by Jodi Taylor
The world seemed to hang in the balance. Even Russell seemed afraid to speak.
Jack finished his apple and rubbed his head very gently against her.
‘That’s how he says thank you,’ I said, around the lump in my throat.
She stroked his nose. He closed his eyes and heaved that deep, donkey sigh again.
I thought of her little orchard next to her cottage. A handsome donkey living in a pretty orchard. Safe and happy to the end of his days. He would love and be loved. Isn’t that what we all want? And, because he belonged to Mrs Balasana, he would have the best of everything.
‘He really seems to like you,’ said Russell, without any hint of astonishment. I was proud of him. ‘You’re the first person he’s ever had any sort of interaction with since his owner died. We haven’t been able to do anything with him. In fact, we’re about to send him back to the sanctuary.’
We weren’t about to do anything of the sort, but Russell has his own sales pitch.
‘But why?’
‘Well, he lost his owner and nothing anyone does seems to get through to him. Until today.’
We all looked at Jack, doing his sewing machine impersonation again.
‘I wonder, Mrs Balasana, do you think you would like to take him?’
‘What? Oh, no – no, I don’t think so. It’s so painful when you lose something or someone precious. When they die it’s almost unbearable.’
His voice suddenly gentle, Russell said, ‘Yes, you’re right. How long did you have her?’
‘Eleven years. She was the last link with ... someone special.’
‘Well, you’re going to feel pretty rotten for a week or so, but to me that seems a more than fair exchange for the joy she’s brought you over the last eleven years. I mean, take Jenny here. Far more trouble than she’s worth, and as you’ve seen, her relatives are a living nightmare, and yet I wouldn’t give up one single second of the time we’ve been together.’
I couldn’t look at him. ‘Russell...’
Jack looked up at her. She looked down at Jack. The moment went on and on. No one spoke.
She seemed to come to a decision. ‘Mr Checkland, I wonder if I might have a word with you...
*
I had been so involved with Jack and Mrs Balasana, that I hadn’t noticed Thomas walking slowly towards the gate. I watched Russell and Mrs Balasana go into the house together, and then chased after him. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Sometimes Jenny, all that’s needed is a goodbye.’
‘Thomas, no. You’re not leaving again, are you?’
‘I am, yes. My work here is done.’
‘But I’ll see you again?’
Silence.
‘But we agreed...’
‘I know we did, but you really don’t need me any longer, Jenny. You and Russell will have many happy years together. Your daughter will grow to be joyful and your son will be happy. What more do you need?’
‘Nothing. I don’t need anything, but I want to see you.’
He smiled. ‘You will – but not for a while yet.’ Suddenly, he was mischievous Thomas again. ‘You shouldn’t have seen me now.’
Something fell into place. He had told me he was just passing through. ‘You’re not here for me, are you?’
‘No. Although I couldn’t resist calling in to see you again.’
‘So, if not me – who were you here for?’
He said nothing, but looked back at the house.
‘You were here for Mrs Balasana?’
‘She was so very unhappy, Jenny.’
‘Do you – do you do this sort of thing very often?’
‘I do it all the time. Some people see me – some people don’t. I just do what I can. Shall we walk?’
We stepped out into the lane and began to walk up the lane. The sun shone brightly and the air was hot between the high hedges. Birds sang all around us. Everything was wonderful and Thomas was leaving me again.
‘It’s always so peaceful here,’ he said, over the quiet clop of his hooves.
I made one last appeal. ‘Thomas...’
He looked down at me through his forelock, his dark eyes full of love. ‘Take care, my lovely Jenny.’
I knew. I just knew. There was nothing I could say. The time had finally come...
I made myself be calm. I wouldn’t cry. I had my world. I had Russell, and Joy, and Russell would need me if Mrs Crisp left, and there was Sharon’s cupcake shop to support, and this Christopher business to sort out, and I was learning to drive, and I was pretty sure I now had ovaries straighter than a plumb line. In other words, I had a life. I finally had a voice and a life and I would never take either of them for granted. Every day, I would love the people around me. I wouldn’t wait until it was too late. And I would be happy.
I tidied his forelock, gently pulling the strands together and smoothing them straight. ‘Look after yourself, Thomas. I shall often think of you.’
‘And I of you. Come here.’
He lowered his head and we rested our foreheads together. For the last time, I inhaled the scent of warm ginger biscuits.
‘I can never thank you enough, Thomas. For everything you have done for me.’
‘You have already thanked me. Many times. Have a lovely life, Jenny.’
‘You too, Thomas. Don’t forget me.’
I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Jenny, I tell you now, the events of yesterday will live with me for ever.’
I smiled. ‘Me too.’
He stood waiting and I suddenly remembered. Stepping back, I placed one hand on forehead, and said, ‘Thomas, I release you.’
‘Goodbye, Jenny.’
For the first and last time, I kissed his nose. ‘Goodbye, Thomas.’
He turned and walked away up the lane, his hooves sending up little puffs of dust. After a few paces, he turned and looked back at me and I knew he was smiling. And I knew that the next time I saw him he would be taking me with him. But not for a while yet.
Then he turned back, broke into a sudden gallop from a standing start and thundered up the lane, kicking up small stones and clouds of dust. His mane and tail streamed behind him. The lane bent around to the right, but he just carried straight on. Reaching the hedge, he bunched his muscles and leaped into the air. My eyes were blurred with tears, but for a moment – just for one perfect moment – time stood still and he hung in the air, a shimmering golden arc in the sunshine. I ran to a gap in the hedge and watched him gallop away for the last time.
And then – in that final moment – just before he disappeared into the distance, just before he left my life for ever, he kicked up his heels for the sheer joy of living. Then the sound of his hoof beats died away, and he was gone.
THE END
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Jo Hobbs for the chicken chat. An eye-opening glimpse of the bizarre world of the chicken.
The Chronicles of St Mary’s
By Jodi Tylor
Follow the disaster magnets of St Mary's as they hurtle around history! The ninth book in The Chronicles of St Mary's Series collects the bestselling short stories in print for the first time.
For more information about Jodi Taylor
and other Accent Press titles
please visit
www.accentpress.co.uk
Published by Accent Press Ltd 2017
ISBN 9781682996027
Copyright © Jodi Taylor 2017
The right of Jodi Taylor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocop
ying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN
