Page 62 of The Magic of Provence

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It was Christophe that broke that intense eye contact.

But the private moment of communication had given him not only the strength to think and move swiftly but the resolve to try and make this somehow less distressing for Fi.

The depth of emotion in her eyes had stolen his breath. And his heart. If they’d been alone, he would have taken her in his arms and held her the way she was holding that foal, but what she had inherarms was also the clear direction to take them out of this nightmare.

‘We have to help the baby,’ he said.

He examined the foal briefly, listened to its heart that sounded unexpectedly strong, ran his hands over the small body to make sure it hadn’t also been injured by thesanglierand dipped the stump of the umbilical cord in some iodine.

‘It’s a girl,’ he told Fi. ‘And the best thing we can do for her now is to make sure she gets some colostrum.’

He found a small basin in a sterile package in his kit. He splashed disinfectant on his hands and then on Mary’s udder and teats. He knelt beside her, totally focussed on milking as much as possible of the valuable first milk. It was a horribly grim task to have to do – he could already feel her body cooling beneath his hands – but he clenched his jaw and kept going. This colostrum contained all the nutrients, extra calories and, most importantly, the antibodies that were vital to give a newborn mammal the best chance of survival.

Alain emptied an unopened water bottle he had so that Christophe had a container to transport the milk, but he left a little in the basin and filled the syringe again. Fi held the baby’s head up as he slowly trickled some liquid into its mouth, but it was too weak to swallow and it dribbled out to drip onto Fi’s arm. Christophe got some sterile tubing and, as gently as he could, he fed a soft tube in through the foal’s nostrils to get it as far as the stomach.

‘Can you hold her with one arm as if she was standing up?’ he asked Fi. ‘And keep her head higher than her body with your other arm?’

He needed both hands to hold the tubing and put the nozzle of the syringe inside to push in the fluid that could mean the difference between life and death.

Alain stood behind him, watching. They had a conversation in French that Christophe didn’t translate for Fi.

Alain told him that he would take care of Mary and bury her, here, in the forest. He said that the rest of the herd was safe and that he thought they’d helped fend off the attack but none of them were injured. He shook his head as he watched the care with which Christophe was feeding the foal and wondered aloud how he would be able to look after this orphan on his own.

Christophe told him he couldn’t. That, being a vet, he was better placed to look after it and that Fiona would help him.

She glanced up, hearing her name, so he switched back to English. ‘I’ve told Alain I will care for the foal. I said you’ll be able to help me. Is that okay?’

‘I want to take care of her,’ she whispered. ‘I want to take her back to La Maisonette so I can look after her myself.’

‘We will take her back there,’ Christophe agreed. ‘It’s a better environment than the veterinary clinic, but I will need to help you. As you can see, the feeding is more than one person can do alone and she will need feeding a little bit but often. Every hour or so for the next few days. And nights.’

Fi nodded. ‘I can do that,’ she said. ‘If you can show me what to do.’

Her gaze hadn’t moved from his. ‘I need to save this baby,’ she added, so softly he almost couldn’t catch her words. Not that it mattered. He could see exactly how important this was to her and he loved the fierceness he could see in her eyes right now. The determination to protect – and love – this helpless orphan.

She was the person anyone, human or animal, would want by their side in whatever battle life could face you with.

Christophe was going to be byherside for as long as it took.

End of story.

* * *

Fi sat in the back of Christophe’s car with the foal in her arms, its nose tucked under her chin. She could feel every breath the baby took and breathed in the scent of its fluffy hair. She could feel the soft muzzle pressed against her skin and, at one point, she was sure she felt the lick of a tongue.

The foal must be breathing in her smell too, she realised, and feeling the security and warmth of being held. A bond was forming and it was remarkably similar to the kind of bond she felt when she was near Ellie’s baby, Bonnie. It was an emotional ocean that, for her own protection, she’d barely dipped her toe into so far, but this was different and she had willingly thrown herself into it. Oddly, she didn’t feel as if she was going to drown.

The baby donkey could smell her and see her and feel her. She may have even tasted her and she could definitely hear the sound of her voice.

‘It’s going to be okay, hinny…’ she told her softly, again and again. ‘We’re going to look after you. You’re safe, wee one… I’ll keep you safe…’

Fi was quite sure about that. She desperately wanted this baby to live and she knew she had the power to make it true, because she’d had the power to make the opposite happen, hadn’t she? For her own baby. A wish that had come true so fast she hadn’t had the time to change her mind.

If only she’d known that she would never, ever be able to take it back.

That it would haunt her forever.

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