ Jack adds, not to be outdone.

  ‘Cool.’ Lucas nods his approval and Jack, one of Lucas’s biggest fans, preens. ‘Write down a few of your favourite words and then pick one. Think of that word as a person. If you’ve written, say, Thunder, what would Thunder look like? Is it a boy or girl? What would his or her eyes be like? They might be dark and stormy. They might be grey and cloudy. What would they sound like? Would Thunder be loud and frightening? Or would it be exciting? If it was Blossom, would they be soft and pink? Would their voice sound as if it’s floating on the air?’

  The kids have quietened down a bit now and there’s much scribbling going on. I’m impressed. Lucas seems to have a natural rapport with kids of this age. For his debut, he’s doing a great job. Some of the supply teachers we have here can’t get them to sit down for five minutes.

  ‘What do you think?’ I whisper into Little Dog’s ear. ‘He’s pretty good, isn’t he?’ Little Dog wags his tail in reply.

  ‘What would they be doing?’ Lucas asks. ‘Thunder might be banging at your windows. Blossom might be blowing down your street like a soft wind. Write down what you think.’

  Sadly, I have to leave before I get to find out how the kids have managed with their first poetry lesson, but they certainly seem to be rapt. I jump down from the hay bale and give Lucas the thumbs up. I’m sure he flushes slightly. I’m still grinning as I walk across the yard towards my caravan and, believe me, I find precious little to smile about these days.

  As I round the corner, I see Shelby’s car parked in the yard and he’s talking to Alan. My heart starts to pound in my chest and my mouth goes suddenly dry. Today, Alan is sporting Fleetwood Mac on his chest on a T-shirt that’s at least two sizes too small. It’s stretched across his chest and looks as if it’s cutting off the blood supply under his arms. Bev has been too terrified to guess his T-shirt for the last few days in case he asks her out on a date again.

  Shelby, it has to be said, is wearing something entirely more fetching. He has on a plain grey T-shirt and washed-out jeans – intentionally so, and not just faded with age as mine are. I’m still filthy dirty from washing down Buzz with Lucas and have never been more aware of how scruffy I am.

  ‘Visitor,’ Alan says and seizes the opportunity to march off in the other direction as Shelby saunters towards me.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse my butler,’ I quip. ‘He’s a temp.’

  ‘He seems like a good man to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘He is. Don’t know what I’d do without him.’

  Shelby stares at me and his piercing blue eyes do very strange things to my hormones. ‘Things ended badly between us last time.’

  ‘They did.’ Can’t disagree with that either.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘You were, of course, right. Which is all the more reason I was angry.’

  ‘It’s really none of my business. I was out of order.’

  ‘You could have broken it to me more gently,’ Shelby suggests and that makes us both laugh a little.

  ‘Am I forgiven?’ I ask.

  ‘You are. Am I? I bring a peace offering.’ He holds up a large, brown envelope. ‘The contract for the land.’

  ‘Are you sure? I thought I’d blown it.’

  ‘It’s yours. If you still want it.’

  My heart, which had
returned to its normal level of beating, picks up the pace again. I want it more than anything. Of course I do. ‘You’d better come to the caravan.’

  So he follows me into the van and I push some papers off the sofa so that he can sit down. Little Dog tries to fit into the one clear space with him.

  ‘Tea?’

  ‘I can’t stay long,’ he says. ‘I have an event in London tonight.’

  ‘What about Lucas?’

  He frowns. ‘Are you intent on making me feel guilty again?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. I could make him some dinner here and the driver could pick him up later. If he wants to stay.’

  ‘I’ll text him and see what he wants to do.’

  ‘No need to be so modern,’ I tease. ‘We can walk up to the barn. He’s running his first poetry workshop for the rest of the kids today.’

  Shelby looks suitably surprised. ‘He is?’

  ‘Yes. And he was making a very good job of it when I left him.’

  Shelby shakes his head. ‘I still feel that I hardly know him these days.’

  ‘He’s written a poem about saving the farm. It’s on YouTube.’ I flick to the relevant video on my phone and hand it to Shelby. ‘He’s great.’

