As Fran handed Tig his tea she sensed the atmosphere was lighter now, though whether this was because Andrew was there or because the calcium was working she didn’t know.
Sheand Issi sipped and watched in silence. The calf was on its feet now but the cow was still sitting on the straw.
Then suddenly something changed. The cow seemed to change her attitude to motherhood and, with Tig and Andrew there to assist, lumbered to her feet.
‘Thank goodness,’ said Issi to Fran and put her arm round Fran’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug.
They both watched as the little calf staggered round to his mother’s udder and tried to latch on. The mother swung her head round and began to lick him. Then cow and calf worked out what to do at the same time and the calf began to suckle.
Everyone watched in silence and wonderment at the miracle of nature. Fran noticed that Issi’s cheeks were wet and swallowed hard to keep her own tears in check.
Andrew sipped his tea at last and Tig finished his.
‘I’ll get some hot water so you can have a wash,’ said Tig.
‘Or you could come up to the house?’ suggested Fran, who thought washing in a cowshed was too James Herriot for words.
Andrew smiled. ‘I’ll get the worst off down here. But is there a chance of more tea? I was lying when I said I liked it cold.’
AsFran set off back to the house again, with Issi, she was aware that as a feminist she should object to being seen as a tea-maker, but as one who knew nothing about calving she felt grateful to have something useful to do. She’d clear it with her conscience later.
She swayed slightly as she put the kettle on.
‘You’re falling over you’re so tired!’ said Issi. ‘Don’t worry about the tea. I’ll sort Andrew and Tig out. You go back to bed.’
‘I think I will,’ Fran said. ‘I probably need a proper meal but, frankly, I’m just too tired to think about what I want. Much as I love cake, it’s not quite doing it for me at the moment.’
‘I’ll make you an omelette when you wake up. Off you go.’
Fran went willingly, longing for another proper sleep in a proper bed.
ChapterSeventeen
Fran was so deeply asleep it took her a while to realise that Issi was shaking her again and she wasn’t on some weird fairground ride that had appeared in her dreams.
‘I’m so sorry to wake you,’ said Issi. ‘But there’s a message on the landline answerphone from Roger.’
‘Do I know a Roger?’
‘Yes you do! He’s your chef friend from London who liked your cheese. He’s left several messages.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Three in the afternoon. You’ve been asleep a couple of hours.’
‘Thanks, Is. I’ll call Roger. Oh, has Roy appeared? Wasn’t he due last night?’
‘Yes. He’ll turn up any time now, I imagine.’
‘Right. I’ll get my act together.’
‘Thankthe Lord you’ve called!’ said Roger, responding after the first ring. ‘I was beginning to give up hope! I want as much mascarpone as you can make as soon as.’
‘As soon as what, Roger?’
‘Grr! Look, I’ve got a team of food critics, magazine editors, representatives of major shops – it’s all a bit last minute or I’d have been in touch before.’
‘I’d never be able to supply supermarkets, Rog, even if I wanted to—’
