Page 13 of Not Just for Christmas

‘To find a new best friend?’ I said wryly.

The end-of-school bell sounded, and we packed up our things, and walked towards the doors from where our children would soon appear.

‘Haha, no! To get you back in the saddle,’ she said with a touch of triumph. ‘And I don’t mean on a horse. I mean as in ride ’em, Cowboy.’

‘Absolutely not.’ I pulled up the collar of my coat a notch. I had the classic freckles and pale skin combination to accompany my auburn hair that showed even the slightest blush. ‘Jack was my cowboy, I’m not sure I’ll ever want to …’

‘Ride anyone else?’ she completed for me. ‘Listen, I know it’s hard to think about, but if you’re even contemplating the possibility of having more kids in the future, you’ll have to get back out there, because I think Mary’s cornered the market in immaculate conceptions, so back in the saddle you go.’

‘Please stop. It’s too soon.’ I felt my entire body tighten. The idea of kissing another man, let alone anything else made me want to cry.

‘The future is now, as the saying goes,’ she said with a sympathetic smile.

The future. For two years I’d focused on nothing other than getting through the present. I hadn’t wanted to accept that the future would be one without Jack in it, so it had largely gone ignored.

‘You’re right,’ I said, looping my arm through hers and squeezing her to me. ‘It’s just scary.’

‘Hey.’ She softened her voice. ‘I just want you to be happy.’

‘I know, but I’ve got a dairy farm I never envisaged running by myself, a son to bring up alone, parents the other side of the world to worry about. My own happiness is way down the list.’

‘And it shouldn’t be,’ she said briskly. ‘Because you matter too.’

A second later Tilly and Sam arrived, hurling themselves at our legs, drawing a close to our catch-up.

‘Mummy, can we go to the park?’ Tilly asked breathlessly.

‘For ten minutes,’ said Caroline. ‘But that’s all.’

‘Can we?’ Sam asked me.

My heart sank. I wished I could, but I needed to put in an order for feed for the calves before the supplier shut tonight. ‘Well—’

‘Mrs Oakley? Can I have a word?’ called a voice. It was his teacher, Miss Cooper. Young, cool, unflappable and universally loved by all the kids. ‘It won’t take long.’

‘Sure.’ I looked at Sam for signs of guilt but didn’t find any.

‘You go,’ said Caroline. ‘I’ll take the kids to the park.’

Tilly and Sam fist-bumped triumphantly, and I followed Miss Cooper inside to her classroom.

The room was set out beautifully. One wall had a mural of Santa’s feet dangling from a fireplace in the centre, surrounded by letters to the man himself from all the kids. I longed to go and read Sam’s.

‘It’s not a huge problem,’ Miss Cooper began after we’d taken a seat at a miniature table on a tiny chair. ‘But Sam has been using some questionable language recently.’

‘I’m sorry about that.’ I tried not to swear when he was around, but I was no angel. ‘Can you give me an example?’

Miss Cooper’s lips twitched. ‘Um, tits. I’ve tried telling him that it’s not a word we use, but he says that you do in your house.’

‘Not in the house, but on the farm,’ I explained, making a mental note to have a word with Pete. ‘We have cows. They have teats. I personally don’t use … that word … but others on the farm do, or should I say udders do, hahaha.’

‘Very good.’ The teacher chewed her lip. ‘And Sam’s other favourite word is arse.’

Favourite word? ‘In what context?’

‘Mummy put her hand up a cow’s arse?’ she blushed prettily.

‘I do do that.’ I hide a smile. If Jack was here, he’d have been rolling around with laughter. ‘More often than I’d like, to be honest. Sometimes cows need a helping hand when they’re calving.’