Rita’s mind flicked to Jago for a moment, but she quickly shoved the thought aside. Some things were better left unsaid, fornow. Her loins had stirred at Paul’s attention, a guilty thrill she couldn’t quite shake. But in all its confusion, she feared her heart was yearning for Jago Jenken.
She checked her watch. ‘Shit, I need to get a move on, breakfasts to be delivered and all that. Thanks for being there, Kel.’
‘Always here with an ear.’
Kel hung up.
The air was cool, the sort of July morning that whispered promises of heat later. Pulling on her hoodie and wellies, because the dew soaked everything, Rita padded across the courtyard followed by an ambling Henry.
Bless Zenya, she must have gone up to the main gate earlier as the breakfast hampers were lined up by the front door, all ready to be delivered to the yurts. Loading them into the Jimny, she drove up next to the food store, grabbed a sack of grain, then parked up by the chickens.
‘Morning, your majesties,’ she called to the goats as she passed the pen. Henry set about sniffing and doing his business. ‘I’ll just do the feathery ladies first.’ She made a mental note to ring the vet, just to check Camilla was still doing OK. And really, she should have told Jago that his Cedric was almost certainly the father… but ‘should’ was a funny old word, one she often disregarded until a ‘would’ or a ‘will’ finally pushed it out of the way.
The chickens were already chattering at the coop door. Rita scattered grain and smiled at their eagerness to run free. ‘There you go, ladies. Keep laying those golden eggs like you have been.’ Mavis gave a sassy cluck in reply.
As Rita approached the goat pen, she spotted Emily kneeling on the dewy grass, dressed in cut-off jeans and a plain grey jumper, watching Camilla graze. At the sound of footsteps, Camilla lifted her head, and within seconds, the whole herd sprang to life, jostling and climbing over each other in a chaotic dash to be first inline for breakfast. Startled, Emily scrambled to her feet and brushed the damp patches from her knees.
‘I’m not overfeeding her. She’s due early to mid-August, I think.’ Rita nodded towards Camilla. ‘Stubborn as hell, this one, and loves to escape. This’ll be her third pregnancy.’
Emily smiled faintly, watching the white goat snuffle down some apple.
‘She looks so… calm,’ Emily murmured. ‘Like she knows she’s safe.’
‘She is.’ Rita felt a surge of pride. ‘My girls get the best of everything here.’
Emily was quiet for a minute, her eyes tracking the round rise and fall of the goat’s belly.
‘Did you enjoy last night? The moon and stars and all that malarkey.’ Rita filled the last of the goats’ tins.
‘Yes. It was lovely.’ Emily smiled. ‘It’s a funny old group. Like some weird dysfunctional family, but I fit in… so that’s OK.’
‘That’s good, then,’ Rita said plainly, not wanting to pass judgement on anyone.
‘I was pregnant once.’ Emily released a big freeing breath.
Rita didn’t move, just stayed still beside her, listening.
‘Last year. It was unexpected. I showed him the test and he just… blinked. Said, “That’s not part of the plan, Em.” And I knew. I knew the way someone knows a storm’s coming before the clouds roll in. You know.’ She swallowed. ‘I tried to be OK with it. Bought vitamins. Told myself he’d come around. But I think the baby knew. Knew it wasn’t wanted.’
Rita turned, eyes wet but unwavering. ‘No, Emily. Don’t you dare think that.’
Emily bit her lip. ‘I lost it at eleven weeks. Just… gone. And I couldn’t help thinking… maybe it was my fault. Maybe I wasn’t enough. Or maybe it didn’t wantme, either.’
Rita took Emily’s hand in hers and squeezed it.
‘Listen to me.’ Her voice was low and steady. ‘They hang on if they want to stay. But sometimes they just don’t. Sometimes it’s notabout us. It’s about timing. About their little soul not being ready yet.’
Emily let the tears fall now, unbothered by the mess of it. ‘But I wanted it. Even when I didn’t think I did. I did.’
‘He or she would have known that. That little spark, that flicker of love. It wouldn’t have gone unnoticed.’
They stood in silence until Camilla let out a long, irritated bleat.
Emily laughed through her tears. ‘She’s judging me, isn’t she?’
‘I think she’s saying you’re stronger than you think.’
Emily wiped her face with the sleeve of her jumper. ‘You always say the right thing, Rita; you’re so lovely.’
