Bev’s plan is that each of our visitors takes an animal to look after during their walk. When we have the three alpacas on halters, I hand them over to the sturdiest looking blokes, with strict instructions to hang on to them. Given their head, those tinkers will run and run. Then we take the little ponies which Lucas has brought down from the field. They’re generally the most compliant and are always popular with youngsters, so they are given to the more youthful visitors to walk. Lucas also brings out a selection of our smaller, happier sheep which aren’t too skittish – Teddy with the cuddly coat, Midnight with the black fleece and Baa-bara with the pretty face. Anthony the Anti-Social Sheep is deemed to be too much of a health risk to be allowed on what is intended to be a calming walk, even though he is eyeing up Baa-bara longingly. We harness the donkeys, Harriet and Hilda, too. This will be their first trial and, as they are usually extremely gentle, I have high hopes for them. Finally, we take two of the pygmy goats – Laurel and Hardy – who like any excuse to be out and about in the fields.
Eventually, when everyone has an animal to walk, we set off across the fields with Little Dog, Big Dog and Betty Bad Dog (fingers crossed that she’s channelling Betty Good Girl today). Pet lamb, Fifty, joins us too. He won’t go on a harness – he generally won’t do anything we want him to do – but is quite happy to wander after us. As we go, we become a little band of merriment, and there’s much chatter and laughter, which is nice to see. Bev looks over at me and grins. It is an I-told-you-so grin. I know that it won’t magically solve the problems they’re facing, but I like to think walking in the countryside with an alpaca, tiny goat or cheerful sheep on a regular basis might make those suffering feel just a little bit brighter for a short while.
It’s a beautiful if cold day, but we take our time walking out across the fields and down along the river. We circle the pond and, as usual, the alpacas like to have a dip. Tina Turner paddles at the edges, but Johnny Rotten ploughs straight into the middle and lies down – nearly taking his handler with him. It’s only a swift intervention from Lucas that prevents an unexpected dunking. But that’s our only near-miss, everything else goes unnervingly smoothly. The donkeys are impeccably behaved. Betty Bad Dog only wees on fence posts and hedgerows rather than on expensive shoes. The visitors really enjoy their time and it does, to my utmost relief, go without a hitch.
Bev high-fives me as we get back to the yard. ‘You can breathe again now.’
She’s not wrong. I think I have been holding my breath most of the way round and am in desperate need of a restorative cup of tea. But the session could definitely be classed as an unmitigated success, and I hope that they’ll book another one soon as it was a joy to have them here and will also bring in some most welcome funds. After last night’s argument it makes me even more determined not to be reliant for Shelby on our funding.
‘That went well,’ Lucas says as he brings Johnny Rotten to a halt beside me.
‘Yes. Thanks for your help.’ He seems to be in a much better humour – I even noticed him talking to a young man of a similar age on the way round, which was nice.
‘I’ll take the ponies back up to the field.’
‘Thanks, Lucas.’ I squeeze his skinny shoulders and he doesn’t shrug me off.
He grabs all of their leads and they trot after him.
After I’ve watched him go, I turn my attention to the visitors. I’m just helping them put their animals back into their pens when I see Shelby’s Bentley pull into the farmyard. I swear to you that my heart skips a beat.
‘Can you take over, Bev?’ I ask.
‘No problem.’ She takes Laurel’s lead from my hand and ushers him into his pen.
As always, Shelby looks very debonair as he steps out of the car – every inch the television star. He’s dressed very smartly in a grey sweater and jeans. And – ahem – new shoes. I check, anxiously, to see if Betty Bad Dog is in the vicinity, but she’s not. I’m also relieved to see that he grabs a huge bunch of red roses from the back seat of his car. This must be Shelby in conciliatory mood. I leave the visitors with Bev, cleanse my hands and head towards him.
‘I’m an idiot,’ he says as I approach.
I go to open my mouth.
‘Don’t disagree,’ he says. ‘I am.’
‘Actually, I was going to agree with you.’
He gives me one of his heart-breaking smiles and holds out his roses. I take them from him with a sigh. He gives me puppy-dog eyes. ‘Does that mean I’m forgiven?’
‘You were out of order last night,’ I remind him. ‘I’m not sure that two dozen utterly beautiful roses are enough. There was no need for you to carry on as you did.’
‘I know. I’ve come with my heart in my hand to apologise.’
‘You can’t pack your case and stomp off just because things don’t go your way.’
‘I behaved like a child,’ he says. ‘Let me take you to dinner. We need some time by ourselves, away from this place, the animals, Lucas.’
He knows how difficult this is for me, but I can’t have it all my own way either. Relationships are about compromise. Having lived alone for so long, I need to keep reminding myself of this.
‘Yes. That would be nice.’
‘I’ll book somewhere special.’
I’d really rather go to the local pub and hide in the corner, away from the prying eyes and head swivellers that invariably accompany Shelby wherever he goes. But I have to meet him halfway. ‘Perfect.’
‘Where’s Lucas?’
‘Up in the field with the ponies. We’ve just had a group of walkers from a mental health charity.’
‘I thought you looked busy.’
‘It was a great success and some welcome funds too.’
‘I’ve got to head to the studio. I’ll see you later.’
‘You don’t want to speak to Lucas?’
He looks down at his brand new, expensive shoes, his immaculate jeans. ‘I’ll catch him another time.’
‘We could all go out together tonight,’ I venture. ‘A curry or something?’
‘I don’t think that would work,’ Shelby says. ‘Lucas makes it very clear that he doesn’t want me around.’
‘He does. You simply have to treat him with kid gloves.’
Shelby sighs. ‘And when does that stop? When does he accept that I’m not perfect and I’m allowed to make mistakes?’
‘In time,’ I tell him. ‘Just be patient.’
‘I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock.’
‘Can we make it a bit later?’ I ask, hesitantly. ‘I’ve got the animals to feed.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Shelby says. ‘The animals. Always the animals.’
‘They can’t order a takeaway.’ It comes out more crisply than I’d intended. ‘I’ll be ready as soon as I can.’
‘Seven-thirty,’ he says and kisses my cheek briefly before he returns to his shiny car.
I watch him drive away and clutch the roses to my chest.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Big gesture,’ Lucas says when he sees the rather large bouquet of roses in my rather small vase.