Country Loving

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘What makes you say that, sis?’

  ‘You’re beginning to move like one.’

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Not!’ Ray grins as he reaches out to ruffle my hair with a grooming brush. I duck away. ‘The trouble is you have too much imagination.’ He grows serious. ‘I think you’ve been letting it run away with you with this project.’

  ‘I have to do something,’ I say.

  ‘Forget about keeping animals, Stevie – they cost a fortune in care and maintenance. I should know.’ He looks towards the ponies. ‘You should develop the farm buildings – extend the cottage and the house, transform the cowshed and nursery, and sell off a couple of acres with each dwelling. You could get back to London and our father could afford a suite in a nursing home.’

  ‘Ray, how could you?’ I say, pained by his insensitivity. ‘Dad would hate it. It would probably kill him.’

  ‘What’s come over you?’ Ray asks. ‘I didn’t think you’d be all that bothered about what happened to him. He hasn’t exactly treated you well in the past.’

  ‘If you saw him you’d understand. He’s half the man he was.’

  ‘Is he sorry? Has he ever apologised to you?’ Ray stares at me through narrowed eyes. ‘… I thought not.’

  ‘Someone has to look after him,’ I say stubbornly. ‘I’m doing it because it’s what Mum would have expected. And he is my father …’

  ‘He is father to me in the biological sense only.’ Ray’s tone is bitter like orange peel. ‘I’ve disowned him pretty much, as he’s disowned me and my family. I could take it if it weren’t for Christiane, but he refuses to even acknowledge his own granddaughter, the old bastard.’ Ray pauses for a moment before his lips curve into a half-smile. ‘Mary and Cecil would say that we’re all alike, you, me and him.’

  ‘I know. Ray, I’m going to go ahead with the petting farm, whatever your opinion, but it would be wonderful if I knew I could count on your support.’ I feel as though he owes me something for being given the farm while I was rejected, but it seems he can’t even bring himself to do that.

  ‘I wish you nothing but the best, Stevie, but it’ll never work. You’re on a hiding to nothing.’

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ I say. Ray picks up on my sarcasm.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not going to pretend. As I said on the phone, I’ll remain a sleeping partner, keeping my share of the farm. However, I shan’t be investing in your project. Shall we go and watch the girls?’ he says, abruptly changing the subject, but making it clear I’m on my own when it comes to taking the plans for Nettlebed Farm forward.

  I’ll prove it to him though. I’ll show all the cynics and doubters that my idea is a winner, I think as I watch the class with Ray, who’s delighted when his daughters take first and second place. It seems effortless. The girls appear to do nothing but hang on in the saddle as their proud steeds perform figures of eight and flying changes in front of the judge. As soon as the class is over, my brother heads for the beer tent.

  ‘Gabrielle will be wanting champagne,’ Ray says. ‘Would you like to join us?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m going to have a look around.’ I’m also hoping I’ll run into Leo.

  ‘I’m sorry for not being on your side when it comes to your plans, Stevie,’ my brother repeats. ‘It’s nothing personal. It’s just business.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, biting my lip. It feels personal …

  ‘It’s been good to catch up with my big sister. We must spend some more time together soon.’

  ‘We must,’ I agree, but I’m not sure either of us means it.

  ‘Call me,’ he says, before he disappears inside the tent.

  I buy candyfloss and doughnuts, and take a stroll through the WI marquee where the atmosphere, laden with the scent of rose petals and lavender, is tense as the ladies – and a couple of gentlemen, I notice – await the results of the Victoria sponge competition. Jennie is judging, tasting a piece of one of the cakes. Giving her a quick smile, I duck out again. I check out the fancy hens, the sheepshearing and farriery before returning to the main arena to wait for the Pony Club mounted games to begin. It’s always good for a laugh.

  ‘Hi, Stevie.’

  I turn to find Leo at my side, pinching my bum. Grinning, I lean up and kiss him on the lips.

  ‘I came to find you last night, but you were asleep,’ I say.

  ‘You should have woken me,’ he says with a wicked twinkle in his eye. ‘We could have had some fun.’

  ‘It was tempting, but you looked so peaceful …’ I look him up and down. He looks cool in a shirt and tie. I offer him a doughnut.

