by G. R. Gemin
“Don’t be sarky, Gemma. This is your doing.”
“Me? I didn’t know till today.”
“You got your gran the invite to the farm, though, didn’t you?”
“No Mam, Kate did.”
“Well, Kate can take her cow back.”
She came to the table and plonked a couple of sausages dripping in oil on each of our plates. I pictured Jane with her big, staring eyes.
“I’ll just have beans, Mam,” I said.
“Don’t start, Gemma. I’m not in the mood.”
“Honest now, Mam, I don’t want them.”
“Why not?”
It was bad timing, but right at that moment I realised.
“I want to be vegetarian from now on.”
TWENTY
Sunday morning Gran didn’t answer the door.
“Maybe she’s round the back with Jane,” I said to Mam.
“Who’s Jane?”
“The cow,” I said.
Mam clucked her tongue. “I can’t be bothered going round,” she said. “Go and open up for me.”
I started walking and Darren followed.
“Got your bike back then?” he said with a smirk.
“Yeah. Got a cut of the money, did you?”
“No!”
We turned into the alley and I could see people at Gran’s back door again. “That’ll never do the job,” Roger was saying, looking up at Morris leaning out of Gran’s upstairs window. He was tying the corner of a blue tarpaulin to a hook on the wall.
“Where’s Gran?” I asked.
“Indoors, making cheese,” said Roger.
“Massive!” said Darren, staring at Jane. “A proper, massive cow.”
“Be careful you don’t annoy her or she’ll turn on you,” Roger said. “Dangerous, cows are. Killed people, they have.”
“No, they haven’t,” said Darren.
Right on cue, Jane turned and eyeballed him. He backed away and I couldn’t help smiling.
“What are you scared of, Darren?” I said. “It’s a cow not a crocodile.”
It was out before I realised it’s what Kate had first said to me. Then I heard Gran’s doorbell. “Oh! Forgot about Mam!”
I went into the back of the house, and there was Gran stirring something in a huge bowl. “Gran, Mam’s at the door!”
“Oh, Gemma, I haven’t stopped,” she said. “What with the milking, making cheese here, then clearing out the yard…”
“Well, take it easy, Gran,” I said.
“Why should I? I haven’t enjoyed myself this much since the war. Oh, by the by, Mr Banerjee’s grandson dropped that off for you.” She nodded towards the sideboard, and I noticed a black case.
“What is it?”
“A flute. Said you’d always fancied learning to play. News to me.”
I opened the case and saw a lovely silver flute in two sections.
“Takes lots of practice, Gemma,” said Gran. “He said he’d give you a lesson sometime.”
I felt all warm hearing that; then I heard Mam knocking loudly.
“Oh, let her in for goodness’ sake,” said Gran. “That door won’t take much more.”
“Gran, don’t tell Mam about the flute,” I said.
“Right you are,” she replied as she stirred the cheese. I loved the way Gran didn’t question some things. I went through and opened the front door.
“Where you been?” Mam said as she entered.
“Sorry, Mam, got distracted.”
On the pavement was a man, woman and two children. “This where the cow is?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, but I wondered if they were inspectors or something.
“Do you think we could show the kids? Bit of a novelty, like.”
“I’ll ask,” I said.
Gran was still stirring the cheese as I came back. “People at the door, Gran, asking if they can see Jane.”
“Course they can. Bring ’em through.”
Mam came in from the yard. “Of all the stupid things I’ve seen in my life, Mam. Come on now, a great, lumping cow in your backyard. I mean, what for?”
“Milk, butter, cheese and company,” said Gran.
“Company? Talking cow, is it?”
“No. And don’t call her ‘lumping’ – sensitive, she is. Anyway,” she muttered, “pot calling the kettle black.”
I went to the front door and invited the family in. I took them through the kitchen where Mam was still having a go at Gran.
“It’s a liability, Mam!”
“How?”
“How? It’s a cow, that’s how!”
