Mating the Llama

by Oliver, Marina

  'A glass of water,' she whispered. The girl took her arm and pushed her down to sit with her back against the trunk of the old pear tree in the middle of what the estate agent had described as a charming rustic lawn, but which to her more resembled a patch of heathland. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to look at this or the llama. A few seconds later a welcome cold glass was placed in her hand, and guided to her mouth. She sipped the water cautiously, noticing that it came in one of her best crystal wineglasses. Where had the girl found them? Then she remembered and took another gulp.

  'I'm sorry,' the girl said again. 'Can I help you inside? Maybe you ought to be in bed? Are you ill?'

  'Ill? No. But I think I will go to bed. It's OK, I can manage,' she said as she was helped to her feet. Her rescuer was a little over-enthusiastic and she almost toppled back onto the rustic grass. Somehow Lucy managed to shut the bottom half of the door between herself and the girl, and after one shuddering glance at the llama contentedly chewing her grass, smiled weakly and pushed home the bolt. 'Don't worry, I'll be OK now. And thanks for rescuing me.'

  *

  Chapter 2

  'But who could have let her out? Might it have been an accident?'

  Flick groaned. Her brother was too trusting. He'd have put padlocks on the field gates if he hadn't been.

  'The gate was closed when I took her back. It couldn't have swung closed and latched itself. You know those latches have to be lifted manually, and they are quite hard. You have to have better security, Cas. I'm going to put locks and bolts on my alpaca field.'

  'I suppose so. But we've never had this sort of trouble before. This is a peaceful, law abiding place.'

  'It can change. We've never had such valuable animals on the farm before.'

  'If they were concerned with her value, why did they just leave her to wander, and not try to steal her?'

  'I don't suppose llamas are as easy to rustle as sheep or cattle. Anyone they tried to sell her to would be suspicious. It must have been spite, jealousy perhaps.'

  Cas frowned. 'But why? What I'm doing has absolutely no effect on any other farmer round about. I'm not competing with them. In fact, the more land I give over to these the fewer other animals I'll have.'

  Flick shook her head. 'It may not have been farmers. You have rivals, people who would like to romance the sainted Alice but don't get a chance while she is attached to you.'

  'That's ridiculous! They are all grown men, they wouldn't play a stupid trick like that. It must be lads, drunken yobs, doing it for devilment.'

  'Possibly. But she could have been killed if she'd strayed as far as the main road, and Lucy's cottage is only a few yards away.'

  'Lucy? Oh yes, the new neighbour. What's she like?'

  'I didn't have much time to find out, but she was squiffy, and from the looks of the table setting her boyfriend had let her down, and she'd been consoling herself with the party wine.' Flick giggled. 'At first she thought Rosa was some sort of apparition when she peered over the half door. But that's beside the point. When will you fix some locks?'

  'Soon,' Cas promised. 'When I can get out and buy some, and chains.'

  'Tomorrow?'

  'Maybe, if I can get this problem I was working on sorted.'

  Flick sighed. 'The DIY shops do open on Sundays now.'

  'But I have to do this. It's urgent.'

  'If I go and buy them will you fix them, or will you trust me to do it?'

  Cas laughed. 'You can't knock a nail in straight. Don't fuss, Flick, I'll do it as soon as I can.'

  *

  It was ten when Lucy woke. Her head was pounding with a dozen bass drums, but it was also full of the noise of church bells – every church in England must have upped and moved to Shorter's Green, she thought, feeling aggrieved. So much for the peace and quiet of the countryside. Her tongue felt enormous, and was coated with llama hair. Llamas! She'd dreamed of the wretched animal all night, when she wasn't dreaming of the man who'd come to her rescue in the market. She didn't know whether she wanted to meet him again, or whether it would be too embarrassing. One thing was certain, he'd think she was a crazy, incompetent airhead, so she'd have no chance at all with him. Even if she wanted one, and now she wasn't sure about that. In between bouts of alternating misery and fury she decided once more she was definitely off men, all men, even the handsome, helpful ones, for good this time. And llamas.

