by Lucy Daniels
What would be best for you, Jack? she wondered for what felt like the millionth time. Having a dad in his life ought to be a good thing, but only if his dad was trustworthy. She pictured Michael on the doorstep again. Had he really been trying to say he was sorry? But he’d come to the house. It was luck that Jack hadn’t been there. Wasn’t this just another sign he would continue to force the issue? The thoughts went round and round in her head and she was no further forward. She shoved the worries from her mind. It was almost time to make dinner. Any distraction was welcome.
Her mobile buzzed as she walked through the kitchen door. She pulled it out of her pocket. It was Mandy again. She must be calling to talk about the situation. Maybe she would have some advice. Dinner could wait a few minutes more.
‘Hi, Mandy,’ she said.
‘Susan.’ Mandy’s voice was breathless. ‘Sorry to call, but is there any chance you could do me a favour, please?’
‘Of course.’ Susan had been about to sit down, but she pushed her chair back under the table. The worry in Mandy’s voice was infectious. Was there something wrong at Hope Meadows? With Sky? One of the twins?
Mandy’s voice came again, speaking very fast. ‘We’ve been sent a weather warning. There’s a massive storm on the way and the Highland cattle are in the high field up by Wildacre. There’s a big risk of lightning strike. I’d put them inside myself, but there’s a room full of clients waiting. Jimmy’s away and Jeremy Loxhill’s got a hospital appointment in York – he’s all right but it’s too far to come back – it’s Toby’s night off and he’s gone to York, Dad’s on his way to a calving and I really don’t want to ask Mum … is there any way you could do it … please …?’ She trailed off.
Susan wasn’t sure what to say. Rounding up the cows with Douglas really was the extent of her experience. What would she do if they ran in the wrong direction?
‘It shouldn’t be too hard,’ Mandy said as if reading her thoughts. ‘I’ve been taking them inside every night for feeding to get them used to the barn. If you open the barn door and the gate, they should just go in. You know where the hay is, don’t you?’
Susan took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Mandy had saved Jack’s life last year. If she required Susan’s help, then she would have it. If the cows were at risk, they needed moving. ‘Yes, I’ll go and do it now,’ she replied.
‘Thank you so much.’ Mandy sounded relieved.
‘Are the other animals okay?’ Susan asked. Wouldn’t the cats and dogs be afraid, alone in the house in a thunderstorm?
‘They’ll manage,’ Mandy said. ‘They might be frightened, but they’re safe inside. I’ll need to get on now, but I’ll come as soon as Dad gets back.’
Susan shoved the phone back in her pocket and stood for a moment thinking. Was there anything she needed to take? There was no time to drop Jack at Miranda’s. She’d have to take him and leave him in the car. She rushed through to the kitchen, opened a drawer and pulled out a torch. If she fell over in the dark, she’d be no use to anyone. Then she called to Jack. ‘We need to go and put Mandy’s cows inside,’ she told him. She helped him on with his boots and a warm jacket, then pulled on her own waterproofs. Together they rushed out to the car.
By the time they arrived at Wildacre, the storm was closing in. The windscreen-wipers flashed back and forth. The rain was near horizontal in the glare of the headlights. Susan pulled up as close to the barn as she could. She felt breathless at the task ahead of her, but she had to stay composed. She turned in her seat and spoke to Jack.
‘I shouldn’t be long,’ she told him, trying to sound confident. ‘I’ll go and get the cows. Stay in the car and wait for me. Don’t get out. I’ll be as quick as I can, okay?’
Jack nodded. He seemed to be taking the extreme weather in his stride. Susan glanced at him one last time. He was staring out of the window into the darkness. He seemed perfectly calm.
