He grabs her hand and begins pulling her towards the first of the many barns we’ll visit today, while Matt and I follow behind.
‘He was so excited on the car ride up,’ Matt tells me, grinning broadly and carefully stepping over anything that resembles a cow pat. ‘Sarah was a bit quiet though. Don’t think traipsing through a farm in this heat is quite her thing.’
‘Probably not,’ I reply, knowing that it likely has more to do with having to see me again after all these weeks of silence rather than the weather. ‘Alfie’s bound to have enough fun for all of us anyway.’
A crowd around the piglets has already formed, while the larger pigs get some respite from theahhingandawwwingwhich emanates from excited visitors. Sarah manages to squeeze Alfie in near the front of the pen where he points delightedly at the cute little porkers as they snuffle around beside their mother, who lies there looking entirely unimpressed. I chuckle quietly as I see a young dad pull his child’s hand away from a curious pig’s mouth, mumbling something about not wanting to have to explain to his wife why the kid is missing some fingers.
Matt shuffles around each pen, admiring the snorting beasts, while Sarah glues herself to Alfie, ensuring he doesn’t vault over the side to get a better look at the one he keeps eagerly referring to asWilbur. I hang back, feeling a little out of place. I’m hesitant to make things any more uncomfortable than they already are. Even through the stench of pig shit, the atmosphere between Sarah and me still reeks with what’s been left unsaid between us.
‘Can we see the rabbits now?’ Alfie asks, his attention span shortening by the second. Sarah agrees, taking him by the hand as he drags her back out of the barn, while I wait for Matt, who is currently petting a rather large brown hog.
‘They’re cuter than they smell,’ he muses as we follow Sarah and Alfie towards the petting barn. ‘Almost makes me sorry to eat them.’
‘No more bacon rolls then?’
He grins. ‘Almost, mate. . . I said almost.’
Thankfully the brightly decorated petting area is far easier on the olfactory organs, where we find bunnies, guinea pigs, mice, rats, miniature ponies and a large tortoise named Ken. Every area has a chipper member of staff making sure the younger kids don’t try to lick the smaller pets, while others hand out food that we can use to bond with the animals. We start with Ken, who plods leisurely towards his lunch, but, as we discover, watching a tortoise eat a strawberry painfully slowly gets boring rather quickly.
Alfie heads for the rabbits next, plonking himself down beside a girl holding a large, fluffy grey bunny, patiently waiting his turn. He’s so mesmerised by the animal, it almost makes my heart burst.
‘He always wanted a house rabbit,’ Sarah mentions as she waves over at him, ‘or a dog. . . in fact, any kind of pet. . .’
She looks at her feet for a moment and sighs. ‘A kid should have a pet. One day, when I can afford a place of our own. . .’
Matt wraps his arm around her waist and quickly hugs her, a hug which I can tell impliesyou’re doing your best, you’ll get there.Sarah smiles and focuses on Alfie who is now happily in charge of Thumper.
As I look around, I see that the barn is jammed full of families featuring all generations: grannies pushing buggies, grandads pacing with their hands behind their back, mums and dads chasing around older kids who have no intention of resting until bedtime. It looks like a lot of work. Fuck, it looks wonderful. Maybe if things had gone another way, it would be me chasing Alfie while—
‘Check out those rats,’ Matt says, his voice snapping me back to reality.
‘Sorry, what?’
He gestures to his right and shudders. ‘The rats. Not my favourite.’
I turn to see a member of staff holding two brown and white rats; kids stare up in awe as the rodents scramble over his hands and up on to his polo shirt. No one appears to be in any rush to hold them, however.
‘Oh, hell no,’ I say, taking a step back. ‘When I was younger, our high-rise had a rat problem. They were gross. By the time I moved out, pretty much everyone in that block of flats had invested in a cat.’
‘Those ones are quite sweet though,’ Sarah remarks. ‘They’re not overlyratty. You know, like the street rats that hunt in gangs and carry switchblades.’
‘Would you like to hold one?’
Sarah takes a step back as the staff member beckons us closer, obviously eager to show off his rats. His name badge informs us that his name is Dean, but his glasses and middle-parting scream Sheldon.
I frown. ‘Erm, no. . . I’m good.’
Dean laughs. ‘They’re very well socialised, they won’t bite.’
Sarah turns to look at Matt, who is already retreating.
‘I would, but I really need the loo. Back in a sec!’
She scowls as he scuttles off towards the toilets, putting as much distance between himself and the rats as possible. ‘Um. . . well, I need to keep an eye on Alfie, so perhaps another time. . .’
She turns to see Alfie, now finished with the bunny, bounding up behind us.
‘Is this Alfie?’ Dean asks. ‘I was just asking your mum if she wanted to hold one of our lovely ratties!’
