Page 80 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
‘The crowdfunding?’ says Mae.
I nod. ‘If we need to get more, we’ll find a way to do it. I’ve explained on the GoFundMe page what’s happened, that this fundraiser was all aboutcommunity, and right now one of our community needs the money. Anyone who isn’t happy with us spending it can ask for their donation back, but no one has. It’s the right thing to do.’
The clock slides round to midnight. ‘Let’s have a toast,’ says Dad, pouring whisky into the mugs. Myfanwy is handing them round. ‘To family and friends, old’ – he looks at Myfanwy, who laughs – ‘and new.’
‘And to Jess,’ I say. ‘If I had a Christmas wish it would be for her to get well and go home.’
‘To community,’ says Llew. ‘And remembering what’s important.’
We raise our glasses.
And that night, when the others have left, Dad accompanies Myfanwy back to her farm on the tractor to make sure she’s home safe and sound, and tells me he’ll be back in the morning. As we watch them go across the field, with the fairy lights sparkling, we shut the door and I look at Llew, then do something I have been wanting to do for what seems like a very long time. I lean towards him as he leans towards me and feel his lips on mine, soft at first and then becoming more urgent, as I lead him up the stairs to my big brass bed and fall onto the thick eiderdown.
And later that night, as I lie in his arms, gazing out at the falling snow, I realize that hope is always with us: we just have to look for her.
35
Christmas Day is quiet and sombre as we wait for news of Jess’s operation with the emergency vet. Llew and I check the ewes again.
‘One here is worrying me a bit,’ I say. ‘I think I’ll take her up to the barn, keep an eye on her.’
‘Okay.’
‘Let’s go and get the cattle lorry. I’ll move her in that.’
Llew goes to get his car keys and we head to the cattle market. The gate is shut and I unlock it. The only evidence of last night’s food-truck festival is the cattle lorry with its lights, bunting and the oil-drum barbecue, clearly too hot to move last night, and a piece of tinsel hanging from the speakers on a pole. The bins have been emptied and the festoonlighting put away. Everything is as it was, just covered with a layer of snow.
I think of what this place could have been if we’d managed to get the lease. But it wasn’t to be. There are more important things than potential. There’s living for the here and now. And right now Jess is being prepped for her operation.
I climb up into the lorry’s cab, put the key in and the radio bursts into life with ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’: ‘… if I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb’. Tears spring to my eyes.
Llew follows the truck as we leave the cattle market, lock the gate and drive towards home. I pull up at the cottage where Deborah, the estate agent, was staying. It’s all in darkness. No lights, no dogs, no festive cheer.
‘It looks like life in the countryside at Christmas isn’t for everyone,’ I say to Llew.
‘Certainly isn’t without its ups and downs,’ he says, and kisses me. Right now, I’d like to take him back to bed and stay there, under the eiderdown.
I climb back into the cab and drive to get the ewe that seems under the weather. We guide her into the back of the lorry and take her up to the barn. I make a pen for her there with plenty of fresh straw and water.
‘We’ll be back to check on you soon,’ I say, as wewalk towards the farmhouse. The tractor is in the yard; Dad and Myfanwy are in the kitchen.
‘Happy Christmas, love,’ says Dad. ‘Although it won’t be a happy one until we hear news from Owen on Jess,’ he says, saying exactly what we’re all feeling.
‘Happy Christmas, Dad,’ I say, holding him tightly, feeling grateful to be with him, on the farm. ‘Why did I ever want to leave? What on earth did I think I’d find in Seattle that I haven’t got here?’
‘Christmas trees!’ says Dad, laughing.
‘Ah, talking of trees …’ Llew disappears outside and comes back with a small, misshapen object, holding it in one hand. We all burst out laughing.
‘Where did you get that?’
‘At the petrol station at the end of town. Open for two hours for last-minute essentials and gifts, it said on the door. He was just closing. This was the last one.’
‘I’m not surprised!’
‘Ah, don’t say that, you’ll hurt his feelings!’
‘It’s a he?’
