‘No change there, then.’
‘Jack could probably cope with them. I think they’d pull the girls over. Where’s Alan?’
‘It’s only for five minutes. I’d like you down at the front with me.’
‘Do I have to?’
‘Yes.’ She pulls my arm.
I hope she’s not going to give me a bouquet or anything like that. I’ve had enough of the limelight for one day.
Chapter Sixty-Five
‘The moment we’ve all been waiting for!’ Bev shouts out. ‘Our mayor, Mr Matt Eastman, will be turning on the Christmas lights!’
Matt steps forward and says, ‘I know it’s already been said, but thank you to everyone for coming along and supporting Hope Farm. As I’m sure you’ve learned, they do great work here with challenging issues and limited funding. I hope you’ve all bought cakes, sampled the wine and cider on offer and will be taking home some of the crafts that the students have made. Dig deep and don’t go home with any loose change in your pockets! There are plenty of buckets around waiting to be filled.’
Bev passes him the switch that Alan has rigged up for the lights and Matt continues, ‘It gives me very great pleasure to turn on the Hope Farm Christmas lights!’
The lights shine out in a burst of multi-coloured twinkling and there’s much applause. It’s an idyllic scene with the beautiful Christmas tree and a backdrop of a nativity scene. Couldn’t be more festive if we tried.
It’s so perfect that I let out the breath I’ve been holding. Another thing gone without a hitch. Bev’s right, I do worry too much. Our students have been brilliant. The animals have been a big hit. We have put our best foot forward and this day could not have been better. Well, Shelby could have been here, but you know how I feel about that.
Then, before the crowd can disperse, Bev says, ‘Just one more thing before you go!’ She waves over to Alan and, looking rather bemused, he reluctantly joins her.
Bev stands in front of him and immediately drops to one knee. ‘I never thought I’d do this again at my time of life, but now that I’ve found you, you’re not going anywhere. Alan Taylor, would you do me the very great honour of becoming my husband?’
It’s fair to say that Alan could not look more surprised if he tried.
The crowd hold their breath while Alan tries to find his voice. When he does, he says, ‘I will.’
Cheering ensues as Bev jumps to her feet and hugs her new fiancé. I find myself crying as I cheer too.
‘Wow.’ Lucas is at my side. ‘Did you know about that?’
‘No!’ I laugh. ‘I’m nearly as surprised as Alan.’ I’m so pleased for them both. I think it was such a shock when he had his stroke that it’s crystallised her feelings for him.
The local paper have sent a photographer and he comes up to take a photograph of the newly engaged couple. Then he asks Matt to pose in front of the Christmas tree.
As he does, there’s a terrible racket from the nativity scene behind him. I know what it is instantly. ‘Oh, shit! Not now! Not now!’
Rod Stewart has decided to mount Tina Turner. Jack is so shocked that he drops all of their halters. I knew it was wrong to leave one of the students in sole charge. When our boys go, they have a mind of their own and the strength of an ox.
And, believe me, when alpacas mate, they don’t do it quietly. As you would imagine, of course, our alpacas do it much louder than any others. Instantly, the racket starts up. Their mating call is known as ‘orgling’ and it sounds like someone blowing bubbles under water. Quite amusing, in its own way, but not exactly what you want at the end of your open day in the middle of the nativity scene.
Not content to be on the sidelines, Johnny Rotten joins in. They can do this any time of the year and they frequently do. Our students don’t need sex education. They just watch this lot getting it on. But must they do it now? In front of a crowd? Do they sense that love is in the air and it’s made them feel a bit romantic too? Heaven only knows. They could do it in the privacy of their own pen when everyone’s gone home. But, no. Instead, we are treating our unsuspecting guests to an alpaca orgy. The noise of the three of them at it is ear-splitting. If this was going on in a hotel room next to yours, you’d be ringing the front desk to complain.
They bounce around in the straw. The stable is knocked over, as is Baby Jesus’s crib. The press photographer steps forward and rattles off a dozen shots. Oh, Lord. I dash forward and shoot into the pen to try and grab them. In my haste, I commit the sin of all sins. I leave the gate open.
As I grab the alpacas and try to disentangle them, everyone else makes a break for it. The sheep spill out into the yard, followed by the donkeys. Buzz Lightyear, not being one to miss a chance of escape, also makes a bolt for it. The other ponies follow suit, red ribbons flowing in the breeze. Instantly, the farmyard is in chaos.
‘Stop them!’ I shout.
Our visitors dive this way and that, holding on to marauding sheep for all they’re worth. Even Christian in his sparkly Santa outfit has a go. The donkeys, over-excited, bray at the top of their voices. Which, on the plus side, helps to drown out the sounds of over-enthusiastic courting alpacas. The press photographer is having a field day.
I see Bev, Lucas and Matt calmly taking control in the yard, while I try to regain some sort of order in here. I manage to grab their halters and stop the alpacas doing . . . er . . . what alpacas like to do.
‘Oh, Rod,’ I say. ‘How could you?’
He looks at me in quite a lascivious manner. All comers are clearly looking attractive to him. Once they start, it’s a hell of a job to stop them.
But stop them we finally do. With the help of our visitors, the sheep, goats, donkeys and ponies are rounded up. I’m mortified that our day has ended like this but, in the yard, there’s much laughter and camaraderie. Everyone is saying how much they enjoyed getting involved and, apparently, found our shagging alpacas ‘endearing’. I don’t understand humans, really I don’t.
So when we’ve got all the animals back to where they should be, our crowd of well-wishers drift away home. We’ve no cakes or crafts left for sale, the stalls have been stripped. Our buckets are full and jingling. We’ve had offers of support, people asking if they can volunteer and even enquires about taking on new students.
I’m stunned.
Chapter Sixty-Six
The yard seems weirdly still after everyone has gone and the animals are settled again. Peace has returned. I kiss Christian goodbye as he dashes off for his swanky party and thank him for his efforts. He’s kept a constant queue of children very happy with Santa selfies.
Bev and I pull some deckchairs round the Christmas tree. I made the right call in putting aside some cakes and mince pies for us as a celebration, and I set them out on a picnic table that’s been pressed into service. There’s a crate of beer chilling and Bev is already dishing out the last of the mulled wine, cider and hot apple juice.
She hands a juice to me and we clink cups together. I flop down into one of the chairs with a contented sigh. Open days, I’ve decided, are exhausting – but worth it as we seem to have buckets of cash. A job for tomorrow is to total it all up.