Thrusting open her car door, Susan leaped out and slammed it behind her. Despite her waterproofs, the rain lashing her face took her breath away. It was freezing. She switched on her torch and made a rush for the barn door. There was a heavy bolt that went into the ground. She reached down and tugged it upwards. A gust of wind lifted her hood and water found its way down her neck as she dragged the door open and ran inside. She shivered. The barn smelled sweetly of hay. Rain was thundering on the roof. She reached up a hand to wipe away a droplet from her cheek and shone her torch round in the darkness. She needed to turn on the lights. In the feeble light, she picked out a switch beside the door. Reaching out a hand, she turned the winged key clockwise and the barn was flooded with soft yellow light. Inside there was a smaller pen with a gate. That must be where the cows should go. She opened it wide.
Stage one complete, she thought. Now she needed to get the gate to the field open and hope the cows would take the hint. She could hear the wind in the trees above the sound of the rain. Somewhere in the darkness, she could hear banging, as if a piece of corrugated iron was loose and flapping. The barn was a haven, but she had to go back out into the storm. Pulling her hood back up, she clasped the neck of her jacket closed. She shone the torch ahead of her as she ran up the short track that led up the side of the house to the field.
She had to let go of her hood to try to open the gate. It blew off and in an instant, her hair was wet through. The gate was tricky. The hinges had sagged and the bolt was holding it up. For a moment, she struggled to pull the latch clear. It was so slippery. Icy cold too: already her fingers were numb. She was going to need both hands, she realised. Gritting her teeth, she shoved the torch into her pocket and tried again, feeling for the cold metal in the darkness. Working the metal pin up and down, she gradually worked it loose and began to open the gate. Close to her ear, she heard the bellow of a cow. The herd must be nearby. If she could get this gate open, hopefully they would run inside, as Mandy had said they would.
A vicious gust of wind whipped through the trees and a flurry of rain hit her neck. Behind her in the lane there was a crash. Still gripping the gate, she twisted round to look. The barn door had blown closed. She blinked the rain from her eyes. She was going to have to go back and open the door again. What about the gate? Should she leave it open? It was too dangerous. If she left the gate and the cows passed the barn and rushed down the lane, they would eventually reach the main road. She couldn’t risk it.
Her muscles were beginning to tremble as she struggled to lift the gate back into position. The bolt wouldn’t line up. Swearing under her breath, she made another effort and the gate slid from her hands as her foot skidded. The ground underfoot was becoming dangerously slippery. She turned to look down the lane and her blood ran cold. There beside the barn door, struggling to push it open, was a tiny figure all bundled up: blue jacket, red mittens and a stripy bobble hat. Susan could see him clearly in the light from the barn.
‘Get back in the car, Jack,’ she shouted, but the wind carried her words away.
Her movements were urgent as she turned back to the gate and leaned her shoulder into it. Scrabbling for a foothold, she shoved the wood upwards. Almost there. The deluge of water was intensifying. She could feel her hair standing up. There was a flash of light and the night exploded. A vicious fork of lighting struck one of the trees so close that Susan could feel the sound: an immense bang as the electricity discharged. Her heart hammered in her chest. She would have to leave the cows. Get back to the car. Get Jack safely inside.
From the field a bellowing roar reached her. A thunder of hooves. Then the gate smashed into her and the cows were rushing past and she was on the ground as water rushed in rivers down the muddy track.
‘Mummy!’ A scream rent the air.
Susan felt the shock in every cell of her body. She shoved herself off the ground and sprinted down the lane. ‘Jack,’ she shrieked. The barn door was half open, but the cows had stopped beside the car and were milling around. Jack was somewhere in the middle of the mob. A flash in her mind. Douglas o
n horseback, racing to head off the cows. And now she could see Jack standing with his back to the car as the cows plunged around him. Anger surged.
She rushed round the herd to the car. She had to drive them away. ‘HeiYA!’ she yelled. ‘GET ON!’ In front of her, the lead cow shook her head. Again that rush of fury. ‘GET ON!’ she screamed again, and this time, the cows turned. Lifting Jack onto her hip, Susan made a rush for the barn door and dragged it open. ‘Come on!’ she roared and to her amazement, the herd careered past her, through the open door, made a circuit of the barn and then slowed. She could hear the rasping of their breathing and her own. She was trembling from head to toe.