  It was then she realised it wasn't church bells, but the naff jangling doorbell her predecessors had left when she bought the cottage, playing 'Home, Home on the Range'. The bell had a repertoire of five tunes, and this was the worst. She staggered to the window, thrust the bottom half up and leaned out, just catching onto the frame before she fell into the lavender bushes below. A curly red head was immediately below, topping an orange sweater and bright yellow jeans. Had the girl no colour sense, Lucy wondered as she croaked a greeting. The lavender didn't go with her outfit either.

  'Oh sorry, did I wake you? I thought I'd better come and make sure you were OK. You looked absolutely foul last night.'

  'I felt worse. Give me a couple of minutes and I'll be down. I didn’t thank you properly last night, and I want to know about that blasted animal. It's been haunting me.'

  The girl laughed. 'Let me in and I'll make coffee and toast while you have a shower.'

  Ten minutes later Lucy felt human again – well, almost – and could look at her visitor across the cleared and clean kitchen table. The girl had been busy, and Lucy felt a twinge of shame. She ought to have done some of the clearing up last night. The red stain from the wine had soaked into the wood, but the remnants of the ruined dinner had been piled in the deep sink, out of sight. The floor had been swept, but a lone wilted bluebell peeked out from beneath the dresser on the far wall. It hadn't been a ghastly nightmare.

  A cafetière was on the table, it and two mugs steaming with the fragrant brew. She took a sip, swallowed, and sighed with pleasure as the caffeine percolated through her system. She eyed the toast, and reached for a slice. After a first tentative nibble she realised how ravenous she was. It was more than twenty-four hours since she'd eaten. She spread butter lavishly, topped the toast with marmalade, and tried to eat daintily.

  'I'm Flick Burroughs. Felicity really, but I hate it. I live at the farm across the fields behind your garden. You haven't been here long, have you?'

  'I moved in two weeks ago,' Lucy said. 'I'm Lucy Latimer. I'm afraid I've been so busy I haven't met many of the local people yet. And the house next door seems empty. I've seen no one there, anyway, and no lights.'

  'That's Jeff Bryant. He goes away quite a bit. He's a widower, I think, but he's only lived here two years and we've hardly met.'

  She didn't want to know about widowers. Edward was a widower. That was one of the things she'd thought made them compatible. 'Tell me about the llama.'

  Flick grimaced. 'Rosa? She belongs to my brother Cas. He's always into crazy schemes. This is a new one. He's talking about ostriches and zebras and kangaroos for speciality meats next.'

  Lucy began to feel queasy again, and hastily lowered her toast. 'You're not serious! How could he! Is Rosa destined for the supermarket?' She had a vision of that supercilious gaze leering up from the deep freeze cabinet. It could convert all but the least imaginative to vegetarianism overnight.

  Flick grinned at her in sympathy. 'No, though a lot are eaten in South America. She's for breeding, when he can find a suitable stud, but there are dozens of blood lines and he hasn't sorted them out yet to find the right one.'

  Like humans, Lucy thought, and with a pang recalled the only time she'd been pregnant, but lost the baby at four months. She'd wanted to try again, but Karl wouldn't hear of it, and at the time she'd loved him enough not to mind. But recently her thoughts had turned rather frequently to tiny bootees and lacy bonnets.

  Flick was talking and Lucy forced herself to concentrate. 'Llamas are bred for the wool. It's wonderfully fine. And they make very reliable trekking mounts
. The trouble is he can't find her a suitable mate. They're pretty rare here, and he wants to find a special stud animal.'

  'Don't we all?' Lucy muttered, shook her head, and winced. Did she? After last night she was off men, she remembered.

  'But he can't decide whether it makes sense to buy now. They're expensive, good ones, and until he has more females it's not really worth it.'

  She was trying to get her mind round the idea of a llama harem. It sounded a bit like Karl's wildest fantasies, when he'd suggested bringing the group's female singer and their road manager to live in the apartment with them. She'd suspected for some time that he was shagging them both, but hadn't had any proof until then.

  'Not buy,' she said firmly. 'Men cost too much of both money and emotional upset.'

  'Oh, yes, much the best way. It saves stud fees, which are huge, if he builds up a herd as he means to.'

  Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, and forced her mind away from a herd of nubile young girls and back to animals. 'So she's the only one?'

  'She's his only llama. When he can find the right stud animal he means to buy more. We have six alpacas at the moment, he means to build up a herd of those too, but I suspect he intends me to look after those. They're all related, but alpacas are much more common in England. We keep them in the small orchard by the farmhouse, but if you don't use that lane beyond the hill, you wouldn't know about them.'

  'How did she – Rosa – get as far as here?'

  'It's only half a mile as the crow flies. Someone left her gate open, and the rest of the way isn't gated, it's arable. It was easy enough to track her through the wheat! Good job the rest didn't follow.' Lucy shuddered. 'I'm so sorry she gave you such a fright. She's harmless really, people keep them as pets. She wouldn't have hurt you, she's just too curious for her own good.'

  Lucy picked up the toast again and nibbled cautiously. It was OK. Her stomach was behaving itself. 'I'm sorry I was in a state. I don't usually overindulge.'

  Flick grinned. 'It looked as though you'd lost a dinner guest.'

  'I had, and been consoling myself with the wine but not the food. Now, for the life of me I can't think why. He isn't worth bothering about. No man's worth bothering about.'

  'Like that, eh? Are you single, married, separated, or what?'

  Lucy paused. Oddly, she didn't resent Flick's directness. After months of presenting a protective façade of enigmatic silence to the world, especially to new acquaintances, it was a relief to talk.

  'I was married for seven years. That was six years too many, but I was too big a coward to get out. Then my husband was killed with some mates just over a year ago. A car accident, when they were high – ' she stopped. She didn't want everyone in the village to know the sordid details.

  Flick seemed to understand. 'Not all men are worthless rats. Even Cas has his good points. Did you have children?'

  'No, thank goodness, in the circumstances. I have a sister Kate, and our parents went to live in Australia a couple of years ago. Kate's at university. We haven't any other close relatives. How about you? Are you married?'

  'I'm twenty-five next month. I'm not ready to settle. Too many utterly fascinating men to investigate and I prefer variety. Look, I must go now, we're busy this week, but you must get out and meet some of the locals. I'm going to a party next Saturday. I'll wangle you an invite and collect you at eight.'

  'I can't barge in on strangers!' Lucy was horrified. She'd somehow imagined that apart from work she could hide away in her little cottage, get away from the past and all the people who'd known her while she was married to Karl. She'd contact a few of the old crowd, the before-Karl friends she'd seen nothing of while she'd been with him, and build a new life gradually, with people of her own choosing. Edward had been her first foray into this new life, but even that hadn't been a success, if last night was typical. She certainly didn't want to be plunged into village affairs so soon. She'd heard all about this. If it didn't take you thirty years to be accepted by the older inhabitants, before you knew it you'd be invited to join so many committees and classes and WIs and Mothers' Unions and deliver Meals on Wheels, you never had a moment to yourself.

  'Rubbish. They love to be the first to lionise newcomers. Posh clothes. These people have outgrown the jeans and tee shirt phase. It's country far-from-casuals since they inherited Shorter's Manor and stuck a few hyphens into their name.'

  Her protests that she wasn't ready to meet new people were ignored. She wasn't into posh parties any more, and didn't own any posh clothes anyway. They'd been chucked out along with all Karl's tapes and CDs. And somehow Lucy didn't think they'd have been suitable for a party at a manor house. Flick just smiled and walked firmly to the kitchen door. She closed the bottom half and leaned across it.

  'Go to Annabelle's in the High Street. She's reasonable, you'll be amazed! And she knows Melanie Hoskiss-Shorter. Tell her I sent you, she'll kit you out. Eight o'clock.'

  Lucy was having difficulty listening. She could just see the ears of an animal beyond Flick. It seemed to be tied to the far side of the gate which led into the fields behind the cottage. Then Flick moved, and she saw, to her relief, it had an equine head, and big brown gentle eyes. She could cope with a horse. It wasn't staring at her with that nose in the air attitude that had so unnerved her last night. Flick unhitched the reins, mounted, and waved as she turned away. 'Saturday night,' she called, and within minutes was out of sight beyond the slight rise in the ground.

