Country Loving

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘Not yet. I’m still hoping. No, DJ won’t budge on his budget, so I’ve said I’ll find someone else. So if your offer still stands, I’d like to take you up on it. If the planning does go through, we’ll start building the Shed in January. Any time after that and it will be too late.’

  ‘My cousin will be made up,’ says James, ‘and it’ll give me a good start to the year.’

  ‘Let’s hope we get good news soon then.’

  ‘I’d better get on with the float. Stand back, Stevie. I don’t want any accidents.’

  He slips his visor down over his eyes and touches the chainsaw blade to the wood, the teeth bind and there’s an enormous clattering sound and swearing as the chain snaps away, flying into the air, followed by a scream and the sound of horses’ hooves thundering away into the distance.

  ‘Ohmigod,’ I shout, glancing back to check James is okay as I run to the side of the barn, pull up a barrel and climb onto it so I can scramble over the wall and see what’s going on outside on the footpath. Sophie is lying on the floor, sobbing and gasping for breath, while Georgia is clinging to her horse for dear life as it rears and tosses its head repeatedly, trying to follow its friend Bracken as she gallops off away from home.

  ‘That noise,’ says Georgia. ‘It spooked the ponies.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. James, come quickly. I’ll look after Sophie,’ I say as he vaults over the wall. ‘You go and catch the pony.’

  ‘If I can,’ he says, grimacing as it disappears into the distance. ‘It looks more like a bloody racehorse.’

  I join Sophie on the floor, putting my arm around her and telling her to breathe slowly. She’s conscious, but winded, and I worry she’s broken something.

  ‘Can you take your horse over there?’ I ask Georgia, who’s clearly worried for her sister too. ‘I don’t feel terribly safe with those horseshoes flashing about so close to my ears.’

  Georgia tightens her calves against the horse’s sides and it springs forwards, taking a hold of the bit and dancing on the spot. Bracken is the bay-brown creature with the mealy muzzle and bug-eyes, while Georgia’s mount is a big chestnut horse, part thoroughbred with long legs and pricked ears.

  ‘Stop being such an idiot, Chester,’ she tells him, smacking him on the neck with her crop at the same time.

  Gradually, Sophie catches her breath and begins to calm down. I start to relax a little. I don’t think we need an ambulance.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘My bottom hurts and my leg.’

  ‘I’ll call your mum and let her know what’s happened,’ I tell her.

  ‘She’s at the bakery.’

  ‘I’ll go and get her,’ says Georgia and she rides Chester past. In the meantime, while we’re waiting for Jennie, James appears with Bracken. She is mooching along on the end of the reins as if nothing has happened.

  ‘Are you going to get back on?’ James asks.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Sophie says as Bracken stops and snatches mouthfuls of grass from along the side of the path. ‘I don’t want that pony any more. She hates me. She’s always bucking me off.’

  ‘It wasn’t the pony’s fault,’ I say, helping Sophie up. ‘James was working in the barn and the chain snapped on the chainsaw. It went with a terrific bang.’

  Sophie seems a little disappointed that she hasn’t broken a bone.

  ‘Georgia broke her arm when she fell off Bracken. She couldn’t ride for ages.’ Sophie hobbles along, holding on to my hand, and I wonder what it will be like, having a daughter of my own. ‘I don’t really like riding much. I prefer mucking out. In fact, I don’t think I’ll ride any more. Georgia makes me go out for hours and she’s mean to me.’

  ‘Oh, I doubt that.’

  ‘She is. She makes me go out in the rain until I get soaked. She was the one who decided to go this way today. I told her we should have gone down the lane. I hate my stupid sister! I don’t know why Mum won’t put her in a foster home.’

  I try not to laugh, but I’m concerned about Sophie’s opinion of riding. Isn’t it every girl’s dream? We used to have a pony on the farm and I did ride him on and off for a couple of years, but he was often lame and my father didn’t want to waste any grazing on ponies, so we weren’t allowed to have another one, plus my mum wasn’t horsey like some of the Pony Club mums. It seems such a shame that Sophie has a pony but she doesn’t really want to ride.