  ‘Thanks,’ he says, taking one. ‘I saw you in the arena with the heifer.’

  ‘You didn’t see her gallop off, did you? I was so embarrassed.’

  ‘I missed that. I saw you having your photo taken with Milly. Congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you. Have you been busy?’

  ‘I’ve dealt with an overheated guinea pig, a fancy chicken with a limp and a pony that got kicked on the lorry.’

  ‘How did you treat the guinea pig?’ I ask.

  ‘With wet flannels and a prescription for extra vitamin C. He didn’t half squeak, which I thought was a good sign. I don’t normally see guinea pigs.’ Leo pauses to lick sugar from the corner of his mouth. ‘I think he overheated because he was left in his carrier in the sun while waiting for the Pet Show to start. He had to pull out, which is a shame because he had a good chance – he had a hairstyle a lot like mine.’ Leo grins. ‘I’m blagging it. What do I know about showing small furry animals?’

  ‘What happened to the pony?’

  ‘It’s one of your neighbour’s ponies, Bracken.’

  ‘Poor Sophie won’t be able to ride in the mounted games.’

  ‘She won’t because Bracken’s still sedated. I had to stitch her up. It’ll be a while before she can be ridden again.’ Leo pauses, cocking his head to one side. ‘Did I hear my name?’

  ‘I don’t know. Did you?’ I listen for the tannoy announcement.

  ‘Yes, that’s me, Vet on Call,’ Leo says, tapping the badge pinned to his tie. ‘Can we catch up later, darling?’ He fans his fingers across the small of my back and pulls me close for a kiss.

  ‘How about tonight?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Justin, Alex’s assistant, is away for a few days, so it’s just me and Alex juggling the on-call. I’m off tomorrow. I could take you out for lunch and then I’ll help you with the afternoon milking to give Cecil a break.’

  ‘Help or hinder?’ I say with a sigh of happiness as he releases me to go and attend to a sheep at the shearing display that has met with the equivalent of either a razor cut or shaving rash.

  ‘A bit of both, I hope.’ He chuckles as he walks away, and I wonder how long the milking will take with Leo involved when we can hardly keep our hands off each other.

  It’s late when we return to Nettlebed Farm, and Cecil and I milk the cows; they seem relieved we haven’t forgotten them after all. Afterwards, we join my father and Mary for a meal of ham, egg and chips.

  ‘I hope she had a special feed tonight,’ says Dad, referring to Milly – not me, of course.

  ‘She’s had the same as the others.’ I smile. ‘I don’t want her getting ideas above her station.’

  ‘We’ll leave you to it,’ Cecil says when we’ve finished eating.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ I say quickly. ‘Have another glass of cider.’

  ‘Oh no, I’m getting a little tipsy,’ says Mary. ‘You and your dad have things to talk about.’

  ‘And I fancy getting back to do a bit of whittling,’ says Cecil. ‘Come on, my lover.’ He stands up and holds his arm out to his wife and they stroll out together, Cecil shuffling his feet and Mary walking tall, leaving me and my father looking at each other.

  ‘Did you enjoy the day?’ I ask him, noticing he’s wearing Milly’s sash and rosettes.

  ‘I had a good old
chinwag,’ he says. ‘Everyone’s talking about the petting farm as if it’s going to be some giant Disneyland. That damn woman—’

  ‘Fifi, you mean,’ I cut in.

  ‘Yes, that one. She wants to start a petition against it.’ Dad snorts. ‘They’re all a bunch of nimbys.’

  ‘I think we should try to get them on side with some cake and sherry,’ I say, picking some dry mud from my chin as an idea occurs to me.

  ‘I’m not feeding the town on cake, or letting them drink themselves silly on my account.’

  ‘We’ll hold a public meeting here at the farm to show we’re listening to everyone’s concerns and have nothing to hide.’

  ‘As a smokescreen,’ Dad says, frowning. ‘What an excellent plan.’

  ‘There’s nothing devious about it. I want us to be completely transparent.’ Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by a wave of tiredness. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  ‘Either you can’t stand the pace of living in the country, or you’re planning on getting some extra beauty sleep.’

  ‘Neither, actually. I’ve had a long day.’