  *

  Behind her the phone was ringing. She didn't want phone calls, but she had to answer. She never could just let the wretched things ring on and she hadn't yet organised an answering machine. 'Hello?' She knew she sounded both unwelcoming and cautious, but it was Kate.

  'Lucy? Hi, Kate here. I'm coming to see you next Saturday, can you meet the train? 10 am?'

  'Kate? But aren't you in the middle of finals? Didn't you say you finished next week? This line's not very good. There's nothing wrong, is there?'

  'Course not. Gotta go, battery's running right down. Ten on Saturday. Train. Got that? You sound pissed. See ya.'

  She stared at the receiver, frowning. Her sister wouldn't be coming to visit her in the middle of term unless it were serious. But she'd sounded cheerful, as far as one could tell in a few words over a crackling line.

  As she replaced the receiver it rang again. She snatched it up, but it was Edward. He was at the moment her least welcome caller. Until yesterday he'd been high on her list of favourite people, but then, these days she didn't have a very long list. She listened for a moment, hanging onto her patience as he went into a practised spiel about how much he regretted having to cancel last night, how it had been unavoidable, a matter of business, catching someone who was flying out from Heathrow that evening, and he'd make it up to her next time. And how about next Saturday? He was free the whole weekend, he could stay. He was expiating on the joys they might look forward to when she took advantage of what he probably assumed was an inviting pause for contemplating these.

  'No.'

  Next Saturday was getting too crowded. Kate, the party, and now Edward. Was life in the country always so busy?

  'No? What do you mean? Is Kate coming?'

  'Yes, as it happens, but – '

  'I thought she was doing exams,' he interrupted. 'Surely she ought to be concentrating on them so that she can get a decent job. Luce, you have to talk seriously to that girl.'

  She winced. How could she have tolerated being called Luce for the past six months? He'd thought it a term of endearment, and she'd tolerated it as such. Now she knew better. Perhaps that was the charm she held for Edward, a loose woman. Well, now she'd be as tight as – she forced her mind away from unfortunate images.

  'Yes, she is. Coming. And doing exams. What's wrong with that?' she said, letting her irritation show.

  He'd never invited her to his home, saying it was too painful to see another woman there after his wife, but he was planning to move soon and then, he'd said, th
ey could spend more time together. He'd shown her pictures of a big house in a Surrey village, far removed from the small semi where he'd grown up. He had an important job in the City, which he sometimes said he'd like to leave so that he could do what he really wanted. He hadn't specified what this was, so what did Kate's prospects have to do with him? Did he expect Kate to become some sort of City whizz-kid and keep them all in luxury? With a degree in fine arts she'd be lucky to work in a library or museum, hardly places to make one's fortune.

  Her musings were interrupted by splutterings from the phone. 'Luce, are you still there? What about if I come down and talk to Kate?'

  No fear. She wasn't sure if she'd said it. She gabbled in case she had. 'No. I mean no next time. Not on Saturday. Not ever. No more excuses.'

  She listened for a moment longer to his indignant protests, and put down the phone in the middle of his renewed excuses for last night. She wasn't sure how she really felt about Edward. He was an attractive man, and she'd enjoyed his company. Coming from the same town, the same street, they had loads of memories in common, even if he'd never deigned to speak to her when she lived there. After all, he was an eighteen-year-old prefect at the grammar school and she was still at primary.

  He took her to good restaurants, the theatre, classical concerts and art exhibitions. Perhaps this was all a bit highbrow, Lucy thought, but it had been a welcome change after Karl's friends, who spent all their time at parties or in pubs, with the occasional afternoon, when they weren't still plastered from the night before, supporting a football team.

  When she was half way up the stairs the damn thing rang again. It sounded angry. She managed to resist it. The coffee, the toast, and Flick's friendliness had somehow banished her headache and lifted her mood. She would spend the day cleaning and digging up the pansies, Then it was time she explored some more of this small town she'd come to. She had to suss out the opposition. She'd do that next week. But she wasn't going to Annabelle's. Parties were not what she wanted. She'd had enough of them with Karl.