by Klaire, Jody
“Walk on.” The collie drove the sheep toward her. She grinned, sheep-herding pro, oh yeah.
“Might want to turn them,” Doug said, a smile on his face.
“Away,” she said, firm, clear.
The collie turned the pack... the wrong way.
“What, no, come-by, come-by!”
The collie darted to the other side. The sheep split and ran straight at her.
She dodged. So did the sheep. The same way. They clattered into her legs. She lurched forward, planted her foot to right herself. It slid.
Ah shit.
Splat.
She crashed onto her backside.
“Come by!” she screamed at the collie, clambering to her feet. Her temper had flicked on but she didn’t care. The sheep were being herded.
The collie sprinted at the sheep, who’d congregated into a flock again. They bolted for it, hurtled to the gate.
“Walk on,” she said, ignoring the breeze hitting her soggy backside.
The collie slowed. The sheep slowed to a trot
“Away,” she said in her best attempt at Doug’s accent.
Doug laughed. “Sounds more like Geordie.”
“Close enough.” She shot him a cheeky grin as he scowled.
Stephanie and Fabrice held onto each other as the sheep trotted through the gate. Phew.
“Walk on,” she said, steering them toward the bridge. She could do this. Okay, Stephanie hadn’t gotten covered in crap but she wasn’t as fast either, hah.
“Walk on.” Her voice rose with her nerves. The collie sped up. The sheep broke into a trot.
“Wait, no, lie down,” she snapped.
He did. The sheep trotted onto the bridge... and stopped. She glared at them and threw her hands in the air.
“Walk on,” she shot at the collie. He darted at the bridge but the sheep remained marooned.
“Oh, come on!” She waved her stick in the air. The sheep stared at her, one still chomping on grass. “Move it!”
It chomped away, vacant expression. She stormed over to the bridge and shook her stick at it as the collie barked. “You want to see me angry?”
The sheep stared back, chomping. The collie darted around to the other side of the bridge and she waved her stick, she’d shove them off if she had to.
“Come on, sheep. Walk on!” Her furious tone ripped through the air.
The collie growled and shot toward the bridge. The sheep turned, bolted... straight at her.
She dived out of the way, stick discarded, as sheep spilled out in all directions. Both collies gave chase as the sheep scattered, some darting toward the farmhouse.
Rebecca pulled her chest out of the mud and glared up at Doug’s offered hand.
“Maybe we need to get you a shower before dinner?” He said with a good natured smile and a hearty chuckle.
She wobbled to her feet—mud made her coat heavy—So much for waterproof. She could feel the breeze through her sopping clothes.
Babs would be allergic to her for weeks. “The sheep are flipping French.”
Stephanie raised her eyebrows as Fabrice hurried after the collies.
“They are,” she grunted. “They’ve got the French flag tucked in their wool.” She flicked the mud off her arms. “They heard your accent and were happy to help.” She shook her fist at them. “Traitors.”
“Nothing to do with you then,” Doug said as they walked. He and Stephanie strode ahead, most likely to keep her downwind.
“No. Even the collies are listening to Fabrice. Look.” She scowled as Fabrice had the sheep and collies all calm and walking in a nice orderly line toward the gate.
“Maybe because he’s calmer?” Doug asked. “Would you go swearing at a golf club?”
She glared at him.
“Probably better you don’t answer that,” he mumbled, covering his mouth with his hand.
Like she couldn’t see his eyes twinkling or Stephanie’s shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Not competitive at all, are you?” he said, holding out his hand as they reached the gate. Stephanie beamed at him, took his hand and hopped over the ditch; Fabrice rolled his eyes, curtseyed at Doug then jumped over without a problem.
Doug burst into hearty laughter and Stephanie wrapped Fabrice up in a squishy hug until he blushed.
Doug held his hand there, smiling at Rebecca. “Will I offend you if I offer you some help?”
“Yes,” she snapped.