‘Jack?’ She bent down to stare into his face.
To her amazement he was grinning. ‘I couldn’t get the door all the way open, Mummy, but I knew the cows would come if they saw the light.’
For a moment, a flame flared within her, white-hot anger born of fear. ‘Why didn’t you stay in the car like I told you?’ she shouted. ‘You could have been killed.’
His face crumpled and for a moment she thought he would cry, but she pulled him into her arms and held his small body against hers, rocking him to and fro. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have got out of the car but thank you. I know you were trying to help.’ Tears burst from her eyes and ran down her face and she held him close so he couldn’t see her face. She didn’t want him to see her cry.
‘Will the cows be all right now, Mummy?’ His voice sounded small in her ear.
Reaching up a hand, she wiped her eyes. ‘They’ll be fine now,’ she said. She managed a smile and he looked reassured. ‘We should give them some hay,’ she said. She put him down and took his hand. Together they walked to the corner of the barn where a pile of hay was stacked in bales. One of the bales was open and between them, Susan and Jack carted a few armfuls over and pushed them into the mangers that lined the wall. They would need more when Mandy came, Susan thought, but she had no knife to cut the string of another bale. It would have to do for now.
For all their rushing around, the cows seemed calm now they were out of the storm. One of them was already lying down and chewing cud. Another two stood beside the manger. Reaching up, they pulled a few wisps of the dried grass and stood there chewing. Despite the howling of the wind outside, it was a peaceful scene.
Susan shivered. In spite of her waterproofs, her shirt was soaked through. Jack must be wet as well, she thought. She was starting to feel the bruises she’d sustained when the cows sent the gate flying. Her shoulder felt stiff where she had fallen on it. The wood had hit her face. Reaching up a hand to explore, she winced. They should get home. She could call Mandy from there. Let her know the cows were safely inside.
‘I’m just going to turn the car headlights on,’ she told Jack. ‘Then I’ll have to shut the barn door. Do you think you can help me?’
Jack squared his little shoulders. ‘Of course I can,’ he said.
The rain had not eased. Susan made a rush for the car, just as lightning flashed again. This time it was more distant. She counted in her head, reaching eight before the rumbling thunder reached her. The storm was no longer directly overhead.
She turned the key in the ignition to turn on the headlights, but as she climbed out again, she heard the sound of another car, coming up the track. Square headlights approached up the track and a moment later, Mandy was jumping out of her RAV4. She rushed over to help Jack and Susan close the barn door, then beckoned them towards the house.
‘Come in,’ she shouted.
Susan quickly turned off the headlights and then they rushed through the rain. Susan gripped Jack’s hand tightly. A moment later, they were standing in the flagged hallway of Wildacre. Their clothes were dripping onto the floor. There was a joyous scrabbling of claws on stone. Four hairy bodies burst from the kitchen. Simba, Zoe, Emma and Sky rushed to greet them, bounding round. Emma let out a yelp of delight. The hallway was a heaving mass of fur and paws and licking tongues.
‘Hello.’ Mandy bent to greet them, as did Susan and Jack. They were irresistible.
They made their way into the kitchen, wading through the tide of dogs. Once there, they stripped off their coats. Mandy lowered the old-fashioned rack from the ceiling and they hung the wet things up to dry. It was lovely and warm. ‘Jimmy must have banked up the stove before he went,’ Mandy said with a grin. Opening the stove door, she grabbed three logs from the basket, tossed them in and closed the door again. Her damp trousers were beginning to steam.
The fire began to burn up and Mandy turned to look at them properly for the first time. She was smiling, but then she frowned as she looked at Susan ‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘What happened to your eye?’
Susan turned to look in the small mirror that hung on the wall beside the window. Her right eye was swollen and turning purple. She would have a black eye by the morning, she thought, but she turned back to Mandy with a smile. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Just a bit of trouble with the gate.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ Mandy inspected Susan with her head on one side. There was still water dripping from Susan’s hair. ‘I’ll get you a towel,’ she said, ‘and then you can tell me what happened.’ She rushed out into the hall and returned a moment later, carrying three towels. ‘Here, Jack,’ she called. She gave Jack’s hair a quick rub down, then wrapped the enormous bath towel around him, clothes and all. Jack seemed warm enough, Susan thought. He was kneeling down, close to the stove and surrounded by dogs.
