Susan Lewis - One Minute Later

Jack still enjoyed teasing Shelley about her horrified disbelief that he’d actually left her to give birth alone that night, when what he’d actually done was dash into the barn for the car, leaving Harry and the girls to deal with Milady’s lazy efforts to rid herself of twins. Sadly the first one out had perished, causing many tears. However, happiness had been restored when Milady hadn’t shown any interest in becoming a mother to the second arrival, so Zoe had taken on the role. Meantime, Jack was delivering Josh in the car halfway down the drive with the nearest phone box more than two miles away (if it was working and it usually wasn’t); and since they were still on their own land there had been no chance of passing traffic to come to the rescue. In the end, with the newborn in Shelley’s arms, he’d driven to hospital at breakneck speed in order to get mother and child separated, cleaned up and checked over. An hour later all three had been on their way home again.

Jack had felt very proud of himself that day, and Josh never tired of hearing the story of how his daddy had single-handedly brought him into the world, as though Jack were some sort of magician who didn’t bother with rabbits and hats, because babies out of mummies was much more impressive, especially when that baby was him.

‘Daddy!’ Zoe shouted from somewhere. ‘Milady’s dragging me … Stop! I said stop ! Daddy! Help!’

Laughing, Jack went to the rescue, and when he realized that Milady was trying to make a beeline for Roger, the ram who’d come to service the ewes these past two years, he was helpless with mirth as he tried to drag her back on track.

‘It’s not funny,’ Zoe complained. ‘She’s naughty. You’re a very bad girl, Milady. Dodgy should be here,’ she told her father. ‘He never takes any nonsense from her.’ Dodgy was in fact Dodgy Two, who’d come to join them fresh from training, after the original Dodgy had gone to round up sheep angels earlier in the year. By then dear old Dodgy had lost all sense of time and purpose, often chasing in the small flock only minutes after Jack or Shelley had let them out, or circling hikers who came along the public footpath, as though they needed sorting out too. Jack had wept for days after sending the beloved old collie off to new pastures, and Shelley had been no comfort for she’d been beside herself too.

‘We shouldn’t be farmers,’ she often declared, ‘we love animals too much.’ And we’re not even close to making enough money to live on, she never added, for it didn’t seem anywhere near as important as how happy they all were.

In truth, if it weren’t for Jack’s income from his three days a week as a vet, added to the small rent they received from Giles and other neighbours for thirty of their seventy-five acres, and the meagre government subsidies, they wouldn’t be managing at all. Buying and selling sheep, rearing and grazing them, shearing them, and sending them for slaughter in September usually left them with a grand total of next to nothing at the end of each year. The bright side of that, of course, was that they never had to pay any tax.

Throughout the frenetic and frequently hilarious day full of morris dancing, showjumping, local bands playing, and assorted auctions, they shopped the various food stalls, and stopped to chat with the many friends they’d made since moving to the area. By the end Milady had won runner-up at Best in Show, Hanna had howled in justified fury when some contemptible toff had stubbed a cigarette out on her cress creation, and Josh had struck a deal with Terry Yarwood, a local farmer, two piglets for the price of one. So now Steven would have Willy Wonka and Charlie Bucket to keep him company. No Alan in sight.

‘We should call your dad on the way home,’ Shelley said, as they piled children and animals back into cars and trailers. ‘He’ll be wanting to know what time to expect us.’

‘If he’s still out on the road selling eggs,’ Jack replied, ‘we won’t get hold of him, but you’re right, we should try.’ Ever since Jack’s mother had suddenly passed two years ago his father, David, had virtually moved in with them, which Shelley didn’t mind at all. He was as helpful and easy-going as her own father, and it was a big relief to Jack and Nate to know that he wasn’t grieving silently at home on his own in London. Moreover, his passion for growing vegetables was starting to come into its own, for they’d lately begun selling spring onions, cabbages and carrots along with eggs and home-made jams at the end of the drive. And if things carried on the way they were, David’s green-fingered talents were likely to earn him an occasional stall at the Saturday farmers’ market in Kesterly.

With everyone on board, Josh travelling with his aunt and uncle this time in order to be close to Wonka and Bucket, they set off down the track towards the main road where they stopped at the first phone box they found. Discovering they only had one 10p coin between them, Jack dialled the number and started the conversation with his father,

‘Everything all right there? Quick, before the money runs out.’

‘Just made myself a fortune of six pounds and forty-two p,’ David replied cheerfully, ‘and I was about to go and feed the chickens. What time shall I expect you?’

‘In about an hour. Two piglets on board. Did the plumber come to find out why the water’s not getting through to the sheep trough?’

‘Yes, apparently there was a leak about ten yards out, but he’s fixed it, so no bucket line tomorrow. Tell Shelley I thought I’d make a salad for tea that we can eat outside with the weather being so nice. The lettuces are lovely and crisp and the early-ripened tomatoes are as sweet as peaches. I made some bread, tell her, and I was thinking about baking a cake but then I thought you might have bought one.’

‘Try six,’ Jack responded wryly. ‘We’ve also got a mountain of cheese, a ton of different pâtés, half a Wiltshire ham and that’s just for starters. Nate wants to know if Perry’s all right?’ he added, referring to his brother’s two-year-old son, who loved nothing more than being number one assistant to his grandpa.

‘Fast asleep on the dog’s sofa,’ David replied. ‘The dog’s on the floor. Oh, before I forget, Giles came over. He seemed a bit worried about something. He wants you to call when you get back.’

‘Did he mention what it was?’ Jack asked curiously.

‘No. I thought maybe he needed a vet, but that’s not what he said.’

‘OK, I’ll try him now, and if I don’t get an answer …’ He broke off as the pips went and, remembering he didn’t have any more coins, he pushed open the heavy door and returned to the car.

‘Mm,’ Shelley muttered after he told her that Giles wanted them to be in touch.

Jack glanced at her, puzzled, until, realizing she didn’t want to say anything in front of the children, he put the car back in gear and started up a lively rendition of ‘One Man Went to Mow’ as they continued the drive home.

Something was wrong. He could feel it now; Shelley had just got there before him.

By the time they turned into the dirt track that wound through many fields and a bluebell wood to Deerwood Farm the girls were half asleep in the back, but Shelley still didn’t voice her concerns about Giles’s visit. Instead she kept them to herself, hoping she was wrong, and gazed around at their undulating patchwork of fields that stretched in both directions as far as the eye could see. Some were dotted with fat, woolly sheep and their fast-growing lambs, while many of the gates between hedges were wide open to allow them to roam freely. She and Jack had worked harder than they ever had since coming here, and she was more than happy to know that they would continue to. Even the winter months were fulfilling in their way, especially when the lambing season got going for there was something truly exhilarating about helping their ewes to bring new little creatures into the world. It seemed to bond the family even tighter together and make the daft and lovable flock even more a part of it as time passed.