Our blind chicken, Mrs Magoo, is running round aimlessly, flapping her wings in fright. I need to catch hold of her before she does herself some damage.
Mrs Magoo makes a dash towards the gate and I can’t let her get that far, so I hurl myself towards her. At the same time, so does Little Dog and, in a terrible accident of timing, I go flying over him and land full-length in the muddiest of puddles. I lay there in the cold, muddy water that smells of manure, weary down to my bones. If I don’t laugh about this, then I will cry. My late night has left me tired and emotional. This threatens to push me over the edge. Not knowing quite what else to do, I sit myself up in the puddle and let the water seep through my jeans. I might not be able to catch the chickens, but I need to catch my breath. Muddy water drips from my hair. Betty Bad Dog decides to sit in the puddle with me. Her broad smile and waggy tail indicates that one of us is enjoying it rather more than the other.
Right at this moment, a car pulls up at the gate and the mayor gets out. Of course he does.
When he sees me, he leaves his car where it is and climbs over the gate. ‘You look like you could do with some assistance,’ he shouts.
So he comes across to me, picking his way through marauding animals, barely able to supress his smile, and offers his hand.
As I grip onto him, he hauls me from my puddle. ‘Thanks, Matt.’
He regards me with concern. ‘You’re not hurt?’
‘Only my pride.’ I start to brush myself down and then give up. It is beyond brushing. Hosing is more in order.
‘I’ve got this,’ he says and, in a calm and collected manner, he starts to round up the chickens and usher them back towards the waiting coop. ‘Come on, ladies,’ he coos. ‘Calm down.’
I stand and watch with admiration and he works some kind of Dr Dolittle ninja magic on them. He gets the kids to join in and soon my surly bunch of obstreperous humans are giggling away. Hmm.
In case you’re wondering, I do actually help too. I head to the hedge and pick up Mrs Magoo who has ensconced herself there and carry her safely back to her home. Soon, with minimum fuss, the hen house is back in its usual order, all our chicks clucking contentedly. Matt comes out, making sure to close the door securely behind him.
‘There,’ he says. ‘All quiet on the western front.’
‘I don’t know how you did that. I’m very impressed.’
He dusts off his hands. ‘My dad used to call me the chicken whisperer.’
That makes me laugh out loud.
‘I’m serious,’ he says, feigning affront. ‘It’s a much underrated skill.’
‘Well, I for one am very pleased that you have it. I think you’ve earned a cuppa and a piece of cake.’
‘Any other miracles you’d like me to perform before I take my reward?’
‘No, but I’m sure I can find you some more to do afterwards. If you’re planning to stay around.’
‘I’m yours for the day,’ he says.
‘Thank you, Matt.’ I look at this laid-back man, earnestly. ‘That was like the cavalry arriving.’ Or a knight in shining armour.
‘All in a day’s work, ma’am.’ He tips a non-existent hat.
We walk towards the tea room. Before I open the door, I pause and put my hand on his arm. ‘I have to warn you that Bev’s in a bad mood,’ I say. ‘And she might not be as easy to handle as the chickens.’
Chapter Forty
Bev is crashing pots and pans. Thankfully, Jack isn’t helping her today or he’d be terrified. As it is, she’s crashing about purely for her own entertainment.
‘We have company,’ I say to Bev and, for a moment, she lays down her weapons and beams widely at the mayor.
‘Well, hello,’ she says. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure.’
‘I have a rare day off and just dropped by to see how the plans are going for the open day.’
‘Brilliantly,’ Bev says. ‘All under control. Tea?’
‘That would be great.’
She sploshes tea into two mugs for us while I strip off my muddy coat and wash my hands. I put some antiseptic on my scratches and vow to sit the two girls down and finish my talk with them. I’m not letting that drop.
When I’m relatively clean, I slice us some banana bread – still warm – and we take it over to the table. When I sit down I realise that my bottom is still very damp and muddy.
‘It’s not going well,’ I whisper to Matt. ‘Lucas hasn’t written his poem yet and some of the students are refusing to take part. We’re a few short weeks away and I can see no progress. The tree, however, is looking wonderful.’
‘It’ll come good,’ he says. ‘These things have a way of doing that.’
I wish I had Matt’s optimism. As if I haven’t already got enough to do. Christmas does feel like a pain in the bum this year. I’ve bought no presents, nothing. I haven’t had a discussion yet with Shelby about what he wants to do. I’m assuming Lucas will be with us, but what if he wants to spend Christmas with Aurora? When it was simply me and the animals, I never had these dilemmas.
‘I’m quite busy in the run-up to Christmas with official commitments, but I’ll do all that I can to help. I can stay for the rest of the day if that’s any use to you?’
‘I have lots of jobs that you could do, if you don’t mind.’
‘I’ll enjoy it. I like getting my hands dirty and have little chance to do it now.’
‘Oh, I can definitely make sure you’re covered in mud by the time you leave.’ I hold out my hands to indicate the state of me and we both laugh.
‘You have a lot on here,’ he says. ‘I admire what you do.’
‘Keep telling me that,’ I urge. ‘This is one of those days when I could easily jack it all in.’
‘There aren’t enough places like this. If we’re not careful, children like this fall through the cracks. This is a very valuable service you perform.’
‘I like to think so, but I’m not sure all of the kids would agree with you. We try our best, but I worry that some of the students are unreachable.’
‘You can’t save the world, but if you can save some of it that’s a very good start.’
‘Thank you for your enthusiasm,’ I say. ‘That will keep me going until lunchtime.’
‘Come on.’ Matt nods towards the door. ‘Let’s get out there. It sounds like the rain has stopped for now.’
I glance out of the window and I think that he’s right.
‘I’d like to do some more preparation in the yard for the open day, if that’s all right with you? There are lights to be strung for a start, if you don’t mind getting up a ladder.’
‘No problem. I should go and move my car. It’s blocking the gate and I need to make a few phone calls, then I’m all yours.’ He pushes away from the table.
‘Before I join you, I’ll have a quick word with Bev.’
The mayor goes outside and I take our mugs and plates back to the kitchen. ‘Are you going to tell me why you and Alan have fallen out?’ I ask.
She bangs her ladle into the pan of whatever she’s making for lunch. ‘Silly old sod only mentioned the M word,’ she huffs.