Page 23 of To Hell With It

‘You certainly beat me on that front, Ireland is much wetter than New Zealand.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ I said.

‘Well, maybe take a trip over and you’ll find out?’

‘Would you show me New Zealand donkeys?’

‘I’ll show you more than that.’ He winked and I blushed.

I wanted to ask him, when should I go? Would I stay with him or somewhere else? Would he take me for picnics on the beach – because I’d never actually had a picnic on a beach, never actually had a picnic with a man in my life – but I didn’t ask because I wanted him to say it all first. Instead, I pulled on my coat and wellies, and we made our way to my grandmother’s front garden and then down, through the little gap in the hedge that led to the field.

* * *

A low fog had already started to form, and I couldn’t see the bottom of the field, where I knew Ned would be. He liked to shelter in the small open shed that faced the hedge. He could come and go as he pleased but it gave him enough protection from the wind and rain, which I found comforting because I didn’t like to imagine him standing alone, sad, cold and soaking wet.

Sally, who had given me permission to come and go into the field, owned him. She’d bought him for her children when they were little, but they lost interest in him when the novelty wore off and he was left to graze and wander into my grandmother’s garden – I suppose that’s why my grandmother never asked Sally’s permission to go into the field. Sally had spoken with a chuckle at her wake when she’d described finding my grandmother one day, picking mushrooms without so much of asorry for trespassing. That was the thing with my grandmother; she got away with pretty much anything – even stealing someone else’s mushrooms. And technically that’s what it was, because they weren’t hers to pick.

When we got to the bottom of the field, I could just about make out Ned’s silhouette inside the shed and I called him with extra enthusiasm in the hope that he wouldn’t let me down and completely ignore me as he had done since my grandmother had died.

Sure enough, he did, but thankfully Jack didn’t seem to notice as we trudged through the soggy field while I kept my eyes to the ground for the wild mushrooms that clearly weren’t there.

When we reached the shed, Ned looked as fed up as I knew he would be and gave no hint of excitement at our arrival.

‘Happy fella, isn’t he?’ Jack said once we’d got inside.

‘He’s not been the same since my grandmother died,’ I said, and I cringed at how it sounded out loud. Could a donkey really be depressed by the death of an old woman?

‘Probably wants some company, I should imagine,’ Jack said as he reached out and stroked Ned’s nose, which made me like him even more. ‘Needs to get himself a Sheila, I’d say.’ He laughed.

‘Isn’t it just the Australians that say Sheila?’ I asked.

‘They do, aye,’ Jack said. ‘But we said it first I reckon.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I don’t, just a feeling.’ He chuckled again. ‘So do you ride him?’

‘No, and I don’t think my gran did either.’ I couldn’t imagine her on a donkey.

‘Shall I give it a go?’

‘You?’ I gasped.

‘Have you never seen a Kiwi on a donkey before?’

‘I can’t say that I have.’ I giggled.

‘Well, there’s a first for everything.’ He ran his hand along Ned’s back but Ned didn’t move, not even a flinch. ‘I can’t imagine he’d buck me that far.’ Jack grinned as he walked around to his side and moved in closer – to Ned, not me.

I stood back as Jack swung his leg around Ned’s body at the same time as he pushed himself up on top of him. I pinched my eyes shut for what was about to come – a donkey squeal, a bolt, Jack dragged out to the field hanging by only Ned’s mane. But none of that happened because when I opened my eyes seconds later, Jack was still seated on Ned’s back, with his feet practically touching the ground, and Ned was standing as if nothing had changed at all.

Only it had because I took this as a sign from my grandmother because wouldn’t Ned have thrown him off if he wasn’t right for me? Surely my grandmother would have sorted that out from above?

It might not have been wild mushrooms, but it was the next best thing.

ChapterFourteen

The pub was heaving.

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