‘We’re hoping for a bull calf,’ Issi went on, sounding touchingly proprietorial.
‘Don’t we want heifers? For milk?’ Fran, fairly brain-dead through lack of sleep, was confused.
‘We need a good bull calf for the sake of the herd. The cow who’s calving now was impregnated with sperm from a very special bull that will refresh the gene pool.’
‘Youknow a lot about it.’
Issi stopped walking and turned to Fran. ‘To be honest, Tig doesn’t talk much but when he does it’s about the herd.’
‘Isn’t that a bit – boring?’ Fran suddenly imagined her bright and funny friend, stuck on an old sofa with Tig, talking about cows.
Issi hesitated. ‘Actually, I find it all fascinating. They are such an old herd, and have always grazed this really special, rare pasture. It’s why the milk is so full of flavour, and why your cheese is so good. Now come on.’
They reached the cowshed. Fran had been expecting the cow to be on her own, but she was in with the others.
‘Is she OK?’ she asked, feeling hampered by ignorance and lack of sleep.
‘She should be fine,’ said Tig, ‘but it’s her first time and you never know.’
‘How long will it take?’ Fran went on.
‘Again, you never know, especially with heifers.’ He smiled quickly. ‘She’s a first-time mother. She doesn’t know how it’s done yet.’
‘But she’ll be all right?’ Fran was thinking of the mother of the puppies, who’d had to have a caesarean and had then rejected her offspring.
‘I hope she will. It’s all going OK so far.’ He smiled again and Fran could see why Issi liked him so much: he was calm, knowledgeable and kind. ‘Youdon’thave to be here, you know, you could go back to the house and wait for news.’
‘No! I must be here. Cows are what this farm has; I need to learn everything I can about them.’ Before Roy inherits and sells them all, she added silently.
Tig made a sound that could have signified amusement or admiration or indeed that he had a frog in his throat. Fran didn’t seek clarification.
She found herself oddly fascinated. Although nothing much seemed to be happening – the cow was wandering around the enclosure, picking at the grass and occasionally mooing loudly – the thought that any moment she would give birth kept Fran’s attention. Either that or she was so tired, she was happy just to be in the moment and be part of what was potentially so important for the farm.
‘Tig told me she’s been lying down and getting up for a while now,’ Issi told Fran quietly. ‘As long as the contractions don’t stop it should be OK, but if they do, she’ll definitely need help.’
A bit later Issi suggested they made Tig coffee and went into the house together.
Fran ate a piece of cake while she cut one for Tig. ‘Good cake!’ she said.
‘Mary made it. She knew the calf was due soon and it’s a special one. Tig may not get in for meals.’
‘One of the sweet things about Tig is that although he’s a professional herdsman, through and through,hecares about his cows as if they were pets,’ said Fran.
‘It’s true. It’s good that you appreciate that,’ said Issi.
‘Why, in particular?’
‘Because you may be his boss one day.’
Fran laughed. ‘I’ll never be his boss in the ordinary way. I wouldn’t dream of telling him what to do.’ Then she yawned so hard her jaw cracked.
‘Listen,’ said Issi. ‘You’re half-dead. Go and have a nap.’
‘I don’t want to miss this, Issi. I feel it’s important. And I can tell Amy all about it later.’
‘OK. Go and sleep now and I’ll wake you the moment it starts getting interesting.’
Fran wanted to resist but knew it was futile. ‘Promise to wake me? Even if I’m deeply asleep?’
