‘You mean the black and white one?’
‘No need for sarcasm. She’s smaller than the others. Look!’ Fran offered the minute pup for inspection. ‘I’m feeding her twice, once at the beginning and once at the end of the session.’
‘Should you force-feed them? Isn’t that like what they do to geese to make foie gras?’
‘No, it isn’t at all like that!’ Fran was indignant. ‘But I’m not sure I should be doing it. She feeds well for a little but gets tired. By the time she’s had a rest she’s up for some more.’
‘I’m sure it’s absolutely fine,’ said Issi.
Fran dragged her thoughts away from the little family that was currently her obsession. ‘About Roy. I really don’t want him poking round while I’m not at the farm.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Issi. ‘I’ll be there. I’ll guard your territory. And you will be back soon, won’t you? Aren’t the pups being collected tomorrow morning?’
‘I think so, but when is Roy coming?’
Issi shrugged. ‘Not sure exactly. Late afternoon, early evening is what he said.’
Franlooked at her watch. It was nearly five. ‘Maybe you should be getting back then?’
‘I’ll make you tea and toast and then go,’ said Issi. ‘I do understand, but you look exhausted. You should let me do a shift so you can get a proper nap.’
‘I’m coping! It’s hard but I’m coping.’ Fran forced a smile. ‘I can manage here if I don’t have to worry about anything else. If you cover my back at home, that will be wonderful.’
‘Then that’s what I’ll do. Tea and toast first though. Would you like me to make you dinner and bring it over?’ suggested Issi. ‘My pasta sauce is fairly edible.’
‘Your pasta sauce is great but really, please, all I want you to do is guard my farm. There are cold sausages here, and leftover mash. I won’t starve.’
‘I do hope it becomes your farm!’ said Issi. ‘And not just for your sake.’
Fran put her hand on Issi’s. ‘I know. I think about Tig too. Now if you’re going to make toast …’
It was a long night. Fran felt she was constantly washing her hands, boiling kettles and measuring milk powder. In between she was studying little bodies so she could identify them, rubbing them with damp tissue and – the least part of it all – actually feeding the puppies.
She was washing bottles in the kitchen after the eight a.m. feed when she heard the doorbellring.Somewhat anxious, she dried her hands and went to open it. Who could it be? Who would call on Antony at this time? Surely it couldn’t be good news.
A couple in their sixties stood on the doorstep. ‘I am so sorry,’ said the woman. ‘I know it’s horrendously early, but we had to come and see about the pups?’
‘We’re Jack and June,’ said the man. ‘Antony’s friends. We own the collie bitch who had the puppies.’
Fran opened the door wider. ‘You must be desperate to see them. But they’re all fine.’
She felt oddly proprietorial as she opened the door to the sitting room and ushered the couple in.
June went straight over to look in the box. Fran went with her. ‘I’m looking for Betsy,’ said June.
‘Oh, there she is,’ said Fran. ‘Do you want her?’ She picked up Betsy and handed her over.
‘She’s grown! I suppose they all have but it shows most with Betsy. She was the smallest.’
‘I fed her twice – I mean each feed. Once at the beginning and then a top-up at the end. Was that wrong?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said June. ‘How kind of you.’
‘Shall I make some tea or something? While you get reacquainted with the pups?’
The couple nodded and then sat on the sofa, peering with wonder into the box. She left them to it and went into the kitchen.
Alittle later, June said, ‘I can’t believe Antony found someone to take this on at such short notice. I just didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t not go to my daughter and baby granddaughter. When he said he knew someone who might help we were so relieved.’
