I feed the boys first and then the girls, wandering amongst them and dispersing buckets as I go. Mum likes to feed each animal separately to make sure they all get their fair share. It’s a bit of a hassle, but they’re so low maintenance generally that it feels like the least we can do.
Bellflower is more interested in playing with Bramble than eating. I pause, staring at them.
‘You’re very deep in thought.’
The sight of George, hanging over the drystone wall, makes me jolt. He has a slight sheen on his brow and his long-sleeved checked shirt is rolled up to his elbows, revealing a light coating of sawdust on the brown hairs of his muscled forearms.
‘I’m wondering why Bramble is so much bigger than Bellflower.’
‘Is she pregnant?’
‘She can’t be. I mean, we tried to mate her last month, but she wasn’t having any of it.’
George raises an eyebrow.
‘They spit if they’re not interested,’ I explain.
He looks amused. ‘That’s one way of saying “no”, I suppose.’
Alpacas can fall pregnant at any time of year, but we mate ours in July so they’re born the following June when their mothers will have had the benefit of feeding on lots of lovely spring grass.
‘They also spit if they’re already expecting,’ I say. ‘But I don’t understand how she could have mated. She looks about six months gone.’
‘Could she have escaped?’
‘They have been known to get out via the field gate if someone has left it open – tourists sometimes stray from the footpaths. But that doesn’t explain how she got into the boys’ paddock.’
‘One of the drystone walls did have a weak point…’ George says thoughtfully.
I remember Jamie saying that now. ‘In the boys’ paddock?’
He nods. ‘I helped to rebuild it.’
‘Did you?’ I ask with surprise. I really hope my mum is paying him well. ‘Goodness me,’ I murmur, reaching out to stroke Bramble’s super-soft neck. ‘Have you been looking for love?’
Her big dark eyes stare back at me unwaveringly.
‘I guess we’ll find out who the lucky boy was in a few months.’
‘How will you tell?’
‘The cria often take on characteristics of the father.’
I start to gather up empty buckets. George comes through the gate to lend a hand. I don’t resist his help, even though I can manage on my own.
‘Have you finished chopping back the dead wood?’ I nod towards the horse chestnut.
‘Yep. I still need to clear it, but I’ll come back tomorrow to do that.’
‘I hope you’re keeping an accurate log of your hours.’
He doesn’t reply.
‘George?’
He shakes his head, setting off down the hill. ‘I don’t want payment for this.’
My mouth falls open as I hurry after him. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. You are absolutely getting paid. You’ve been paid for the work you’ve done so far, right?’
Again, silence.
‘George!’ I’m horrified. ‘I need to have a word with my mother.’
He looks sheepish. ‘She keeps asking for my bank account details.’
‘Bloody hell! Give them to her.’
‘I make enough at the pub. I want to help.’
‘No. That is completely unacceptable.’ I realise I’m using my ‘telling off Emilie’ voice and check myself. ‘You didn’t do all that training for nothing.’ We reach the barn and return the buckets to the shelf.
‘Do you want to come in for a brew?’ I ask.
‘I’ve got a shift at the pub,’ he replies reluctantly. He stares down at me for a long moment. ‘Are you up to anything tomorrow night?’
‘No. Why?’
‘I’ve got the evening off. Maybe we could catch up.’
‘That would be nice,’ I say with a smile.
* * *
Later I beat myself up about how easily I agreed to spend a whole evening with him. But the truth is, I’m lonely and craving adult company, even more so after my night out with Becky. I’ve spent the last two years giving Emilie almost a hundred per cent of my attention. Is it so awful that I want to spend time with my old friends? With George?
However much I rationalise it, I can’t shake my feelings of guilt. I hope Theo will forgive me.
Chapter 18 Then
‘Seriously, feel how soft it is.’ I offer a big handful of snowy white fibre to Theo. ‘It’s like cuddling cloud.’
He takes it from me dubiously and his dark eyebrows shoot up. ‘It really is.’
It’s weird having Theo here without George. Dad has taken George to visit his dad in prison, but I didn’t realise that was happening when I invited Theo over to work on our art projects. We’re studying portraits. Theo is sketching me, I’m supposed to be drawing George and George was supposed to be doing Theo, but before George left this morning, he said Theo and I should just draw each other instead. He said he’d ask Jamie to sit for him when he got home.
I didn’t like seeing George so subdued. He was surprisingly upbeat when we returned to the farm yesterday for Anita and Ollie’s visit. We stayed in the kitchen for most of it, drawing pictures with Ashlee and letting her go between us and Mum and Nia, who were in the living room.
I liked Anita and Ollie, despite everything. To my surprise, Ashlee seemed to like them too. She’s normally very shy around new people, but she was keen to show them her artwork.
It was completely obvious what we were doing, Mum said afterwards, but she didn’t think that was a bad thing. ‘It’ll give them something to think about,’ she said with certainty, while waving brightly as their car drove off down the lane.
Ashlee’s social worker plans to get in touch with them on Monday. We’ll have to wait and see if anything comes of it.
* * *
It’s a dazzling sunny day and the thought of sitting inside at the dining room table doesn’t appeal to either Theo or me, so we’ve decided to walk up to Brimham Rocks.
Mistletoe comes up to Theo as we make our way through the girls’ paddock.
‘Hello,’ he says.
Her dark eyes stare at him inquisitively and her ears flick backwards before coming forward again. She cranes her long neck towards him and sniffs. He reaches out to pat her and she jerks away, trotting off towards Marigold.
‘They were born last year,’ I tell him. ‘It was Marigold’s fleece that you felt earlier. That’s her there. And that’s her mum,’ I point out Ivy.
As if sensing we’re talking about her, Ivy wanders over, coming right up close to Theo’s face. He doesn’t even flinch. Tentatively he reaches out. Ivy sniffs his face and makes a small humming noise. Theo’s hand connects with her neck and a smile tilts the corner of his lips.
I’m kind of astonished. ‘She doesn’t normally let strangers anywhere near her.’
‘She can probably sense that I like animals more than I do people.’
‘Maybe you should do Ivy’s portrait,’ I joke.