Susan Lewis - One Minute Later

They had no clear idea yet of how they were going to liven up the interior while carefully retaining its gentle and noble character, but it would include doubling the size of the kitchen, knocking two sitting rooms into one and installing at least three more bathrooms. She wanted the place to feel as happy with them as they did with it, as respected as it was cherished, and as proud as it deserved to be. She’d thought about engaging an interior designer, but it was a luxury they couldn’t afford, and besides, it didn’t feel right for an outsider to put his or her stamp on a home that was so intrinsically theirs. Somehow she was going to do this herself, using magazines for ideas and builders with skill and imagination for execution.

Meanwhile, they needed a temporary solution to the leaks and draughts, and a brand-new generator so they could quietly and tenderly release the old boy from its struggle to help them get settled.

‘Back aching?’ a voice behind her asked.

She turned to find her father coming out of the barn where he’d been watching over the pregnant ewes while the two grandmothers did a supermarket shop in town. Nathan and Katya, Jack’s brother and sister-in-law, were out walking the land with the girls, nature spotting and gathering sticks for the fire. Jack was being a vet this afternoon, and Giles and his men who were so often around seemed absent for the moment.

Resting her head on her father’s shoulder as he put an arm around her, she inhaled deeply the sweet scent of haylage that clung to his clothes. Giles had sent over the mix, because he knew their requirements long before they did and he was always willing to give supplies, advice and support (at a small charge).

‘Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts,’ her father teased as he too drank in the farmhouse’s serenity and soul-nourishment.

‘Definitely not,’ she replied. ‘OK, I realize it’s going to take years and a small fortune to get it into shape and that we’ll probably never have any money to speak of, but we will have a home and what better one could we wish for than this?’

Her father squeezed her gently. ‘Sarah knew what she was doing when she made sure this place went to you and Jack.’

Later that evening as they gathered round the old kitchen table with a fire roaring in the hearth and the Aga doing its stuttering best, Shelley’s mother waited for dinner to be over before setting down a battered cardboard box. Keeping a hand on the lid she looked first at Shelley, then at Jack.

Shelley regarded her curiously, sensing that her full attention was required for this, whatever it was, and when Patty was satisfied all eyes were on her she carefully opened the box. ‘I found these in the chest in our bedroom,’ she explained, lifting out something heavy wrapped in limp and faded tissue paper. ‘I reckon Bob must have put them away after Sarah went because they were painful for him to look at. Do you remember these?’ she asked her husband.

Shelley winced at the clench of a Braxton Hicks contraction as everyone watched her mother unwrap two bronze statuettes, each about ten inches high, and set them facing each other on the table. They were exquisitely crafted, seeming to move with each other, hands outstretched, hips slightly turned, feet partly raised. The male was in a sharp, baggy suit, a trilby tipped back on his head, his arms raised in rhythm before he spun his partner into the dance. She was wearing a flapper dress, the fringes seeming to sway as she started the turn, the fingers of her right hand appearing to yearn for his touch. There exuded such a profound feeling of romance and togetherness that Shelley found her eyes going to Jack as his came to her.

‘They were given to Sarah’s grandparents as a wedding gift,’ Shelley’s mother told them. ‘Sarah treasured them above anything. I think, I know , that she’d want you to display them again.’

Shelley smiled as Jack, the old romantic, got to his feet and hummed softly as he pulled her to hers.

‘You’re like the dancers coming to life,’ Hanna declared, catching on delightedly.

Jack winked at her and moved Shelley into his arms, while her eyes returned to the bronzes. They felt special even beyond their probable value, and she knew that her mother felt it too. It was as though they had come straight from her aunt’s heart, with love and gratitude for taking the place on. And they would always be here, a symbol of how important it was to move in step with one another, to love and dance and never forget how precious life was.

The visiting family had gone to stay in town tonight, taking a luxury B & B break from the hard floors and dripping ceilings of the east-wing bedrooms. Though Hanna and Zoe’s room didn’t leak, and had proper beds with feathery duvets and pillows, even a thin trail of heating, Jack and Shelley had thought it might be a nice treat for them to go too. However, there had been no moving them. Lambs were on the way and they knew very well that it would happen tonight if they weren’t there.

They weren’t wrong.

The first excited shout went up around 2 a.m., carrying through the wind like a bird, waking Jack and Shelley and setting them scrambling for matches to light the candles when the lamp switches clicked uselessly. It was Harry, Giles’s second son, letting them know that one of the ewes had gone into labour.

‘The girls,’ Shelley panted, tugging on her voluminous jeans and one of Jack’s sweaters.

‘I’ll get them,’ he said, stuffing his feet into old trainers and rushing from the room.

‘No, I will,’ she insisted. ‘You go and see if Harry needs help.’

The girls were already on the landing in nighties and slippers, and tugging on the coats they’d kept next to their beds for just this moment. ‘We heard Harry,’ Zoe shrieked eagerly. ‘Are the lambs here?’

‘About to be,’ Jack promised, scooping her up. ‘Come on, let’s go and see.’

‘Can I name him?’ Hanna asked, running after them.

‘If it’s a girl,’ Jack reminded her.

‘I’m naming him if it’s a boy,’ Zoe said over his shoulder to make sure Hanna heard.

‘What if it’s twins?’ Hanna asked. ‘I hope it’s twins. Daddy, you’re going too fast, I can’t see.’

‘Climb on board,’ he instructed, pausing for her to jump onto his back.

Shelley could just about make them out at the bottom of the stairs as she started down with a precariously balanced candle.

Jack was lighting a paraffin lamp. ‘Is everyone OK?’ he demanded as a weak amber glow lit the hall. ‘Are you all here?’

‘We’re here,’ the girls chorused.

‘Me too,’ Shelley called out.

He was at the door, tugging it open. A spirited wind hurled across the yard, pushing him back. He battled through it. The girls cowered into his neck, shielding their faces from the silvery spikes of rain.

From the front door Shelley shouted, ‘Jack!’

Harry appeared at the barn door. ‘Bit of trouble,’ he shouted. ‘Tried fishing it out myself, but you’d better come.’

‘Jack!’ Shelley yelled again.

‘Is it going to be all right?’ Zoe panicked.

‘You won’t let it die, will you, Daddy?’ Hanna wailed.

‘ Jack! ’ Shelley all but screamed.

At last he caught her voice and turned round.

‘My waters have broken,’ she yelled above the storm.

His eyes rounded in the moonlight, as driving rain whipped into his face and gusts tore at his hair.

‘We have to get to the lamb,’ Hanna cried, digging in her heels to make him go faster.

Shelley watched them, clutching the door frame as the first contraction bit down hard.

Jack seemed frozen.

Harry shouted again.

Hanna was pointing to the barn and yelling.