“Rebecca, it’s deep and wide and with the weight—”
Rebecca tried to leap over it. Her heavy, water filled Wellie came off. She clattered into the other side, her Wellie-clad foot slid.
Splash.
One drenched foot, sock and trouser.
“Rebecca,” Doug said between fits of laughter. “Let me help you—”
She shoved herself up and leapt at the side. Her other Wellie got stuck in the mud and water. She lurched forward.
Splosh.
Straight in, face first.
“Fancied a dip?” Doug asked, howling with laughter.
She glared up at him and the guffawing French contingent. She looked down at herself, up at Doug who had tears in his eyes; at Stephanie and Fabrice who were bent double, clinging onto each other; at the collies who eyed her like they knew she was crazy and to the sheep nearest to her.
“French, that’s what you are, French,” she muttered.
It chewed on its grass and bleated.
She scowled at it.
It sounded like sheep for oui.
Chapter 41
Berne and Babs stayed with us all week and the roof got fixed with a lot of charm from Babs. Although we worked hard on the house, I did manage to give Berne mini-tours of the area—in between being dragged to wedding rehearsals by Doug at the golf club; keeping an eye on Gwen and Fabrice who had a twinkle for each other and listening to Rebecca mutter on under her breath.
“Sheep had La Marseillaise stamped on their ass,” she’d grunt if Stephanie, Doug or Fabrice walked past. She’d muttered about there being some kind of Welsh-French loyalty.
I had no idea what it was about but thought it better not to ask especially when she saw Doug and grunted, “I had a dud collie. Rusty? He was named well. What kind of mutt...?”
Doug had chuckled at her, Stephanie and Fabrice did a lot too. I carried on working, trying to ignore it and the fact that Berne was back in France.
“So, did Babs tell you where she was going this time?” I asked as Rebecca wandered in to get another box of tiles.
She looked through the doorway and shot a glare at Stephanie as she came down the stairs with an empty tub, plaster remnants moulded to the side.
“No, just that it was for her project. She needed some adjustments or something.” She shrugged, poking her tongue out at Stephanie who giggled.
Stephanie and Fabrice were powering ahead. Most of the inside was done, now they just had to finish the outside.
“You sound happy about it,” I said, dodging around our electrician who’d started his second fix on the downstairs rooms. Plugs, switches and ceiling roses were stacked up, waiting to be attached.
“It’s Babs. She tells me about as much as you do.” She ducked under the frame that the glaziers were carrying in. Shiny new glass panels: check. I’d have preferred to keep the original ones but every single one had been damaged. The best we could do was make the definition clear between old and new.
“And, why is the redhead out?” I asked. Grump was in session.
She sighed. “The golf game.” She put down the box of tiles and folded her tattooed arms. “I haven’t played enough to be competition for him.”
“The point is to meet him on neutral ground and give you the chance to talk.” I hoped it sounded appeasing because I wanted her to win and, if possible, win in style just to prove a point. I knew she could.
“A golf course is no place to tell him how happy I am.” She scowled at me, blue eyes glinting with her temper.
“Yes, you are the picture of joy.” I shook my head and put down my screwdriver. I was supposed to be building a bookcase and not one of the flat-pack ones which took half an hour if you followed the instructions. No, this was a floor-to-ceiling one for the library made out of thick reclaimed oak.
The bookcase would have to wait, there was only one option in Rebecca’s mood. “Come on, let’s go dig out the choc ices.”
Rebecca nodded. Not that she ever complained about chocolate but the fact she looked ready to attack the electrician meant she needed it.
“Gwen, do you want anything?” I called up the split staircase then sighed. Why was I bothering? She’d have her MP3 in, working hard, or be chatting to Fabrice in Spanish. Teenagers, what could you do with them?
I shrugged at Rebecca who was glaring at the newly painted entrance hall. Like the Frenchies, Gwen was steaming ahead.
I took Rebecca’s hand and dragged her out of the front door. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the bright light. The light in France seemed to be more yellowy and less hard on my eyes but in Britain it was a whiter light. It made my eyes water.