“Ooh, that rhymes,” Gran said to herself with a chuckle, then she noticed the family. “Oh, hello. Come to see Jane, have you?”
“If it’s no trouble,” he said. “I’m John and this is my wife, Mary, and the kids; we’re the Llewellyns from over the Common.”
“No trouble at all, love. She’s out back. Follow me.” Gran led them out.
“We’re thinking of getting some chickens,” he said as he passed us. “Bit of sustainable living.”
“She’s letting strangers through the house,” Mam said to me, just as thumping footsteps came down the stairs and Morris walked by on his way out.
“What was he doing upstairs?” Mam asked.
“Fixing up a shelter for Jane.”
I’ve never seen Mam look so surprised. “She’s got a cow in the backyard, she’s making cheese in a bucket, and a nutter roaming around upstairs. She’s lost her ruddy marbles!”
Mam went to the back door. I stood beside her and we watched as Gran showed Jane to the visiting family. Morris and Roger were still arguing as they fixed the tarpaulin to the back wall and Mr Banerjee was shovelling cow dung into a bucket.
“Any going spare?” Mr Llewellyn asked him.
“Yes, certainly,” he replied.
“Hello, Mr Banerjee,” I said.
He smiled at me. “Hello, Gemma.”
He had a nice, kind smile, and I wondered why I’d ever avoided him.
Darren came running in from the back alley. “This do, Gran?”
He was holding a load of grass and weeds.
“That’ll do lovely, Darren.”
“Can I feed her?”
“Aye, she likes fresh grass and such.”
I watched my annoying, creeping, sly little brother start feeding grass to Jane, like he was a country boy. I was amazed. I looked at Mam, but she was still staring open-mouthed at Mr Banerjee shovelling cow poo. Darren was grinning as Jane chewed away at the grass he’d brought her. “There’s loads out back, Gran,” he said. “I’ll get some more.”
“Good boy, Darren! Good boy!”
“I don’t believe it,” said Mam. I was about to say “nor do I” when I noticed the shrub I helped Gran plant over Ruby and realised she hadn’t mentioned that dog for ages. Now she had a backyard full of people, and she was busy and happy.
“Due for a milking, aren’t you, girl?” Gran said to Jane. “Gemma. D’you fancy milking her?” she asked. “You seen me do it.”
I surprised myself when I said, “Go on then.”
TWENTY ONE
The teats were warm. Gran taught me to pinch the top of the teat with my thumb and squeeze with my fingers. I got the hang of it eventually. Jane turned her head and gave me a look, as if she was saying, “Not bad, now just get on with it.” It was awesome to see milk squirt out, and it wasn’t long before the bucket was almost full. Then Ryan and Jamie walked in, bold as brass.
“Who said you could waltz in here?” said Roger, as he was fixing the tarpaulin with Morris.
“Come to see the cow, ’aven’t we?” said Ryan.
“Right, well, there she is. Now hop it!”
“You can stay if you behave,” said Gran.
“Massive, innit?” said Jamie.
“Watch it! She’s milking,” said Darren. “Dangerous, she is now. Trample you to death if you’re not careful.”
“Cr
ap,” said Ryan, as he stepped back.
“What’s that coming out?” asked Jamie, pointing at the bucket.
“Milk, of course!” Gran said. “Have your cornflakes dry, do you?”
Roger laughed, and so did Mr Banerjee.
“Where d’you think it came from then?”
Jamie and Ryan stared at the milk squirting into the bucket like they’d just been told they’d eaten chips made with maggots.
“It’s heated up,” Gran explained. “Otherwise it could make you ill. It has to be pasteurised, like in the supermarket.”
Jamie covered his mouth and ran out into the alley.
Loads of people were popping round to gawp at Jane in the backyard. I thought it was funny, because, let’s face it, if you want to see a cow you can go out into the country – there’s loads of them – but put one in a backyard on the Bryn Mawr and it was like a celebrity had turned up.
Mam paced the kitchen as Gran stirred the milk in a huge pot she had on the cooker.