  Jennie comes waddling as fast as she can along the track towards us. She waves frantically.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I call. ‘She’s still in one piece.’

  By the time she reaches her mum, Sophie is hardly limping. She has a sandy patch on her jodhpurs and her face is smeary with dust and dried tears.

  ‘Are you going to jump back on?’ Jennie asks. ‘I think you should get back in the saddle at least to walk back to the stable. I don’t want you losing your confidence over a tiny little tumble.’

  ‘It wasn’t that tiny,’ I say. ‘Bracken shied and cantered off.’

  ‘Well, no harm done,’ Jennie says brightly. ‘You’ll still be all right for the showjumping team competition next weekend.’

  ‘I don’t wanna do it,’ Sophie says.

  ‘But you’ve been training all summer.’ Jennie glances at me. ‘I feel as if we’ve all been focused on it. You’ve been selected for the team – it’s a great honour. I don’t think Guy would be very pleased if you back out now after we’ve spent all that money on the ponies. We spend a fortune keeping you in jodhpurs.’ Jennie has the bearing of an over-competitive mother and I wonder if I’ll be the same with my daughter.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I think it was our fault,’ I say. ‘James was working on the float.’

  ‘How is it going? I’d forgotten I was supposed to be making some costumes for the girls.’

  ‘Haven’t you got enough to do? Isn’t the baby due around carnival time?’

  ‘Any time in the next two weeks. I was late with the others.’ Jennie looks down as she stretches her smock across her bump.

  ‘Why don’t I look for a couple of those all-in-one suits – there’s bound to be a cow or a pig onesie available online.’

  ‘Ah, they both want to be ponies,’ Jennie says. ‘A pig is a complete no-no. They might come round to the cow with some bribery and corruption.’

  ‘I’ll have a look,’ I say.

  ‘Guy was telling me about how Uphill Farm and Nettlebed Farm were fierce rivals at carnival time.’

  ‘Just at carnival time?’ I cut in, amused.

  ‘Good point,’ Jennie says.

  ‘Did he tell you about the time when he and his brother sabotaged our float?’ They were a lot older than us and should have known better, but they wanted to win by fair means or foul.

  Jennie hesitates for a fraction of a second too long, making me doubt her.

  ‘No, I don’t believe so,’ she says. Is she protecting her husband?

  ‘We were creating a round-the-world theme and they stole our globe. In return, Ray and I let the tyres down on their trailer at the last minute. Okay, I’m not proud of it either, but it was war.’

  ‘Guy told me you let down their tyres before they stole the globe,’ Jennie says.

  ‘So they did do it,’ I say. ‘I could never prove it – until now!’

  Jennie’s hand flies to her mouth. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘I knew you weren’t telling the truth,’ I say lightly. ‘Jennie, you give yourself away.’

  ‘So you aren’t cross with me?’

  I shake my head. ‘I’ve always wondered.’

  She breaks into peals of laughter. ‘Guy will kill me.’

  ‘He won’t, Mummy,’ says Sophie. ‘He loves you too much.’ She turns to me. ‘He brought Mummy breakfast in bed before he did the milking this morning.’

  ‘It was lovely, but too early,’ Jennie smiles.

  ‘Let me know if you need me – when the baby’s on its way,’ I say.

  ‘Tha
nk you, Stevie.’ Jennie looks down the footpath where the two girls are heading back towards Uphill Farm, Georgia on horseback, Sophie hobbling alongside Bracken.

  ‘I hope she’s going to be all right,’ I observe.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Jennie says. ‘She’ll stop limping as soon as she gets round the corner. Oh, I know, I’m not terribly sympathetic at the moment. Sophie’s being very difficult – I think she’s worried about the baby and how it’s going to impact her. You have all this to look forward to, Stevie. How is Leo? What did he say when you told him?’

  ‘It’s over,’ I say. ‘I assumed everyone knew.’

  ‘I heard rumours, of course, but I saw he was still living at the farm so I wasn’t sure. I’m sorry. I know you liked him a lot.’

  ‘I probably shouldn’t because I expect I’ll be disappointed, but I live in hope that we might at least be friends again one day.’

