Page 10 of Highland Games
It was so quiet. Back home there had been hundreds of people within a few feet of her at all times. Even in her flat, she could hear people moving about on the other side of a wall. Now it was just her, and an endless expanse of emptiness outside. She oscillated between a sense of loneliness and excitement, before excitement won out.
She popped in her earplugs, put her eye mask on, and groped to turn off the light. Lying on her back, she thought about Jamie, Fiona and Morag. Thank god for that family. With them on her side, life in Kinloch would be so much easier.
4
After the previous night in the car, sleeping on the floor in a tent was the height of luxury, and Zoe woke with a lazy smile, pushing up her eye mask and checking her watch to see she had slept for nearly twelve hours. Her heart was full with excitement for a new day, however her bladder was fuller, and she remembered with a groan that a sleepy morning stagger to the bathroom meant boots, a coat and a walk outside.
She pulled out her ear plugs, shuffled out of the sleeping bag, and walked to the Rayburn which was still warm to the touch. Jamie had shown her how to fill the firebox with wood last thing before she went to bed; ‘banking’ it, so it was ready to get going the next morning. She refilled it and brought out a stove-top kettle to fill with water for the essential morning cup of tea. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she attempted to get water from the five-litre bottle into the kettle, without transferring most of it to the floor.
A bellow came from outside, and she dropped the bottle in fright, straight onto her foot. It tipped over, and water glugged out. She yelled, grabbing at the bottle to right it, then sat on the floor in a giant puddle, rubbing her foot.
‘Owwww!’
‘Moooo!’ came an answering call from outside.
What in god’s name was that? She dragged herself up to stand, and limped to the front door. Everything was blurry through the plastic, so she tugged it open a crack and peeked out.
A shaggy head framed by enormous horns peered back at her, its eyes obscured by long auburn hair. Condensed air puffed thickly out of its dark wet nostrils, its front hooves were on the first step leading up to the deck, and its jaw was moving in circles as it chewed.
‘Mooooo!’ it called again in greeting; the sound waves vibrating the plastic sheeting of her makeshift door.
Answering moos came from the rest of her land, as more horned heads raised up from the eternal task of eating, to see that a human had been spotted. Humans equalled food, anden massethey ambled up to the porch to jostle with each other for front row seats.
Zoe closed the door, petrified with fear. Where the hell had they come from? And even more importantly, how on earth was she going to reach the outhouse? Cycling through her options in rapid succession, she squatted over the washing up bowl to pee, mortified she’d sunk so low on only her second full day. Maybe if she ignored them, they would go away? It was the only option she could even consider, so she got dressed and made herself a bowl of porridge, putting her ear plugs back in to help her ignore the sounds from outside.
Fifteen minutes later, she took out her ear plugs and checked through the dirty windows to see they had dispersed again. Now she just needed to make it to the truck and she’d be away. As she looked from cabin, to cows, to truck, planning her escape, she noticed stalks of hay lying on the darker grass. There weren’t many left, but they were concentrated at the top of her property, leading away down the track towards the road. Cows weren’t renowned for their brains or dexterity and the hay hadn’t been there yesterday. This herd had been coaxed here.
Zoe was livid. Was this some kind of ‘welcome to Kinloch’ practical joke? These were killing machines! They weighed more than Siena. And they had bloody horns! How the hell was she going to get rid of them? She decided to make a run for it. Get to the truck, drive up the road until she found a signal, then ring Jamie to beg for help. She packed her bag, pulled on her boots and coat, and silently pushed the door open, gingerly lifting her foot to place one hundred and forty pounds of weight onto the ancient decking.
Creak! groaned the floorboard.
‘Moo?’ went a cow.
‘Shit!’ yelled Zoe.
‘Moo!’ went several happy cows, as the herd quickly made their way back to the porch.
Zoe rolled her eyes to the heavens and slumped her shoulders. This was not happening! The most she had blocking her path back home were old people wanting a chat with the bus driver, or the occasional drunk. Now she was confronted by the results of a gene-splicing experiment between a tank, a yak, and a Wookiee. Even Spanish bulls that gored men in sparkly outfits didn’t have horns this big. This was it. Again. She was going to die. And this time, not mauled by a bear that wasn’t a bear, but by thirty tonnes of shag pile carpet.
Two of the cows pushed forward and placed their front hooves on the bottom step. It gave way with an almighty crack. They stepped back in shock and Zoe walked forward, the sound of the breaking step being the last straw.
‘Get off! Get back!’ she cried, flailing her arms like a windmill in a hurricane. The cows nervously shifted back, allowing her space to descend the steps to the ground. She furiously pointed towards the track leading to the road.
‘Bugger off! Shoo! That way!’
They looked blankly at her.
She stepped forward, gesticulating wildly. ‘That way, you dozy fuckwits! Over there!’
‘Moo?’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’ Zoe muttered and strode on, the cows parting before her.
She got to the truck and opened the door, hyped on adrenaline. Before jumping in the cab, she turned. The cows had stopped and were looking expectantly at her. Could she lead them off her land? She slammed the door and set off walking up the track, her new friends patiently following behind.
Her heart was hammering in her chest, but with each step her confidence grew. They seemed calm enough, and she could see a breadcrumb trail of hay which would hopefully lead her back to where they had come from. She took out her phone and started filming. If she was going to die this morning, she wanted to make the news. When she reached the road she saw scraps of hay in the verge on its far side, leading to the right up the hill. Praying no cars were coming, she walked across and picked up the pace, checking they were all still following her. Ten minutes later, the trail turned left up a muddy track, and five minutes after that, she found a metal gate leading to an empty field. She opened the gate and they dutifully filed through. She shut it behind them and rested her feverish forehead on the cold metal of the top bar. She had done it.
Buoyed by her bovine success,Zoe went into Kinloch to check in with Morag and Fiona. The bell for the post office door tinkled happily as she walked in to be greeted by Morag, her face lighting up.