Mandy pulled out a chair at the table, ushered Susan into it and handed her a towel. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said. ‘I never expected the weather to close in so fast. Dad came back almost straight away too. I should have just done it myself. I’d never have asked you if I’d thought there was a risk.’
Susan shook her head. The awful scene rushed into her head: Jack with his back against the car surrounded and tiny, but then the memory cleared. She’d sorted it out, hadn’t she? It was kind of a rush as she remembered her race to Jack’s side. The yells. Standing her ground. Sending the cows on. She had admired Douglas for the way he had rounded the cows up, but when she’d needed it, she had found her own courage. ‘It’s absolutely fine,’ she said. ‘Any time you want a cowgirl, count me in.’
Mandy laughed. ‘Good to know! Now, would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Definitely yes.’ Susan nodded.
A few minutes later, Mandy set a steaming mug of tea down in front of Susan and sat down opposite. She glanced over at Jack, and Susan’s eyes followed. He had lain down on the floor with the towel covering him. His head was cuddled into Simba’s flank and he was sound asleep. Mandy grinned across the table. ‘It’s lovely when someone makes themselves right at home,’ she said in a low voice. She leaned closer across the table. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ she said. She paused and frowned for a moment, then glanced up as if she had made up her mind. ‘I never, ever give animals as presents in the normal way of things,’ she said. ‘But I’ve been watching Jack and Frostflake over the past few weeks.’ She wrapped her hands round her cup, then looked straight at Susan. ‘I know Jack has been sad about Marmalade,’ she said, ‘but if it would be okay, I’d really love for Jack to have Frostflake. They seem to belong together. Only if you’re ready of course, and if you’re prepared to deal with Frostflake’s special needs. What do you think? Would you be prepared to take him on?’
Susan gazed across the table at Mandy’s kind, earnest face. The tiniest snore came from the pile of dogs across the room. Zoe’s paws were twitching as she started to dream. It would be lovely to have a cat around the house again, and she knew she could trust Jack to take good care of a special one like Frostflake.
She grinned at Mandy across the table. ‘I can’t think of a better present,’ she said. ‘Thank you. Thank you very much!’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Susan took the glass of warm milk out of the microwave and stirred in two teaspoons of chocolate powd
er. Jack was sitting at the kitchen table, drawing. She put the cup down beside him and he looked up and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
Susan set her own cup of coffee on the table and sat down opposite him. It was the day after their cow adventure and Susan finally felt confident enough to talk to Michael. But there was another conversation she needed to have first. ‘What are you drawing?’ she asked. Normally he drew animals, and of late Christmas trees and snowmen. This time there were three people in the picture.
Jack’s face was happy as he looked across the table at her. Despite the upheaval, he seemed the same as he always had. She loved him so much that it was almost like a physical pain. He pushed the paper towards her. ‘It’s you and me and Daddy,’ he said.
Susan took the picture. The smallest figure, presumably Jack himself, was hand in hand with the short-haired adult figure which must be Michael. Jack had drawn Susan herself with long hair. All of them were smiling. She felt a strange pang. This was a picture of what she had wanted, once upon a time. ‘Have you enjoyed seeing Daddy?’ she asked him, handing the picture back.
She watched his expression. His answer was important; really it was the crux of the issue. If Jack wanted to see Michael, then it was up to her to handle the situation. She needed to talk to Michael. That much she had worked out. But how the conversation would go was partly up to Jack.
‘Do you like Daddy?’ His question took her by surprise, though it shouldn’t have, she thought. Jack was a sensitive boy. The last time they’d seen Michael, it had ended in a blazing row and Susan and Jack walking out. It had somehow ended up being all about her and Michael, and not about Jack at all.