  Leo did wave to me this morning as if he wanted to speak to me, but he seemed to change his mind and walked away in the opposite direction. I fold my arms across my chest, trying to check my emotions. ‘I’d better get back to the float. I’ll see you around.’

  ‘Take care, Stevie,’ Jennie says before she follows the girls back along the footpath.

  ‘Panic over,’ James says when we return to the barn. ‘There’s never a dull moment around here. Are you going to make a start on the painting?’

  ‘I’m not sure my artistic talents are up to it. I did Art GCSE and scraped a pass.’

  ‘I’m sure you can manage a couple of animals – a donkey and a rabbit, maybe. They can be cartoon characters.’

  ‘Well, they aren’t going to be fine art.’

  ‘Go for it, Stevie. There are some brushes over in the corner and I found some old part-used tins of paint at home. They’re in the van.’

  ‘What are you going to do about the chainsaw?’ I ask as I pick out the paintbrush with the most bristles from the bucket James has brought with him.

  ‘I can fix it. I have a spare chain.’

  ‘You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?’

  ‘I love it,’ he grins.

  ‘You’re in a very good mood.’ I perch on a bale of straw. I’m putting off the moment when I have to apply paint to the vast expanse of board that is leaning against the wall behind the plough. ‘Are you going to stay for tea and cider? Mary’s made a ham salad and fresh bread. There’s plenty of it.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’m not staying late tonight.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘In fact, I need to get going. I have a date,’ James says, blushing.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘No one you know. She lives in Talysands – she runs the go-karts down on the seafront there. I did some gardening for her.’ He has a twinkle in his eye when he goes on, ‘I mowed her lawn and dabbled in her flowerbeds.’

  ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Divorced with two kids, quite tall, nice smile …’

  ‘Have a good evening then,’ I say, pleased for him.

  When James has gone, leaving the paint with me, I turn the lights on in the barn and have a go at drawing a rabbit, using a piece of chalk to do a rough sketch on the board.

  ‘Hi, Stevie. I heard noises and thought I’d come and investigate.’

  I turn at the sound of Leo’s voice as he approaches, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his hands in his pockets.

  ‘Where’s the dog? He hasn’t barked.’

  ‘He’s over there.’ Bear’s made himself a bed out of the dustsheets and can’t be bothered to move. ‘What do you want?’ I ask. My mouth is dry, my knees weak. Why is Leo here? Why this sudden change of heart, seeking me out so he can talk to me? I don’t believe he came just because he heard noises …

  ‘I came to see what you and James have been up to,’ Leo says.

  ‘What do you think?’ I say, taking a step back to show him my artwork.

  ‘It’s a rabbit,’ he says after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Shouldn’t the ears be a bit bigger?’

  I hand him the chalk. ‘You have a go.’

  Leo moves up close to me.

  ‘You have chalk on your face. Here. And here.’ He touches my cheek, and smiles, making my heart lurch with longing, but the expression in his eyes is one of deep sadness.

  ‘How’s the float going?’ he asks, moving away.

  ‘Slowly, as you can see. We could do with some extra pairs of hands.’ I hardly dare ask. ‘Would you like to join us? It’s good fun.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve been to a carnival before.’

  ‘Then you can come with us and see what you’ve been missing,’ I say, hoping that, if Leo and I can spend time together, he’ll see that we are meant for each other, in spite of the baby, and he’ll forgive me.

  ‘When is it?’

  ‘Late September. You have plenty of time to swap your on-call.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to pass,’ Leo says awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘I probably won’t be here.’

  ‘Why? Where will you be?’

  ‘I’ve got a new job.’

  A chill descends on the barn and it is as if I am standing outside myself. I see myself press my fingers to my lips to suppress a cry of distress at the thought of Leo not being here at Nettlebed Farm, of not being even a small part of my life any more. I hear the sob that catches in my throat and see myself turning away from him, pretending I’m chasing a stray eyelash. I see Leo at my side, putting his arm around my shoulders.

  ‘Why are you so upset?’ he asks quietly. ‘You knew I wasn’t staying for longer than the summer.’

  ‘But you said you would consider staying on,’ I say, the words choking me.