My vision cleared and I spotted Stephanie mixing more plaster for upstairs. Doug stood chatting to her, a daft grin on his face.
“He’ll get huffy if you mess up his clothes,” I called out, hoping it would cut over Rebecca’s renewed muttering about sheep.
Stephanie jumped, dropped the bucket with a startled “ooh,” plaster flew up from it... and onto Doug’s shoes.
Oops. I tensed. Rebecca sucked in a breath. Doug’s brow dipped. Stephanie met his eyes.
I gripped Rebecca’s hand. We both flinched. Oh dear.
He laughed.
Huh?
Stephanie beamed up at him. “Pardon, I—”
“It’s okay,” he said with a smile. “It’s just leather.”
They both bent to rub at his shoe, colliding heads.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” His eyes were wide with alarm.
Stephanie giggled. “You assault me?” She tutted at him. “You are attached to this leather, oui?” She knelt down, rubbed her forehead then pulled out a rag and wiped off his shoe.
Doug held out his hand to help her up, a big daft grin on his face.
Rebecca and I stared at each other.
“Just leather?” Rebecca mouthed.
I shook my head, turning to Doug and Stephanie who were chuckling. “What has Marie done to you?”
I tried not to be too disgruntled. He’d have yelled at me for that.
“Pippa isn’t happy that I used to be more particular about things,” he told Stephanie, rubbing at his own forehead.
“Used to be?” I put my hands on my hips. “I once got chocolate on his jumper and he pouted for a week.”
Stephanie’s eyes twinkled with her laugh. “Non?”
He shrugged. “It’s how I cope with stress. I can’t help it.”
“And you aren’t stressed now?” Rebecca folded her arms. “You’re having a baby, moving house and getting married... and none of that stresses you?”
“I’m aware of that.” He smiled at us both like we were sweet but very dense children. “I’m happy about it.”
I turned to Rebecca. “He’s lost it. I’m going for ice cream.”
She nodded. “Next he’ll be saying he’s taken the week off to help.”
“I have.” He smiled as we stared at him. “I’m helping Stephanie and Fabrice.”
“You’ve taken a week off?” I think I needed to sit down, or maybe lie down, or maybe go back in the house and shake off the hallucination. It had to be an hallucination.
“I used to work a lot,” Doug said to Stephanie.
“Used to?” Rebecca mumbled.
“Week off,” I could just about manage.
“When did you hit your head?” Rebecca asked him, folding her arms.
“And how many times?” Did I need to fill in the accident book? How hard was Stephanie’s head?
Stephanie burst into laughter. “I think they are a little... confused... oui?”
Doug nodded, eyes twinkling. “Lack of chocolate will do that to them.”
I turned and walked down the road. Rebecca trudged along beside me in stunned silence. The rolling lawns buzzed with those ride-on mowers and trimmers. I waved to the landscaper and his team who were planting trees either side of the road. In the distance, you could see the hills. Somewhere beyond them was Gloucester. There was a busy A-road nestled in amongst the lush green trees but you’d never know it. It was quiet, tranquil.
The clouds floated across, grey but some white puffs. The sunshine broke through in parts, creating strips of light, highlighting areas and bathing them with a gentle glow.
“I think Marie hit him over the head, that’s what it is,” I mumbled, rubbing the paint off my hands. I hadn’t been anywhere near a paintbrush and I had it all over me.
How?
“I just think he has a soft spot for Stephanie, you know.” Rebecca paused for a moment and soaked in the scenery. She took a long, slow breath. “I think the feeling is mutual.”
I had to agree. Doug was never that jolly. I wandered down the road, once again thankful that we’d never gotten married. He’d never been that happy with me. I’d never made him laugh the way she did.
“We can’t let him marry Marie. He really likes Stephanie. They have that spark, that glimmer of something,” I whispered.
“Pip, it’s not our place.” She smiled at the man repaving the section at the bottom of the road which led to the converted stables. “They flirt, why not? They’re attractive.” She stepped onto the grass to avoid the freshly laid slate walkway with a purple shimmer to it. “Stephanie isn’t the kind of woman who would break up an engagement knowing he was having a baby.” She glanced at me. “I think.”