“I’m worried, Mam, I got to say.”
“I can tell,” said Gran. “Is it Robbie?”
Robbie’s my dad.
“No, Mam, it’s not Rob. It’s you!”
“Me?” Gran winked at me.
“Yes, Mam. I mean, I know you must be sad losing Ruby an’ all, but a cow?”
“That cow has nothing to do with Ruby. Kate asked me if I fancied looking after her for a while and I jumped at the chance.”
“And did this Kate give you money to look after her?”
Gran stopped stirring the milk. “Now, listen here,” she said. “What I do in this house is my business, right? That cow’s not cost me a penny so far…”
Darren came in with his hands full of grass. “Gran! This all right? Got it from Morris’s garden, said we were doing him a favour.” Jamie and Ryan were behind him.
“Spoil her, you will,” Gran said with a grin. “Go on, be gentle.”
I went to the back door – I just didn’t trust them, but there they were, the three of them, feeding the cow what they’d pulled up from Morris’s backyard.
“Don’t go on, love,” said Gran to Mam when I came back. “I’m having fun. And if you’re worried about the money I let you have each week, don’t. I’ll still help you out.”
This was news to me. I had no idea Gran was subbing her.
“It’s not that,” Mam said. “I’m just worried about the strain it’ll put on you.”
“You just concentrate on you and I’ll look after me, right?”
“But how long are you going to keep it?”
Gran took a tin out of a cupboard. She pulled out the tea bags, and then from the bottom a couple of twenty-pound notes. “I’ll keep her as long as Kate lets me,” she said as she handed Mam some money. “And by the way.” She glanced at me. “Your daughter’s been a marvellous help. A star, she is.”
I blushed.
TWENTY TWO
When I turned into the farmyard the sun was going down so I knew I’d have to head back pretty soon, but I wanted to see Kate and tell her all that was going on. I could see a light on in the milking shed, and, sure enough, there she was, splashing the floor with water and brushing it away.
“Hi,” I shouted.
She frowned as she came up to me, looking over my shoulder like she was checking who was around. “Everything all right?”
“Everything’s great. The neighbours have got into Jane too, even my brother, Darren. Gran’s got them all running round for her.”
Kate went back to washing down.
“I milked her!” I said. “With my hands, I milked Jane.”
She nodded and I think I saw a little smile. A car came into the farmyard and her head snapped up. It was her dad.
He came straight across to the shed, and gave me a nod.
“Everything all right?” he asked Kate.
“Why shouldn’t it be?”
“Talking to Don Mostyn just now…” he said.
Kate stopped sweeping.
“He wants to come and look over the cows. I told him they’re in good shape and gave the credit to you.”
I shouldn’t have been there by rights but it was like my shoes were cemented to the ground.
“Be a new start, Kate. There’ll be enough money left over to buy a shredder, so I can do some proper tree surgery and garden clearance. I’m going to set up a workshop in here, and then—”
“Can I keep one of the cows?” Kate asked, stopping him dead in his tracks.
“What? What for?”
She was gripping the sweeping brush so tight her fingers were white. “I wanna keep one.”
“What’s the point?”
“I want a cow.”
She said it like she was asking for new clothes or a mobile. Her dad glanced at me. “We need all the money we can get.”
“I’ll buy one off you. You can take it out of my pocket money – pay you back a little at a time.”
“Kate, don’t try me.”
“A cow loan.”
“That’s enough!”
“That’s right. You’ve had enough and given up.”
“No. You’re just blind to what’s happening in the real world of farming. You’re great with those cows, a natural. But you’re thirteen – you know nothing about milk quotas, or wholesale prices, inspection costs, vaccination costs. You just see this farm like … like you’re looking at a picture book – Jack and Jill go to the farm. You’d have us prancing around pretending to be a farm, because that’s what we’re doing, just pretending!” He turned and walked out.
Kate went up to the door, staring after him as if I wasn’t there. She looked like she hated him. “He still hasn’t spotted one’s missing.”
