‘I’ve never really looked after an animal – animals plural, I suppose – like this before. It does make you really care about them. As you said, they’re so dependent.’
‘Even big animals, like cows, are dependent,’ said Antony. ‘Ask Tig.’
Fran was beginning to understand a bit better now how Tig felt about his cows, and how, presumably, Amy had also. It wasn’t just because they were valuable and produced wonderful milk, it was because without care and attention they wouldn’t thrive. And caring for them made you love them.
‘I will talk to him about the cows a bit more,’ she resolved. ‘Apparently cows form family groups that it’s important to recognise. I’d like to know more about that.’ She took a breath. ‘Now, have we done all the others? Pass me Betsy. Come on, little girl, let’s get a bit more into you.’
Franinsisted that Antony missed the 6 a.m. feed and went to bed properly, so he could sleep until he had to leave for London, shortly after eight. He was driving himself as Seb was still away at his best friend’s wedding.
She was just preparing for the 8 a.m. feed in the kitchen when he appeared, fresh from the shower, shaved and smelling heavenly. When she turned to look at him, she saw he was looking wonderful too.
‘You don’t look like someone who’s only had four hours’ sleep,’ she said, taken aback by the impression he made on her.
‘I don’t know if people who’ve had very little sleep always look like you do,’ he responded, ‘but I must say, it’s a look I like.’
Fran paused, halfway through filling the kettle. ‘Are you paying me a compliment?’
He laughed gently. ‘I realise to the sleep-deprived that probably sounded a bit obscure. But yes. You look lovely. Rumpled, not remotely “groomed”, but delightful.’ He frowned. ‘I’ve probably stepped over a boundary when I shouldn’t have. Sorry. Forget I said anything.’
‘I’d rather remember, if you don’t mind,’ she said, suddenly shy. ‘And have you time for tea?’
He walked over to his coffee machine, which was the size of a small car. ‘I think I need something fairly high-octane. Which is a double espresso.’
‘Toast?I could slather Marmite on to it to make it almost inedible? I’m afraid the thought of a double espresso at this time in the morning gives me a headache, but if that’s the sort of thing you like …’
‘Toast, with butter, and just the usual amount of Marmite would be heavenly.’
‘I’m on to it,’ she said.
Seemingly seconds later, Antony said, ‘That was delicious,’ wiping his mouth. He cleared his throat. ‘I can’t decide which would feel weirder, kissing you goodbye or not kissing you goodbye.’
‘Oh …’
‘Actually, it’s probably wrong to kiss you in any case, but I’m going to do it anyway.’
And he did. Not the peck on the cheek she was expecting, but on her mouth, firm and meaningful enough for her to remember for the rest of the day.
Fran spent the day watching daytime television and dozing in between feeds. She was better at identifying the pups now, and had the knack of getting them to wee and poo quickly. Betsy, the little one, seemed to be thriving on her two-tier feeding system. Fran was quicker at measuring out the powdered milk, too. But she was a zombie really: the outside world seemed irrelevant. All that mattered was feeding the pups on time and getting ticks in all the boxes on the chart.
Thepups always weed, but sometimes they missed the other bit, which was worrying. Fran wished she’d clarified with Antony on how many boxes could have crosses in them, consecutively, before the vet should be called. While this hadn’t happened yet, she did look up the number of the nearest vet so she’d have it handy.
Issi came over in time for the four o’clock feed. She was instructed in puppy hygiene and – as a huge concession to the fact that it was so time-consuming, and it was Issi – was allowed to help with the feeding. Being short of sleep and making the little family the absolute focus of her attention had given Fran lioness tendencies when it came to protecting them.
‘You probably don’t want to hear this now,’ said Issi, watching in admiration as Fran deftly produced wee from a puppy as if she were pressing a button and not just dabbing with damp cotton wool. ‘But Roy is due back later this evening.’
‘Oh no! I was hoping he’d spend a bit longer on his whirlwind tour of the British Isles.’
‘He went to Cornwall.’
‘Good choice.’
‘But now he’s coming home today. Not sure why but he muttered about B and Bs being expensive.’
‘Oh God, I’ve been dreading this. Because I live at the farm, he’s going to think that he has the right to as well. But I’m living off my savings. I’m not going to support him.’
‘Ofcourse not! I do what I can with my rent but I’ve seen you worry about all the expenses.’
‘It’ll be OK,’ said Fran. ‘Honestly, as long as we keep these puppies alive until they’re collected, nothing else seems to matter. See little Betsy?’ She pointed to the pile.