  He sits quietly while he watches his son on the screen. ‘That’s fantastic,’ Shelby says as he clicks off his screen. ‘If only he’d share this with me.’

  ‘I’m sure he will. Just give it time.’

  He holds up the brown envelope again. ‘Well? Shall we do this?’

  I let out a wavering breath. ‘I’d love to. It’s the answer to all of my prayers. But how can I sign it until I know that I have some money in place? My funds are sorely depleted.’ Molly-speak for I don’t have any money at all.

  ‘I’ll cover your costs for the first three months, by which time we’ll have the money from the concert.’

  ‘That’s unbelievably kind of you, but our monthly bills aren’t to be sneezed at,’ I warn him. ‘Keeping this lot eats through a small fortune.’

  ‘I can only imagine. We can go through the figures when you’re ready. I’ve already spoken to some of the people I know who I can call favours in from and they’re all keen to do a concert for the farm. I’ve pencilled in a tentative date.’ He checks his phone and reels it off.

  ‘That’s only a couple of weeks ahead.’

  ‘I thought we should strike while the iron’s hot. Besides, you’ve said yourself, you’re running out of time and money.’

  True fact.

  ‘I hope that the concert will raise enough to keep you going for the following six months, maybe even longer.’ He smiles at me. ‘My friends can be quite generous when pressed.’

  I can only hope that he’s right. ‘I’m excited and terrified.’

  ‘That’s understandable. It’s a big step. If you want to rescue the farm you don’t really have any choice. But if it helps, I can assure you that my partners and I will try to be accommodating landlords.’

  Yet Shelby will be an absentee one if he jets off to LA without a backward glance and I wonder how that will work. Are his other partners going to be as easy-going?

  ‘I want to do this,’ Shelby says, earnestly. ‘Please let me. Since Susie died I’ve been all over the papers, known only for dating unsuitable models and actresses half my age. That’s not fair to her memory. It’s not fair to Lucas. I realise that now. I’d like to be known for something else. Perhaps this is the start of a new age of altruism for me.’

  I hope he’s being sincere and that I can trust Shelby Dacre to look after us. I’m putting all of my faith in him. ‘Hand over the paperwork,’ I say, heart in my mouth. ‘Let’s do it.’

  He pulls the papers out of the envelope and lays them out on the table for me. I find a biro in a drawer and take a couple of deep breaths.

  ‘Sign here, here and here.’ He points to the relevant pages, already marked with a red cross.

  My hand shakes as I put my name to the legal document, but I think this is a good thing. I’m sure it is.

  When I’ve finished, I stand up and blow out a breath. ‘Done.’

  Despite being scared witless by the commitment I’ve taken on, a wave of relief washes over me. My search is over. I have my solution and, not only that, it’s a great one. I’m trembling with emotion. Shelby Dacre has come in on his white charger and has saved us.

  Shelby gathers the papers and stands up too. ‘Welcome to Hope Farm, mark two. I feel as if I should have brought champagne.’

  ‘That would be very welcome right now.’ For me, at least, it certainly feels like a momentous occasion deserving of sparkly drinks. Hope Farm is going to continue. My beloved animals will have a home. My dear, dear students will still have a safe place in which to continue their studies and to grow in confidence. ‘I couldn’t be more grateful.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ He holds out his hand and we shake on it. His fingers are strong and warm in mine, we hold on for too long. Then he moves towards me, his lips brush mine and his arms enfold me.

  We kiss softly, searchingly, but I pull away and say, ‘This is no way for a landlord and tenant to behave. We agreed.’

  ‘So we did.’ But I guess that we throw caution to the wind and we kiss more insistently this time, leaving us both breathless.

  ‘Oh, Molly,’ he says as we part, his fingers stroking my hair. ‘What am I going to do?’

  I have no idea what to say to that. ‘Oh, Molly,’ what exactly? He pulls me close again and we hold on tightly to each other. I feel so at home in his arms and I know that I’ve never wanted anyone or anything as much in my life. But I’ve not a clue what’s going on inside Shelby’s head and that frightens me more than you can possibly know.

