Page 60 of Not Just for Christmas

Was that what I was doing, I wondered, thinking of my accidental career as a farmer. Living a life to please others? Was there a way to make yourself happy as well as everyone else? Like Dylan, I didn’t have all the answers either. But maybe it was time to start looking.

Sam opened the door. ‘Shall we go home?’

Dylan and I both held out a hand to him.

‘Yes, please,’ we said at the same time.

Chapter 26

‘Sorry to bother you so late, Pete,’ I shouted into my phone to make myself heard above the background music and loud voices at his end. The last time I saw him was down at the harbour, after Santa’s procession, knocking back pints with his mates. Evidently, he was still partying.

‘Whassup, love?’ Pete slurred.

‘The heifer with twins is in labour and nothing seems to be moving.’

‘Bugger.’ He went silent for a moment. ‘I’d come an’ ’elp but I’ve had five pintsh.’

‘And the rest, mate,’ someone piped up. ‘Whose turn is it to deal?’

‘Not to worry,’ I said, trying to keep the panic from my voice. Pete must be playing cards with his mates. ‘Is there anything special I need to know?’

‘Nah. You’ve asshisted with loads of birfs, this is just the same, only double. Just get gloved up and have a feel, see what’s going on,’ was Pete’s sage advice.

‘Oi, Pete, hurry up.’

I ended the call with a promise to keep him updated and pocketed my phone.

‘It’s OK, we’re in this together,’ I said to the groaning mother-to-be. ‘Literally.’

She was lying on her flank, breathing heavily through a contraction. I knelt beside her and looked at her rear end again. Still no sign of a birth sack. There were two other pregnant heifers in the shed too, both of them dozing and occasionally lifting their heads to see what I was doing.

I wiped a stray strand of hair from my face with my free forearm and shifted my position in the straw. I was glad I’d had the foresight to layer up in my thermals and thick socks under my jeans and coat. I’d only planned on doing a quick check on this one, but once I’d found her in labour, I didn’t have the heart to leave her. The radio was on and playing classical music in a vague attempt to create a calm atmosphere. I wasn’t sure who needed that more, her or me. I was tired, cold and despite the company of three cows, I felt very alone.

‘Where is this pesky calf?’ I murmured.

There was nothing else for it. I donned some gloves, my heart thumping as I eased my hand inside her. She craned her neck round to see what was going on, her eyes understandably wide. Don’t get this wrong, she seemed to be saying. My fingers found the calf’s feet. My heart sank; just like babies, calves are normally born head first. Pushing a four-legged animal out feet first wasn’t going to be easy. I’d have to help her deliver.

‘Hey,’ said a voice from the gate.

I looked up in surprise to see Dylan, holding two mugs with steam coming off them. ‘I brought tea.’

‘You’re a star.’ I was so grateful to see him, I could have wept. The hot drink was welcome, but more than anything, just having someone else there for moral support gave me an instant boost. ‘Let yourself in.’

He opened the gate, closed it behind him and set the mugs down next to the radio.

‘Is Sam—?’ I began.

‘Fast asleep,’ he said. ‘I checked before I came over.’

‘Thank you.’ I usually left a note in my bed for him on nights like tonight, in case he woke up and went looking for me. With Dylan here, I hadn’t bothered. It dawned on me how much easier it was to not be the only adult there for my boy. ‘You’d make a great dad.’

‘I hope I will,’ he said wistfully, holding my eye. ‘Some day. I just gotta find someone to be a great mom with me.’

‘You will,’ I said.

His eyes locked with mine and I had a sudden memory of a similar conversation we’d had years ago. It had been our first Christmas after Sam had arrived and Dylan had paid us a flying visit. Just like now it had been late at night. He’d heard me crying and knocked on the nursery door to find me exhausted from sleep deprivation, trying to get Sam off to sleep. In the quiet of the house, he’d confided his dreams of fatherhood before taking over the night feed and sending me off to bed. At that moment, it was the kindest thing anyone could have done for me. Was he remembering it too, I wondered?

‘But in the meantime …’ I focused my attention back onto the labouring cow in front of me, ‘I’m hoping we’re just about to see this one become a mother.’