Page 84 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
I can feel Llew next to me, smell the pine of Christmas-tree sap on him and feel the closeness of his strong body. ‘You okay?’ he murmurs into my ear, making my insides melt like chocolate.
‘Just thinking about the past, the future, what to do for the best for the farm,’ I say. ‘Wondering what the new year will bring.’ I glance up at the envelope on the shelf. Is Gramps’s field one of the things I have to let go of? The traditions of the past, the sheep in thefield, grazing. And let the solar panels go ahead to save the future of the farm. I wish some sort of sign would tell me I’m doing the right thing in agreeing to them. I look at Llew, wondering if he will be a part of the new year and my new future.
I pour more wine, and tea for Owen, who doesn’t want a drink until he knows how Jess is, in case he has to go to the vet straight away, while Dad deals the cards. We play hand after hand with one eye on the clock, laughter finding its way into the unusual Christmas Day.
At five to five, it’s dark outside. We’ve been watching the clock slowly tick around the last hour. Owen stands up at the table. ‘I’ll go to the shed and make the call,’ he says. He puts his hand on Evie’s shoulder and she puts her hand on his and looks up at him. We watch him pulling on his coat and leaving through the front door, with his phone as a torch, Ffion and Dewi at his feet, as if they’re not used to seeing him without a dog. A cold snowy blast pushes its way into the kitchen, flicking up cards and reordering them as they land.
We deal the cards again, but no one is really concentrating on playing.
He’s gone a long half-hour. We look at each other and everyone is thinking it must be bad news if he’s away so long. I haven’t put up today’s Instagram postbut what can I say? How can I end it on a cheery note when Jess may not make it? The tension in the kitchen is rising and I’m at the sink putting all my frustration into scrubbing the pans from lunch until, finally, the wooden door to the farmhouse opens and Owen is there, hair covered with snow, eyes wide.
We wait for him to speak.
‘She’s going to be okay,’ he says. A tear escapes, a hiccup too. ‘She’ll need meds and I don’t know yet how I’ll get the money, but I will.’
Evie is the first on her feet, hugging him. ‘I’ll make more dog leads and scarves, that’ll help! Maybe dog hats too.’
‘And we can do another food-truck night,’ says Mae. I see the worry on her face; having turned down the job at the café, what will she do now?
‘We can give the Amazon vouchers we got for Christmas from Josh,’ says one of the boys.
Owen throws his head back and laughs. ‘Thank you,diolch, all of you. For today and everything. Happy Christmas!’ He leans forward and picks up his untouched glass of wine. ‘I can bring her home tomorrow.’
‘Well, best you stay here for the night,’ I say. ‘Looks like we could all do with staying put! I’ll find more blankets and pillows.’ I’m in my comfort zone, sorting out bedrooms and makeshift beds for the night as the snow falls heavier outside.
The cards are dealt once again, this time with much more ambition, rivalry and laughter. With the makeshift beds organised, I head to the back door. ‘I’m going to check the sheep,’ I say, winding my new scarf from Evie around my neck.
I pick up the keyring that Llew bought me from the shop where he found the tree. It’s a little Land Rover, with a Christmas tree on top. I feed the key Dad has given me onto it and hold it up. ‘Best present ever,’ I say, wishing there was another way to keep the farm and I could stay here for ever.
‘I’ll come with you,’ says Llew, pulling a hat off the hooks. Yup, could be my mother’s old one again, pink with the bow. ‘Actually, I have another present for you in the car.’
‘Best Christmas ever,’ I hear one of the boys saying, as we step out into the snow and I look back at the golden glow of the lights in the kitchen.
‘Oh, Jem, might be an idea to look in at the ewe in the shed,’ calls Owen. ‘Shout if you need me.’
‘Okay,’ I call back, stepping into the cold, wintry evening.
In the shed, where the ewe is, I spot it immediately. ‘She’s not due yet! Too soon!’ I say, watching the ewe as she lies down.
‘She’s going to give birth?’ says Llew.
‘Yup, clearly the lamb has its own ideas … Bertie,’ I add, ‘you and your break-outs to the girls’ field.’
‘Do you want me to get Owen?’ says Llew, pointing back towards the farmhouse.
‘I think we can probably manage between the two of us and Mum,’ I say, gesturing at the ewe and stripping off my coat. ‘It’s not like I haven’t done this before.’ It all comes flooding back, my days of lambing beside Dad in this shed. Happy days.
‘I’d certainly like to think we can,’ he says, and together we kneel in the straw and help the lamb into the world.
Llew opens the kitchen door and the boys look at me as I walk in, carrying the lamb, wrapped in an old blanket, their eyes agog.
‘This one needs a bit of help getting warmed up by the range,’ I say, and the room sighs with happiness.
‘Is she going to be okay?’ asks one of the boys.
‘I hope so. With a bit of warmth and some milk. I’ll make a bottle and you can feed her, if you like.’
I make up the mixture and the lamb starts feeding from the bottle.
