Tina flicks her pom-pom hair at me.
‘Just try, for once,’ I say. ‘Would it kill you?’
I move on to give our sheep their breakfast. Fluffy gets a little bit of extra ‘extra’. I’m feeling great empathy with her at the moment.
‘We’re in this together,’ I whisper to her as she turns her big eyes to me. ‘I’ll look after you.’
The students have groomed all the ponies and they look sparkly and clean – for the moment. I feed them next. The girls are coming in early today to make the ponies look Christmassy. They’re going to get red ribbons threaded through their manes and, apparently, their hooves will be painted in glittery red varnish. This is the nearest we could get to reindeer.
The nativity scene is going to be set up in this part of the barn and the lads are going to move the scenery that everyone’s been painting into place just as soon as they’re all here. And, for a moment, I have a good feeling. My terror subsides. This is going to be all right. Bev has been working very hard behind the scenes and I should put my trust in her. We couldn’t have done it without Matt, either. I’ve not seen so much of him since he’s been back on mayor duties full-time. I think he’s trying to catch up with the backlog of commitments he put on hold to help us out. I can’t lie to you, I miss him.
Shelby called last night. He’s going to get here as soon as he can. Technically, Sunday should be his day off but he always seems to have meetings or press interviews or something that keeps him away from us. But he has promised and I’ll hold him to that. I’m looking forward to seeing him – of course, I am – but part of me is dreading our conversation about our surprise arrival. I just have to hope that he takes it well. It seems odd, but I’ve been trying to curb my own excitement until I know how he’s going to react.
Animals fed, I head back to the caravan. In the middle of the yard, I stop and look around me. Fairy lights hang from every beam and we’ve got festive bunting strung here, there and everywhere. The kids have been very busy with their crafting endeavours. There are holly garlands and wreaths, the dangerously tempting bunches of mistletoe that you already know about and, in the corner, our huge tree. It all looks quite magical and I feel my eyes fill with tears. Perhaps it’s my hormones being all stirred up, but I think we do good here. I know we do.
Our kick-off isn’t until two o’clock, so we have plenty of time to get ourselves ready, but many tasks to complete. My next one is to get Lucas out of bed.
He’s been quiet the last few days and, as far as I know, he hasn’t seen or had much contact with Aurora. I need to sit down with him and find out what their plans are for the baby but, then, I’ve had enough to think about of my own.
Back in the caravan, I take him a mug of tea in bed. Lucas burrows down into his duvet and it’s hard to see him beneath the pile of covers.
‘Wake up, sleepyhead,’ I say and put his tea down on his side table. ‘Lots on the agenda today.’
He opens one eye. ‘I’m good to go.’
I laugh. ‘Looks like it.’
He opens the other eye and peers at his phone. ‘Christ on a bike,’ he complains with a groan. ‘Have you seen the time? You’re not stressing already, are you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Chill out. It’ll be good,’ he assures me. ‘We’ve got it all under control. You can relax and enjoy yourself.’
‘I’ll try,’ I tell him. ‘I know you’ve been working hard with Bev.’
‘It’s my job,’ he shrugs. But I know that it is much more than that to him. He takes great pride in the work he does at the farm.
‘Is your poem ready?’
‘You worry too much.’
‘No swear words in it?’
‘Fucking LOADS of them,’ he says with a grin.
That means there’s not. Phew.
‘Is Aurora coming today?’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Supposedly.’
‘All OK there?’ I ask tentatively.
‘I dunno,’ he admits. ‘She’s being a bit off with me. Moody and that.’
‘Probably hormones.’ Mine are definitely in a tizzy. I also wonder if she’s beginning to realise the enormity of what’s heading her way. I know that I am. Could I have handled this at nineteen? I don’t think so. I’m not sure I can handle it at thirty-several.
‘Make sure you spend some quality time with her today. We’re having a bit of a get-together afterwards for the staff and students, a celebration. You can have a few beers, some food.’ A soft drink for Aurora. ‘See if she can stay around for that.’
‘Yeah,’ he says, then he asks, ‘Is Daddy Dearest coming today?’
‘I hope so. He said he was.’
‘Knowing him, he’ll rock up late when all the work is done and then take all the glory.’
‘He’s not as bad as you think,’ I tell him, hoping that I’m right. Shelby knows how important this is to me, to all of us at Hope Farm. ‘Christian’s coming later. He’s going to be Santa.’
Lucas grins at that. ‘Cool.’
I stand up and resist the urge to ruffle Lucas’s bed-hair. ‘Want some porridge for breakfast? It’s that kind of day.’
He nods. ‘Give me five to get my shit together.’
‘This will be a good day for us,’ I say. ‘I can feel it in my bones.’
Lucas snuggles down into his pillow and lets his eyes close again. ‘Weirdo,’ he murmurs.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
By the time Lucas has risen from his pit and downed two bowls of porridge for breakfast, Alan and Bev have arrived.
Thankfully, Alan is looking stronger every day, but that doesn’t stop Bev from fussing over him. Preferably, she likes to be no more than an inch away from him now. And I don’t blame her. It all must have been a terrible shock for them both.
‘Hey,’ I say and give her a hug.
‘Look what I brought.’ In the backseat of the car, in a mesh pen, are two handsome turkeys. ‘Before you give me any grief, I know we’re not taking on any more animals, but I had to rescue two turkeys at Christmas, no?’
I roll my eyes. ‘How could we not?’
‘Meet Holly and Ivy.’
‘Hi, girls,’ I say. ‘Where are we going to put them?’
‘I’ll sort that out,’ Bev assures me. ‘I couldn’t let them be someone’s lunch.’
‘Where did you get them?’
‘Best you don’t ask. I’ll drive them up to the barn. I don’t think the chickens will mind sharing for a couple of days.’
Like me, I’m not sure the chickens will have much choice.
‘Before I go, I’ve got the cakes from the WI too. They’re in the boot. Treble-wrapped, in boxes and under a table cloth. I think we’re OK hygiene-wise.’
God forbid we give food poisoning to our visitors via the medium of WI cupcakes.
Alan goes to the back of the car.
‘Don’t lift them if they’re too heavy!’ she shouts. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘It’s fine,’ Alan says. ‘Don’t fret.’