  ‘Oh? I thought it might have something to do with you staying up late most nights with Leo. There’s a lot of gossip about you and your boyfriend.’

  ‘And? Dad, you really shouldn’t listen to gossip.’

  ‘You will be careful, won’t you?’

  I frown. I don’t need a lecture on contraception from my father, and besides, Leo and I haven’t slept together yet.

  ‘Alex Fox-Gifford is keeping him on until the end of the summer,’ my father goes on. ‘After that, who knows where he’ll be off to? Some say he’s planning on travelling to the other side of the world.’

  ‘I know that,’ I say, relieved to discover he isn’t talking about the birds and the bees.

  ‘It’s just long enough for you to fall head over heels in love with him – which you probably have already.’ My father sighs deeply. ‘I’m afraid he’ll break your heart.’

  ‘Thanks for your concern,’ I say, touched that he’s worried about me. I’m afraid Leo will break my heart too, which is why I’ve been holding back. I desperately want him to make love to me – I can hardly think about anything else – but I know that if I give myself to him completely, I’ll be utterly committed to him and the idea of him leaving would be unbearable.

  June drifts into July and Leo and I get to know each other better. We can chat about anything and everything – apart from his nephew and his plans. Although I give him plenty of opportunity to talk about Jonas if he wants to, it’s clear it’s an area of his life that he keeps locked away in his heart, and when it comes to Leo moving away, I can’t bring myself to discuss it with him for fear it will be bad news for our relationship, or that he’ll think I’m trying to put pressure on him to stay. For the moment, I want to enjoy being together, to be happy, not filled with angst about the future.

  As well as spending time with Leo, I organise the public meeting, sending out invitations to everyone I can think of and advertising it in the newsagent’s window. I order sherry from Mr Lacey of Lacey’s Fine Wines and cupcakes from Jennie, having checked I won’t be offending Mary by not asking her to make her special-occasion fruit cake.

  I obtain a copy of the plans for the Shed, the new building, from the architect, and put them up on a board in the living room, along with details of the planning application, the animals we’re intending to have and the accommodation James is building for them in anticipation. I pay Adam to tidy the farmyard and cut the nettles, and rent a man with a hedge-cutter too, and I have some hardcore put down in the gateways in case it rains before the tour I’ve arranged for our guests.

  On the night before the meeting, I check on the calves, including Pearl; she is flourishing and growing into a real beauty, a potential Supreme Champion for next year’s show. I look again at the notes I’ve prepared; I know if anyone can speak about this project – my baby – with passion, it’s me. I drop by at the caravan to ask Leo’s opinion – and have a cuddle and a smooch if I’m lucky, I smile to myself. I knock on the door, noticing as I wait for him to answer that the yellow rose that rambles up the wall of the cowshed is in full bloom.

  ‘Hi,’ I say when Leo appears, his hair ruffled and his eyes bleary with sleep. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve disturbed you. I should have let sleeping vets lie.’

  ‘Oh no, come in.’ He yawns. ‘I wanted to come along to the meeting tomorrow to provide moral support, but I can’t make it – Alex has got me out TB testing all day. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You will be,’ I say, walking up the steps to receive a kiss. ‘You’re going to miss out on the free cake.’

  ‘Save me some,’ he chuckles.

  ‘That could be difficult – there are lots of people coming.’ I take a seat in the living area, moving a couple of newspapers and some of Leo’s clothes out of the way first, while he makes hot chocolate.

  ‘Can I read you my speech?’ I ask as he hands me a mug.

  ‘Okay. Go for it.’

  I pull my notes from my jeans pocket.

  ‘How shall I address everyone, if they come? Should I be casual and chatty, or formal?’

  ‘Formal I think, then you can relax and do the chatty stuff later. You have to show you’re professional about this.’

  ‘I’m not sure this is going to work.’ I sink back into the squashy cushions. ‘What made me imagine it would?’

  ‘It could be like convincing the members of the Flat Earth Society that the globe is spherical,’ Leo agrees, sitting down next to me and looking over my shoulder at my notes. ‘At least they won’t be able to complain they haven’t been consulted. Hey, Stevie, are you listening?’ Leo slides his arm around my back and gives me a squeeze.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I am,’ I say, but I wasn’t really concentrating.