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  We leave the caravan, so much unspoken, and walk across to the barn. ‘Can I announce this to everyone?’ I ask.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Does Lucas know already?’

  ‘I haven’t had time to speak to him yet,’ Shelby tells me and I wonder how they can live in the same home, if not in the same part of it, and yet communicate so little.

  I hope that we can catch the end of Lucas’s lesson so that Shelby can see what his son is doing here and how he’s progressing. I want him to know how popular Lucas is with the kids here, even though they are all younger than him. The only thing that I worry about is that he has no one here of his own age to interact with. Well, it’s not the only thing that I worry about, but you know what I mean. It depends on our intake who is here at any one time and I hope that we’ll have some more students of Lucas’s age before too long. Then I realise, if he goes off to boarding school, it won’t be an issue at all.

  With less than perfect timing, we arrive just as Lucas wraps up his session by shouting, ‘That’s it! Well done, everyone. You’ve knocked out some great rhymes there.’

  He has a big grin on his face and only falters slightly when he sees me arrive with his father. A shadow crosses his face, but I step up to the front and ask, ‘Did you enjoy Lucas’s poetry session?’

  ‘Yes!’ is the unanimous verdict. Which is good to hear. It will have done wonders for his confidence.

  ‘Shall we ask him to do it again?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Let’s give Lucas a big clap.’ The students oblige by clapping and cheering.

  Lucas takes a bow, smiling.

  Shelby claps too. ‘Well done, son.’

  Lucas spins towards him and his demeanour changes as soon as he speaks to his father. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Molly has some news,’ Shelby says.

  Lucas frowns. ‘How does it involve you?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ Despite his son’s cool reception, Shelby still looks more than a little smug.

  I touch Lucas’s arm. ‘It’s all fine. No need to worry.’ I know that he thinks no good can come of anything that his father’s involved with. I hope, this time, he’s proved wrong. ‘Can you run and get Bev and Alan for me, ple
ase?’

  Lucas shrugs and dashes off.

  As he leaves, Shelby reaches out and squeezes my fingers in his. I nod to him to say that I’m ready. Then I walk to the front of the barn, Little Dog following every step as usual, and clap my hands to get the kids’ attention. ‘Stay seated just for a moment! I’ve got something nice to tell you.’

  Lucas, Bev and Alan come back and stand next to Shelby.

  I try to keep the tremor of excitement from my voice when I say, ‘Very soon we have to move from Hope Farm because of the new trainline that’s coming. Well, I’ve been struggling to find us all a new home – you, me, all of the animals.’ I make a mental note to send out emails to their parents and carers later tonight, if I can, so that everyone is kept informed. I don’t want anyone panicking. ‘It’s been very difficult and I did worry that we’d never find anywhere just as special.’ As you’re more than aware, this doesn’t begin to explain all that I’ve been through or how close we have come to closing for good. ‘So I’m very pleased to tell you that we have a new home. It’s a lovely setting and not very far from here, so we won’t have to change our routines at all. Everything will be just the same, if not better. We’re very lucky that we’ll even have nicer classrooms and all the animals can come with us.’ I glance shyly at Shelby. ‘Mr Dacre here will be our new landlord. He’s made it all possible so I think that we should give him a big round of applause to show him how grateful we all are.’

  All the children applaud and Lucas looks at his father in amazement. Shelby is beaming back at me.

  ‘I think this, at least, deserves a conga!’ So I gather the kids into a line and get at the head of it. Singing at the top of my voice, I lead a conga round the barn. Bev joins in as we pass and ushers Shelby Dacre in front of her. She’s probably going to love holding onto his waist for the next few minutes. With very little cajoling, Alan grabs hold of Bev, and he sings along at the top of his voice despite me not really having him down as a conga kinda guy. Even Lucas eventually responds to my beckoning and tags on at the back. When we’re all breathless and congaed out, we stand there huffing and puffing.