‘Ah, a few hours of blessed kip.’
‘Then, I’m back on again tonight.’
‘Relentless, isn’t it – lambing time. Feels never-ending. It’s only around three weeks overall and it seems like a bloody year.’
‘We’ll get there. Same every year. Like a horrid hangover, you come out of it threatening never to rear any more sheep, and then by market time you’ve forgotten how bloody awful it is and you’re tricked back into it again.’
‘Hah, yeah.’
Rachel began rummaging in the rucksack for Jill’s pudding and poured herself another mug of tea.
‘To the hardy Cheviot Hill farmers,’ she said. She raised her tin cup. ‘Cheers.’
She passed Tom a portion of the rich, treacly pudding and a plastic spoon – Mum always thought of everything.
‘And to sticky toffee pudding.’ He smiled, digging a spoon into the sponge. ‘God, this is delicious. Fuel of the hill farmers.’
‘Hah. Absolutely!’
After chatting for a while, Tom headed back to snatch a few more hours’ sleep. As she’d suspected, he had been in bed when she’d called, trying to make the most of a rare night off from the lambing shed. Rachel felt a little guilty for disturbing his night, as he’d have plenty of his own work to do on his farm today.
It wasn’t long until dawn began to break with golden morning light filtering in through the gaps in the shed door. On her own once more, Rachel dealt with another birth – a single healthy lamb who came into the world without a fuss – and soon enough, it was time to head back over to the farmhouse and her family.
Thank goodness it had all worked out in the end for that little Texel. And, looking at the clear sky above her as she walked back across the yard, thank goodness for another warm dry day. The weather this spring was being kind to them. It hadn’t always been so. She walked past the old stone stable building that was no longer used. Remembering that fateful spring morning two years ago, she felt a shudder run through her.
Maisy was already up when Rachel got back to the farmhouse. She and Jill were busy setting out the breakfast things at the large pine kitchen table. Maisy was struggling, carrying two bulky cereal boxes, and dropped them down quickly on the table as her mum appeared.
‘Mumm-eee! How’s Pete?’
‘He’s good, Maisy. He had a great night and is feeding well.’
‘Ooh, can I go feed him?’
‘After school, yes. You’ve got to get ready and have your own breakfast now.’
‘Oh, not fair.’
‘He’s already had his breakfast today, anyhow,’ Rachel added.
‘Cup of tea, love?’ Jill asked, switching the kettle back on, already knowing the answer.
‘Yes, please, I’m desperate for another brew.’
‘Has everything been all right? I thought I heard a vehicle in the early hours?’ Her mum had a frown of concern across her brow.
‘Yeah, I had to call out Tom. One of the Texels was in difficulty.’
‘Oh, did you manage okay?’ As a farmer’s wife, Jill was well aware of the problems you could experience with lambing. She had often helped out herself in the past, but lately shared her time between the lighter farming duties and helping to look after Maisy.
‘The lamb was stuck. It had been going for too long and I was getting a bit worried, so I called Tom in. He did a great job. The ewe and lamb were both fine in the end. It was just a really big lamb.’
‘Ah, well I’m glad everything was okay with the little chap. All’s well that ends well.’
‘Yes, and thank heavens for Tom,’ added Rachel. ‘The poor guy, I think I woke him up. Been trying to catch a few hours’ sleep himself.’
‘Oh, he’s a lovely lad. I’m not sure what we’d do without him next door. He’s been a godsend.’
Lad. It made Rachel smile – he was well into his thirties. Her mum made him sound like he was thirteen. But yes, he had been a great friend to the family and a brilliant support, especially since they’d lost Dad.
‘Can I see Tom, Mummy?’ Maisy piped up, now sat at the table and digging a spoon into a bowl of Rice Krispies.
‘Well, not right now.’ Rachel sat down next to her daughter, cradling her mug of tea. ‘He’s probably either back in bed, or in his own lambing shed. He’s a bit busy just now, Maisy. We’ll give it a week or so, then you can go across and say hello when lambing is over.’
‘Ah, lambing is sooo boring.’
‘What do you mean? You love Pete and the other lambs?’
‘Yeah, but all of the grown-ups are too busy.’
‘Yes, that’s ’cos it’s so important. You’ll just have to be patient, petal. It’s our job.’ And, it’s what pays the bills, Rachel added mentally.
‘Maybe we can ask him across for Sunday dinner this weekend as a thank you?’ chipped in Jill. ‘I’m sure he’d be glad of that. Even if it’s just for an hour or so if he’s got a lot on.’
‘That’s a nice idea. I’ll mention it if we cross paths in the next couple of days,’ said Rachel.
Maisy was nodding animatedly, happy with that idea.
Time was slipping on and the school minibus would be arriving at the end of the farm track at 8:20 a.m. sharp. ‘Right Maisy, time to finish your cereal and go up and brush your teeth. Then it’s shoes on, rucksack at the ready, and I’ll walk you to the bus.’
‘I’ll go if you like, Rachel,’ Jill offered. ‘You might want to get off to bed.’
‘No, it’s fine, Mum. I’d like to go.’ However tired she felt, even at lambing time, she liked to spend some time with Maisy before and after school.
‘Well, are you peckish, pet? You haven’t eaten any breakfast yet. Shall I make you some scrambled eggs for when you get back?’
‘That sounds perfect. Thank you.’
They kept a dozen or so of their own hens, who wandered around the farm, pecking away and fluffing their feathers. They were happily free range by day and settled in their coops at night, which kept them safe from any foxes or other prey. Their eggs were delicious with orange-gold yolks – just perfect served scrambled or poached on thick farmhouse toast.
Ten minutes later, Rachel and Maisy had left the house and were out in the yard.
‘Can I see Petie before I go?’ Maisy gave her mum the cutest of smiles.
‘Maisy, you’re in your smart school clothes and best shoes. You’ll get filthy in the shed.’ Rachel did have her wellies on though. Looking at her daughter’s cheeky grin, she caved. ‘Ah okay, a quick one-minute hello. But just look, no touching, as we haven’t got time to go and wash hands again. Come on, I’ll carry you across.’ She hoisted her up onto her hip and headed across to the lambing shed.
The pet lambs were sectioned off in a pen near the front, so Rachel lifted Maisy to look in at them.
‘Hello, Petie boy! See you later!’ Maisy