‘Is that a hot tub?’ Cristy whispered, pointing to a small construction in the middle of the right-side lawn.
‘Looks like it,’ Connor responded, ‘and there’s a fire-pit over there, excellent for outdoor dining – or midnight rituals?’
Intrigued by the mix of olde-worlde charm and modern luxuries, Cristy made her way along the wall to the small gate in order to get a better view. The place was clearly well taken care of; even the outbuildings appeared solidly constructed and highly maintained.
‘I can hear cows,’ Connor murmured as he joined her.
She listened, and sure enough, there was the distant lowing of cattle. No sign of them, but the fog patches were too thick to get a good sense of where any fields or livestock sheds might be.
They tensed as the front door suddenly opened and a young woman came out onto the porch, wearing an old wax jacket, a woollen hat and jodhpurs. After taking a moment to dig her feet into a pair of green wellies, she let herself out of the side gate and disappeared into the stables.
They waited a moment to see if anyone followed or for her to return. Nothing happened, until suddenly the front door opened again. This time, a tall, slender man with thick dark wavy hair and a close-shaved beard came out of the house. He was wearing an old Guernsey sweater, a black gilet and workmanlike jeans. From this distance, it wasn’t possible tomake out his features, and yet Cristy just knew, instinctively, that they were looking at Jean-Claude Meier.
He moved easily, almost gracefully, as he went to collect wood from a pile to one side of the porch, and unless she was imagining it, thanks to all she’d heard about him, there really did seem to be something about him that was … arresting? It couldn’t be his looks, given how indistinguishable they were from here, and certainly not his typical countryside attire. However, he definitely emanated a sense ofsomething.
Apparently, Connor thought so too, because he whispered, ‘I reckon that’s Jesus.’
Managing not to laugh, Cristy watched as presumed-Meier piled logs into a cardboard box and carried them into the house, closing the door behind him.
‘Do you think the woman might be Mrs Jesus?’ Connor asked drolly.
Throwing him a look, Cristy said, ‘Let’s find out what’s going on further down the lane. There are cars just past the stables, and—’
‘Shit, someone’s coming,’ Connor hissed, and grabbing her arm, he tugged her back along the wall, around the tractor and into the murky darkness of the barn.
Hearing the sound of a vehicle approaching, Cristy took another careful step back from the wide-open door, then another—
Her foot hit something soft, and suddenly she was sliding about in a pool of something that might not be mud.
Catching her, Connor held her up, then lost his own footing, and next thing, she was on her knees in muck and he was doing some sort of slapstick midair pedalling in an effort to right himself before he ended up flat on his back.
She was laughing so hard she almost choked trying to keep it in.
He was laughing too, straining to keep quiet while slithering about in useless attempts to get up.
It was so hilarious she thought she was going to burst. She was out of control, becoming hysterical, and the struggle to hold it in was only making things worse.
Suddenly, Connor was still.
She peered at him in the gloom, saw his eyes fixed on something over her shoulder and turned breathlessly to see what it was.
Her head reeled. Only feet away, staring right at them with wide golden eyes and fearsome nostrils, was a massive cow – with horns.
‘No fast moves,’ Connor cautioned, and tried to ease himself in front of her.
She made a guttural sound as laughter threatened to engulf her again. This wasn’t funny. This colossus could actually kill them, and yet she was beside herself with mirth.
They rose together, an inch at a time, clinging to one another while staring at the beast, and finally took a first tentative step towards the door.
The cow suddenly bellowed, a bellicose deafening roar.
They froze and watched in stunned terror as it turned away, stuck its head in a water trough and slumped heavily down in the hay with a weary grunt and snort. Only then did they realize it was tethered.
‘Fuck,’ Connor muttered, and quickly checking if the coast was clear outside, he beckoned her to follow.
‘Jesus, that was close,’ he muttered, as they reached the tractor.
‘The state of us,’ she spluttered. ‘We’re covered in shit.’