  ‘I would welcome them and give them the guided tour before letting them loose on the sherry and cakes while they study the plans. I wouldn’t alienate them by making them stop and listen to a speech.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘Let the sherry and cake do their magic.’

  ‘Are you serious or pulling my leg again?’ I ask him as his lips curve into a smile.

  ‘I’ll leave that to you to decide.’

  Being close to him, watching the rise and fall of his chest and breathing his scent of mint and chocolate makes me begin to lose the power of rational thought. He strokes my thigh, sending a quiver of longing up my spine, at the same time as his mobile vibrates in his pocket.

  ‘I’m sorry, I have to take this – I’m on call.’ Frowning, Leo answers it and arranges to visit a sick pig near Talysands, making me feel as sick as a pig myself. ‘I haven’t a clue where it is. I’ll have to programme the sat nav.’ He turns back to me. ‘Come over tomorrow night and tell me all about it –’ he arches one eyebrow – ‘and don’t forget my cake.’ He pauses. ‘Or you could wait here for me.’ He lowers his voice to a seductive whisper and adds, ‘I wouldn’t mind coming back to find you in my bed, Stevie.’

  ‘Go and see to that pig,’ I say lightly. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Good luck with the meeting,’ Leo adds.

  The next day, I complete the preparations, vacuuming the floors and opening up the double doors onto the garden before the guests start arriving from one o’clock onwards, carefully timed to fit between the morning and afternoon milking. Plenty of people turn up, but no one wants to join the farm tour, so I show them straight into the living room where they pounce on the cupcakes and begin knocking back the sherry. Fifi Green is here with her husband, along with some of the shopkeepers from Talyton St George and local farmers, including the Pitts from Barton Farm and Chris, who keeps sheep.

  ‘If you’re trying to sweeten us up, it won’t work,’ Guy says when he arrives with Jennie.

  ‘Guy, don’t start.’ Jennie hangs on to his arm as if she’s trying to hold him back. ‘Remember this is a business opportunity for me. Go and look at the plans or somethi
ng while I have a chat with Stevie.’

  ‘Why do I get the feeling this was a bad idea?’ I say as I fetch a glass of orange juice for Jennie.

  ‘It’s inevitable you’ll have ups and downs when you’re setting up a business,’ Jennie says. ‘My first order for a wedding cake was almost a disaster, thanks to Lucky, our dog, who snaffled it down at the last minute. I spent the night before baking and decorating cupcakes. It was a great success in the end, but it gave me my first grey hairs. Hang in there, Stevie. You’ll get through it.’

  My father is talking to Guy. He bangs his stick on the floor. ‘You don’t like it because my daughter is going to make a success of this farm. You’re scared we’re going to make pots of cash out of this venture.’

  ‘Dad! It isn’t all about money,’ I interrupt.

  ‘Oh, don’t dress it up, Stevie,’ Guy responds. ‘I don’t believe all your environmental awareness crap. We all know the bottom line is money.’

  ‘Have you gazed into your own navel recently?’ I ask Guy.

  ‘You have fingers in plenty of other pies: dairy, renting out your farmhouse and converting the bakery,’ Dad says.

  ‘And we didn’t object to any of that,’ I point out.

  ‘Yes, you did.’ Guy stands with his arms folded. ‘You had a right go about it, didn’t you, Tom?’

  ‘Dad, how could you?’ I feel let down. How can he act like the innocent when he’s as bad as the neighbours? Why didn’t he mention it to me? I’d never have let him speak to Guy if I’d known.

  ‘You’ve never liked anything I’ve done on the farm,’ Guy complains. ‘You’ve been the neighbour from hell over the years. You were the one who moved that ruddy fence.’

  ‘What fence?’ My father blusters in such a way that proves he knows perfectly well which fence Guy is referring to.

  ‘The one you moved in the middle of the night,’ Guy says.

  ‘You had those contractors build it three feet over on our side of the boundary,’ my father counters.

  ‘So you did move the fence,’ Guy says with a smirk of triumph. ‘I knew it. We all knew it.’

  ‘Dad!’ I exclaim.

  ‘I put it back in its rightful place,’ he insists.