She let the brush fall to the floor and left. I watched her disappear into the darkness. I was going to be late back, but she was in far worse trouble.
Mam was watching the TV when I got in. I’d phoned as I left the farm – said I had a puncture, just as an excuse. She was still angry by the time I got home.
“Sorry, Mam,” I said.
“I don’t want be on the front of the Echo, Gemma – Mother lets thirteen-year-old daughter stay out all night.”
“Had to stop every five minutes to pump up my tyre.”
“New inner tube,” said Darren.
“There’s your dinner,” said Mam, with a wave at the table.
There was a pork chop, potatoes and veg. I didn’t react. I was too hungry. I ate the potatoes and veg in a couple of mouthfuls. Mam was watching the TV, but I could sense her looking at me now and again.
“Gran said cows have got four stomachs,” said Darren. “Four!”
Mam grunted.
“Jane ate tons and tons of grass.”
“It’s a cow, Darren,” Mam said. “It’s not Jane, it’s a cow.”
“People call their pets names, Mam, don’t they?”
“It’s not a pet, though, is it? It’s a cow, for God’s sake! What you two don’t get is that it’s difficult enough for me to make ends meet without my eighty-yearold mam looking after a cow!”
“She’s got loads of help,” said Darren. “Me and Jamie are helping too.”
“If you want to help you could tidy your room, do your own washing and get dinner underway, yeah? Charity begins at home. Ever heard of that?”
“No. What’s it mean?”
I couldn’t help smile.
“It’s not funny, Gemma!”
“Mam, it’s not forever,” I said. “She’s happy being so busy, and she was so sad when Ruby died.”
“I never would have thought I’d say it but I wish that dog was still alive.”
“I don’t,” said Darren and me at the same time.
“You two been sponsored to disagree with me or something? And are you going to eat that pork chop?” she asked me.
“No, Mam. I’m veggie now. It’ll save you money, won’t it? Whatever vegetables you cook I’ll eat.”
Mam s
hook her head.
“Hey!” said Darren. “We can tell Dad about Jane tomorrow!”
It was a bank holiday and I’d forgotten about visiting Dad.
“I’m sure he’ll be fascinated,” said Mam. She sighed. “I don’t know, a useless bloke in prison and a mam with a cow in her backyard –’ appy days.”
Later, when I was in my room, I tried the flute for the first time. But all I could get out of it was a stupid hooting noise.
“Gemma!” Mam shouted. “What the hell’s that noise?”
“Nothing!” I yelled back.
I looked at the lovely silver tube and said to myself, “It’s just a flute I’ll never be able to play.”
TWENTY THREE
We sat facing Dad at a table among the other prisoners with visitors. I never felt comfortable being there. All the prisoners met their visitors in the same room. I hated that – sometimes you’d see people crying or having an argument, and it was tense all the time.
Dad was looking fit and well, though his hair was in a ponytail which was well embarrassing.
“Should see her,” said Darren. “Massive, she is.”
“What’s this?” Dad asked.
“What he says – a cow at my mam’s.”
“Joke, is it?”
“No.”
“Looking well, Claire,” he said to Mam.
“Well, it’s all the sun I’m getting, and restaurant food.”
Mam’s sark bounced off him. “In the gym all the time now,” he said, “and I’m up to a hundred press-ups.”
It irritated me that he didn’t ask about the cow – it’s not like you hear someone’s got a cow in their backyard every day.
“She makes cheese and butter too,” said Darren.
“Who does?”
“Gran, with the milk from Jane.”
“Who’s Jane?”
“The cow,” I said. “All the neighbours are helping out, even Morris.”
Dad nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t interested. “Hundred sit-ups too – rock hard, my stomach,” he said as he slapped his belly. “You’ll be well impressed, Claire. New man for you when I’m out.”
“Can’t wait. What’s his bank balance like?”
“Course I need loads of protein. So when I’m out I’ll be eating this cow.”