  ‘That was when we were together. We aren’t together any more,’ he says to emphasise the point. ‘You didn’t think I’d stay on when there’s nothing to stay for?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t,’ I say, but I’m lying. I’ve thought about Leo staying for good, dreamed it and hoped for it. ‘This is so stupid,’ I sniff. ‘It’s my hormones making me cry all the time. I’ll miss having you around.’

  ‘I know things have been bad between us recently, but I’d like you to know that, in spite of everything, I think you’re a wonderful person, Stevie, and I’d like to count you as my –’ he corrects himself – ‘one of my best friends.’

  You are my best friend, I want to say, but I don’t want to let myself sound desperate because the last thing I want is for him to feel guilty. It’s better that Leo remains in ignorance about the depths of my love for him. I glance down at the small swell of my stomach. I resent the fact I’m pregnant. Sometimes I hate this baby, this parasite growing inside me. I glance towards Bear. He’s listening to the conversation, one ear cocked, and I sigh. I made my bed, as my father would say, and now I have to lie in it.

  ‘So, when do you leave?’ I ask him, more in control of my emotions.

  ‘I fly out at the end of September or the beginning of October. I’m waiting for confirmation of my flight.’

  ‘So soon?’

  He nods.

  ‘I couldn’t turn it down, Stevie. It’s what I’ve been looking for since I qualified.’

  ‘The dream of working with your friend? New Zealand?’ Any tiny hope I had that he might at least be staying in the UK is dashed, swatted down like a fly. ‘Don’t you need immigration papers to work there?’

  ‘It’s all in hand,’ Leo says. ‘I’ve done my homework.’

  ‘Well,’ I say bravely, ‘I won’t say I’m glad you’re leaving. I wish you all the luck in the world.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he says, and he dives forward and kisses me briefly on the cheek. ‘Can we be friends?’

  I nod. ‘Friends,’ I confirm, my heart screwed up with love, sorrow and confusion. I’m lucky I have my dad, Cecil and Mary, James and Jennie, and the float and the project to work on, but when Leo finally leaves Nettlebed Farm, it will feel like the end of all my dreams.

  Chapter Sevent
een

  Carnival of the Animals

  ‘Why don’t we have Carnival of the Animals as our theme?’ I recall my brilliant idea and wish I hadn’t gone into this on such a grand scale. Carnival of the animal, singular, would have been better, more manageable. I am finishing painting a cow on the boards at the back of the float, a smiley cow that looks more like a hippopotamus, with black and white patches and a flower sticking out of her mouth. It isn’t right. I’d like to paint over her and start again, but – I glance at my watch – it’s too late. The carnival is tonight and we need to get going.

  I’m glad in a way. It gives me something to take my mind – if anything can – off the fact that Leo is leaving soon, having had his flight confirmed for the end of September, just after the carnival.

  James turns up, along with Jennie, Adam, Georgia and Sophie, and Leo texts me to say he’ll be along later because he’s delivering a calf on a farm up near Talyford. We’re on friendly terms again, but there are no more cosy evenings curled up together in the caravan.

  ‘What happened with the date?’ I ask James who’s pulling on his furry onesie. He’s supposed to be a yellow dog, but he looks more like a Teletubby. ‘I forgot to ask.’

  ‘It didn’t work out. She wasn’t my type and I reckon all she wanted was some free landscaping.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. By the way, I’ve found out who’s judging the carnival this year,’ James says. ‘It’s Fifi.’

  ‘Oh no …’

  ‘I was wondering about lodging an objection.’

  ‘This is supposed to be fun,’ I point out.

  James stares at me as if I’m slightly touched.

  ‘Stevie, we’re in it to win it. We haven’t put all this work into the float to come last.’

  ‘I’m ready with the face paints,’ says Jennie, her make-up laid out along the trestle table with brushes and wipes. Perched on the edge of a canvas chair, she looks enormous.

  ‘Are you sure you should be doing this?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she says, smiling. ‘In fact, I’ve never felt better. And I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’ve never been part of a carnival. Guy’s such an old stick-in-the-mud when it comes to these kinds of events. He’s happy enough to run around the streets with a burning tar barrel on his back, but when it comes to dressing up, he won’t do it.’