Damn. Crap. ‘Right. Thanks for that.’ I unhook my cardi neck, readjust my sleeves, and when I try again I walk away fine. ‘Are you okay?’
Ross is doubled up and looks like he could be choking. He pulls his hand over his face, and when he finally looks at me again he’s pretty much back to normal. ‘Don’t worry, it could happen to anyone, gates attack people all the time.’
‘Really.’ He’s taking the piss again but I’m not going to rise.
‘And I admit, I might have been laughing there. Just a little.’ He’s pointing at the ground. ‘Sorry, I meant to say, the cows have been in this field, so watch out for… Oops, too late.’
There’s no other sensation like it – the sole of your shoe sliding, and you know you’ve stepped in something awful. Except when I look down and see the greeny-brown sludge squelching out of the crust and over my foot it’s a hundred times more dreadful than the picture in my head. Worse still, I’d like to play this down but the shriek is already long gone. ‘Waaaaaaaaaahhhh…’
From somewhere Ross has found an even deeper tone than usual. ‘It’s only a cowpat, Cress, try to think of it as digested grass.’
Number one, if he thinks deeper equals soothing, it doesn’t work for me. All it does is bring me out in goosebumps. As for implying that I’m over-reacting… ‘It’s okay for you, you aren’t the one with cow crap all over your third-best trainers.’ It’s my own fault. It’s a farm field, I should have looked where I was walking. I can’t believe I made such a silly mistake when I was trying to look like a cool country person. ‘I know it’ll wash off and they’ll be good as new, but it’s just a bit bleugh until they are.’
His face contorts. ‘I’m fairly certain it won’t come off. Not off that light suede. I’m sorry, we’ll get you some boots for next time.’ He’s scanning my eyes to see how much he needs to throw in. ‘And some more trainers. Pink ones. Definitely. For sure.’
I can’t believe he thinks I’d be up for this again. ‘Remind me to stick to parks in future.’ I’m scraping my foot along the grass to get the worst of the dung off.
His face crumples. ‘Don’t say that. I always assumed you’d like the countryside.’
That gets the eye roll it deserves. ‘I admit I’m looking forward to seeing the lambs. We saw some at a farm park when I was seven, and it was my life’s ambition to take one home and keep it in the garden. Theyarethe white ones that skip around with those cute wiggly tails?’ I’m pretty sure that’s right, but this is such a minefield, I’d better check. Now I think about it, an entire field of lambs will more than make up for one ruined trainer.
Ross gives me a strange sideways stare. ‘Youaremessing with me, aren’t you, Bertie?’
‘When haveIever teasedyou?’ He’s the one who rips the shit out of me.
He takes a deep breath. ‘The lambs are a few months old, they’re not little anymore.’ The frown lines on his forehead deepen. ‘That’s not the only reason you came?’
I’m not going to let him see I’m disappointed. ‘No, Ross. I’m here so I don’t have to feel guilty when you help me tonight, remember?’
Which reminds me; it’s easy to lose track of time when the wind’s blowing off the sea making the buttercups shiver in the sunlight, but I haven’t got all day. And from what I know now, it’s more important than ever that I make tonight amazing.
‘Shall we get on?’ And then I look over the next fence and see a row of sheep with black faces and droopy ears staring straight at us, stamping their feet. And not that I’m panicking, but the crowd surging behind them looks a lot like Euston on a Friday afternoon but more woolly. ‘How many are there?’
Ross lets out a sigh. ‘About thirty.’
I’m an optimist, but my heart’s faltering here. ‘The big ones are very…’
‘Big?’ Ross is nodding. ‘They’re Suffolks, but don’t worry, these ones are quiet and friendly.’
I’m not sure that’s reassuring. ‘And what are we doing?’
‘Moving them into the next field, and bringing the water tractor through with them.’ He’s biting his lip. ‘You don’t have to carry them, they walk on their own.’
And to think I was worried about broken nails. Isoshould have stayed at home making icing.
As for him making fun of me, in an ideal world that’s not how I’d have chosen for him to reconnect with his lost sense of humour. But an idea is forming that makes a smile spread right across my face – I’ve got the perfect way to get my own back on him tonight.
19
The meringue night at Comet Cove
Frizz and spinning sugar
Saturday evening
It’s a good thing this evening’s venue is only five minutes’ drive around the bay, because by the time we’ve loaded up and Ross finally pulls out of the harbour car park we should already be there.
I admit, the lateness is all down to me. With so many sheep hurtling past me earlier this afternoon, it felt more like I was on the set ofFar from the Madding Crowdthan in a meadow in St Aidan. Whatever the excuse, I forgot to do the one thing I was supposed to, which was shut the gate. As Ross drove through into the field pulling the water tank he swung the tractor around and I got distracted for a moment watching him in the cab silhouetted against the sky and the sea. Next thing I knew the whole damn flock was stampeding back to where they’d come from. Which meant we had to start all over again, except this time they’d got wise and flighty too, and put up way more resistance to our polite suggestion that they should move a few yards the other side of the fence a second time.
