Rita had used the majority of Hilda’s money and had taken the risk of maxing out another credit card to keep her dream alive.
‘We need some kind of shelter around the compost toilets, plus I’ve yet to give the outbuilding loo and shower a proper clean-up. Once I’ve titivated the barn, we’re nearly there. Thankfully, I’ve got Zenya on board, whom you must meet, but I really could do with one other person, as she’s not qualified to teach yoga.’
‘It’s peak wedding season for me,’ Sennen said, biting her lip. ‘But maybe I could somehow come and help in the summer. Base myself down here for a bit. I mean, it’s probably unrealistic with all the bookings I’ve got, but… I could shuffle things around, work remotely on the admin stuff, and lend a hand where I can. I’d love to be part of it, Mum.’
Rita could see the cogs whirring in her daughter’s mind. ‘You’ve got your own life, darling. And as much as I adore you and would want you around all the time, I have to do this for me. Actually, we haven’t even talked about you and Alex. What kind of mother am I?’
‘A brilliant one. That’s what you are. You bringing me up here this morning, it kind of puts everything into perspective, doesn’t it? This view, the horizon. Who knows what’s beyond it. I need to go home and have a chat with him. He can’t just throw me out on the street. My life is in Reading; I like it there. But I guess I can work from anywhere. I just need some time to fathom stuff. I may just rent a studio flat somewhere and get back on track.’
‘You’re being very grown up about it.’ Rita went to her daughter and squeezed her shoulder. ‘And our door is always open.’ She stuttered on the word ‘our’. ‘You know that.’
Sennen pulled her shoulders back. ‘Mum, nothing can be as bad as Dad dying. He wisely taught me that there is always a solution to everything; the ironic bit is he used to add “except for death”.’
Sennen’s sentimental statement was lost in the wind.
As the pair started to walk back down towards the farmhouse, a single gunshot shattered the peaceful morning, causing all kinds of birds to scatter and shriek in fear. The chickens had all run into their coop and the goats were cowering at the back of their winter hay shelter.
Sennen was wide eyed. ‘Where the hell did that come from?’
‘Stan probably just saw a pheasant; your dad used to be the same.’
They then heard a low monotonous wailing. Rita, now worried herself, started to run towards the chicken coop, Sennen in tow, to find Kelly, in her oversized sunglasses and Rita’s hooded dressing gown, shotgun in hand, shaking all over. Nigel the cockerel lay motionless at her feet.
‘I didn’t mean to do it,’ Kelly whined, throwing the gun to the ground in fear.
‘What exactly did you mean to do then?’ Rita’s voice rose in anger.
‘I just… I thought if I fired out of the window into the sky, he’d shut up. You know, scare him a bit.’
Sennen crouched down to inspect Nigel. ‘Well, it looks like you’ve definitely scared him… permanently.’ She held back a snort. ‘He’s clearly died of shock.’
‘Oh, no, oh no. My hangover was raging, I’d just got back off to sleep, and there he is crowing like he’s auditioning forThe Voice: Poultry Edition.’
‘He was a cockerel. It’s literally his job,’ Sennen replied matter-of-factly.
‘Well, he’s certainly retired now,’ Rita said curtly. ‘But if it helps you to sleep at night, he was nearing the end of his life anyway.’
‘I’m a monster.’ Snot was now everywhere on Kelly’s face.
‘Yes, you are,’ Sennen replied bluntly.
They all stared down at the lifeless feathery body.
‘You’re not going to report me to the RSPCA, are you? You can if you want. I will deserve everything I get.’ Kelly wiped her face on the arm of Rita’s dressing gown.
As the hens clucked uncertainly nearby, a lone tear fell down Rita’s cheek as she gently picked up and cradled Nigel’s lifeless, slightly wonky body. ‘We shall bury him in the orchard graveyard next to our dear Buddy.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Kelly wailed again.
‘And we must never mention this to anyone,’ Rita added. ‘If anyone asks, our feathery alarmcockdied of natural causes.’ Tears began to run down Rita’s face.
‘Not by some madwoman with a hangover,’ Sennen added. ‘And Mum, I think it’s time you got rid of that gun.’
Rita nodded, a little laugh slipping out at the insanity of the situation. ‘What, before she takes out the goat herd too, you mean?’
FOURTEEN
Three weeks later, Rita stood in the middle of the barn, a mug of tea going cold in her hand, and breathed a deep ‘breath of peace’ from her stomach, the kind that Zenya had taught her to execute when feeling anxious.
