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Sion scratched his nose.
“Sifting through data all day and testing network systems.”
He needed to do more research into what IT networking consultants did, but no one else appeared to know either and he’d not been busted yet.
“The crazy life you lead, eh?”
“You wouldn’t believe it, if I told you.”
“Bit of a change to spending your days with a gun slung over your shoulder?”
“Hmm. This work’s very dull.”
“I bet.”
He shifted awkwardly, he needed to switch the conversation off his cover story. He hated lying to her.
“At least now, I don’t have people worrying about me when I’m away.”
She took the bait.
“And did you have people worrying about you? Someone special?”
“Yeah.”
He saw her eyes widen on the screen.
“You did? Who?”
“My mam.”
She paused, and he could see her nose scrunching up.
“Hold on… You told me you were in Care? And, that your mam’s dead?”
“Got ya!”
“Ah, Sion, that’s rotten! Plus… you can’t give me half a story.”
“I might’ve had one or two girlfriends near where we were stationed.”
“And no-one now?”
“No, ‘course not.”
He stared straight at her on the screen.
“Why d’ya say that?”
“It doesn’t matter, forget I said anything.”
“No, come on, tell me, why? What is it, Claire?”
“Okay. When you’re on the phone, you always go out to take the call.”
She was observant. He’d never even thought about how that looked.
“Is that why, every time I asked you on a date, you said no.”
She nodded.
“Believe me when I tell you, there’s no one else. The calls I get, they’re all about work.”
He saw her studying his face. She looked embarrassed.
“We are the only place with signal, I s’pose.”
“Exactly. It’s the only time I get to make calls. But, what about you?”
“Split up from my boyfriend last year.”
“Why?... Sorry, that’s none of my business.”
Claire smiled at the screen.
“It’s alright. We wanted different things.”
“Like?”
“Like, he wanted to get married, and I didn’t.”
“Ah.”
“I couldn’t go through with it. Was that wrong?”
“No. It happens. It’d run its course and you were stuck.”
“Exactly. Only, he didn’t see it that way.”
“What d’you mean?”
“He proposed and when I said no, he got upset and asked me to leave. So, I did. That night. Slept on a friend’s sofa, until I got a place to stay.”
She was renting a room in a flat above a hairdresser’s with a single mother now; a friend from school.
“You glad you left?”
“Best thing I ever did.”
Claire shrugged.
“Sounds silly, but I’ve always wanted to travel. I’ve spent the last six months scraping every penny I can together, so’s I can go off, with a pack on my back, travelling the world.”
“Where to?”
“Everywhere.”
He caught her smile.
“I’ve never been abroad. My first ever passport came through last month.”
Sion couldn’t help but laugh at her animated face.
“Where to first, then?”
“I wanna... I wanna…,” she said excitedly, “ I dunno, eat pasta by the leaning tower of Pisa. Swim with dolphins. Lie on the beach in Thailand. Surf in Bondi… And I wanna find my dad.”
“Your dad?”
“He’s from New Zealand, my mum said. I’ve never met him, but I’d like to look him up.”
Sion nodded.
“All great things. You should definitely do them.”
“Wanna come?”
She threw it out casually; by her eyes that shyly studied his on the screen, he could see she was serious.
“I’d love to.”
???
“You see that?”
I follow the direction of Jac’s pointed arm and study a heavily pregnant ewe on her own in the field. She’s swinging her head about wildly, disoriented but still trying to eat the grass.
“It’s like she’s dizzy.”
“We’ve got to get the vet out, Jac. Could be a couple of things, but we need to hurry.”
“Like what?”
The ewe is now circling aimlessly in the field. Dammit! I’ve seen it before a couple of times, and it’s not good news.
“What is it, Annie?”
“It could be listeriosis.”
Jac looks at me concerned.
“Do we need to check the silage?”
“Definitely.”
It could mean many more sick sheep and stillborn lambs. That would be a disaster.
“If it is listeriosis, she’ll need a big dose of antibiotic, and even then she might not make it.”
Jac rubs his face with his hands and lets out a deep breath.
“What did I do wrong, Annie?”
“Hey, we don’t know what it is, yet. It might be twin lamb disease, or a brain thing? I’m no vet, I could be totally wrong.”
“But, I should know this.”
I can see he’s upset.
“I’m a rookie, and this poor animal’s suffering because of me.”
“Stop it, Jac,” I snap. “This is not your fault, okay? It happens. It’s farming.”
He’s quiet as we go about getting the ewe in, only speaking to give Jess commands. I can see that he’s privately beating himself up about it; shutting me out, making me feel helpless.
The vet arrives later in the afternoon, approaching the pen to check her out.
“Well, she’s sitting up. That’s a good sign. And you gave her glucose, you say?”
“ thought her breath smelled sweet.”
The ewe gets a little twitchy and shifts as the vet goes in. She’s more lively than earlier on; but she’s still glassy-eyed.
“You were right to give her glucose. I’m pretty sure it’s twin lamb disease, not listeriosis.”
A wave of relief floods through me, even though the diagnosis isn’t great for this ewe. Twin lamb disease is usually fatal unless treated early.
I move to stand alongside Jac. He’s barely uttered a word to me all day.
All afternoon, he’s been checking and rechecking the silage bales for holes.
“I’m gonna induce her so we can get these lambs out.”
“Lambs?” Jac utters. “They were all scanned, and this one’s having a single.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure she’s carrying two at least. That’s probably the reason she’s lost condition.”
I touch his hand and he takes it in his, locking his fingers tightly in mine.
“I think your quick actions with the glucose drench might just have saved this one,” the vet says, administering the injection to induce delivery, “Though, it’s early days yet.”
I can’t help but notice the palpable relief on Jac’s face.
“Keep an hourly watch on her,” the vet advises as she walks back to her truck. “She’s weak and she’ll need help getting those lambs out.”
Jac nods.
Another sleepless night.
In the end, we delivered triplets at two in the morning. They’re healthy, and they’ve each taken a drink of the ewe’s colostrum from a small bottle.
Mum’s still pretty weak, and Jac’s given her another dose of glucose. It’ll be touch and go for a day or so. And in the meantime, the three will be kept with her but fed on a bottle every couple of hours.
Jac looks exhausted as we head back to bed.
“What if I do the seven o’c
lock feed,” I offer. “So you can lie in?”
“Deal.”
I end up dozing in and out of a light sleep, conscious that I’m going to be woken up too soon by the alarm. And I am. Just as I’m drifting off into a deep slumber.
Sleepily, I step into my wellies, and with the bottles clinking against each other in the bucket, I head over to the shed.
In the morning light, as I approach the pens I can see that the sick ewe is standing up. And under her, two of the triplets are feeding. I stand well back, amazed; watching her making small beckoning grunts as she bends her head towards her tiny lambs.
It must be from exhaustion, but my eyes are welling up.
She’s made it, and she’s such a good mother.
Trying not to disturb the ewe, I pick up the little lambs one by one and give them a little of the formula colostrum. It’s a top-up because I’m not sure how much milk she’s got and three is a lot to feed, even for a healthy sheep.
Next door, there’s a lamb riot going on, as five, not so little boys and girls have heard me coming and are going mad, calling out for milk and my attention.
I go into their pen next, a bottle in each hand.
The lambs jostle with each other until two succeed in grabbing the bottles and begin sucking hard on the teats, making the milk gurgle. Behind me, the three other lambs are pounding their heads on the back of my legs, trying to get my attention.
“Wait your turn,” I tell them.
I switch bottles and feed the two others, then find number five.
Full to bursting, at last, the lambs move away, and I gather up the detritus of their feed.
