Page 92 of The Knitting Club at Wagtail Ridge

Before Mike could answer, a dual cab ute pulled up outside the shop and someone hooted the horn.

‘Time to go.’ Mike took a final gulp of his coffee then walked to the door and opened it. ‘Be right there,’ he called, before turning back to Rose.

‘Here, I can take that.’ Rose was conscious that Mike hadn’t answered her question.

He gave her the mug, but before she could step away, he put his arms around her and pulled her close. His kiss was sensual—and something more. Caring, perhaps. She didn’t dare think further than that.

‘I’ll call you tonight,’ he said as he finally let her go and stepped away. ‘This job lasts two days. After that, I can head back this way. That is, if you want me to?’ He raised one eyebrow.

If she wanted him to? Rose took his shoulders and pulled him back for another kiss. ‘I think that’s the second best idea you’ve had today.’

His eyes met hers, acknowledging how they had started their morning, then he chuckled and left. Rose started singing softly as she carried the still-warm mug into the kitchen.

***

As Bree pulled in at the house, she saw Maggie hurrying in her direction, waving an arm.

‘Sorry,’ she said as she got out of the car. ‘I didn’t mean to leave you with everything—’

‘One of the girls. She’s giving birth. I don’t know what to do.’ Maggie’s face was twisted with worry. ‘I texted you but—’

Bree had heard the beep, but never looked at her phone while driving. ‘It’s fine. I’m here now. Let’s go and take a look at her.’

‘I called the vet,’ Maggie said. ‘It’s Roxy. This is her first, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ Bree bit back thoughts of the vet’s fees. Roxy probably didn’t need any help and if she did, Bree could probably do what was needed. But despite having worked here for a while, Maggie hadn’t actually been present when a cria was born and her caution was understandable. Especially as she hadn’t known when Bree would return. ‘You did the right thing, Maggie.’

‘I was so worried.’

They had reached the gate into the small safe paddock where the new mothers and about-to-be mothers grazed. There were eight of them, all clustered near the far fence. Bree and Maggie went quietly through the gate and walked towards them. There was a soft, strangely pleasant, sound emanating from the group.

‘They started making that sound a little while ago,’ Maggie said.

‘They’re purring. They often do that when there’s a cria imminent.’

‘They won’t harm the baby, will they?’ Maggie asked softly.

‘No. They always crowd around like this. It’s their way of welcoming the cria.’

‘Oh … look.’ The girl’s voice held a tinge of horror.

Roxy was standing in the centre of the crowd. The cria was part way out of the birth canal, its head hanging down past its mother’s tail.

‘It’s all right. She’s fine.’ Bree put a hand on Maggie’s arm to stop her moving any closer. ‘That’s exactly what should be happening.’

‘But the baby … Why doesn’t she lie down?’

‘She will at some point. How long has the cria been hanging?’

‘I first saw its head about five minutes ago. That’s when I called the vet.’

‘Then she’s fine. It will take a little bit longer, but she should be finished unpacking soon.’ Bree saw the frown on Maggie’s face. ‘Unpacking is the word we use for alpacas giving birth.’

Maggie nodded, her eyes returning to Roxy. The alpaca lowered herself gently to the ground, her ears flicking back and forth. She didn’t stay there for long and was back on her feet a few moments later.

‘I brought towels,’ Maggie said. ‘They’re on the fence.’

‘Good. We may need them. It won’t be long now.’

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