“But don’t you feel that Stephanie is right for him?” I asked as we crunched over the gravel to the front door. “I think she’s good for him.”
Rebecca nodded, pulling out her key. “We need to find out if Marie is really pregnant.” She opened the heavy wooden door and frowned. “I mean, why haven’t we seen her?”
I chewed on my lip. “You don’t think he’s marrying Brandy and just doesn’t want to say?” I stooped down to untie my boots and flicked them off, enjoying the feel of the wood floor through my socks.
“It’s Doug. Would he do all this just because a child could be his?” She took her boots off and wiggled her toes in her socks.
“I don’t know.” I slumped onto a stool at the kitchen counter. “Maybe Marie is just really busy and can’t afford the time off until the baby arrives or something?” I picked at the paint on my hands. “Babs and Berne are always busy. We’d probably have to organise our own weddings too.” I frowned. “Well, you’d have to...”
Had I just said the W word? What?
I held up my hand before she could answer. “Anyway, Doug is always shooting off somewhere. Maybe it’s to see her.”
Rebecca pulled out two choc-ices from the freezer. “Guess so. Maybe we can get him hammered and extract the truth?”
I grinned, taking my choc-ice. British summertime had gone from gales to warm enough for lollies. I just hoped it didn’t decide to go for a heatwave. In France, the heat was fine. There was proper air-conditioning and their working days accounted for it. In Britain, the heat meant buying fans, hanging out of office windows for air, and hoping for a breeze.
“He did say he wanted his stag do here.” I peeled off my wrapper and looked to Rebecca. She did the same and nodded.
We tucked into our lollies.
“We’ll need chocolate to help our sugar levels,” she mumbled between bites. “Important, when coming up with our plan to get the truth out of Doug.”
I grinned. “In that case, we’ll need more than one.”
Her eyes twinkled. I knew she understood. Some boffins recommended fish to help you think, or salad or something else really healthy. All Rebecca
and I needed was chocolate. A lot of it.
Chapter 42
Doug’s stag do.
I couldn’t say it was a glitzy affair because it wasn’t. It was Rebecca, Stephanie, Doug and I around a table in the communal area. He’d celebrated golfing victories with more oomph. Considering he’d been planning a long holiday with his school friends when we’d been getting married, he’d not even told them about Marie.
“You are actually getting married, aren’t you?” I asked, well, slurred. I’d had two glasses of wine and was slurring? It had to be because I’d been dashing about. Yes, that was it. Not a lightweight but a hard, exhausted worker.
“Of course.” Doug peered at me with one bleary eye. “Why would I have a stag do otherwise?”
“He’s got a point,” Rebecca slurred. Okay, so maybe we’d had more than two glasses. She emptied one sliding it away from her. Maybe we’d had two bottles? “I can tie you up with toilet roll later.”
Stephanie “mmm’d,” bringing over another bottle. I tried to focus on the bottles in the middle. Maybe we’d had more than two bottles? “Do not forget,” she said with a smile. “He has to be naked, oui?”
Rebecca held up her glass with a grin. “Dougie au naturel.”
He wagged his finger, slipping off the counter with his elbow. “Not for ladies’ eyes, thank you.”
Rebecca snorted. “But it’s just fine for blokes to see you?” She swigged at her glass.
“I’ve seen you naked and I’m a lady, I’ll do it,” I raised my glass, clinking it to Stephanie’s bottle.
Rebecca shook her head. “No, no... back to the bloke thing. Is this why you’re hiding Marie, is she really a man?”
He waved it off with a grin.
“I’ve spoken to Marie. She’s definitely female.” I tried to drink my wine only to dip the tip of my nose in it. How? “She’s a flirt.”
Doug nodded. “She is.”
Stephanie tutted. “A woman can be charming without this, non?” She sipped at her wine, eyes twinkling.
