movement – the poor thing seemed lifeless. He blew into its mouth, once, twice.
‘Come on lad, you can do it.’
And there was a flicker of life, a twitch of a leg initially, then it lifted its damp woolly head, raised itself to a tentative stand and shook itself down – shocked at its arrival into the world. The mother sheep shifted across instinctively to lick it.
‘Thank you, Tom.’ Rachel found herself feeling a little emotional. Fatigue and the stress of the situation suddenly crashed in.
‘Hey, you’re welcome. Good call getting me out.’ Tom smiled.
‘I know. I was struggling. I need some stronger muscles.’ It was frustrating at times not having the physical strength that was required for the more challenging jobs on the farm.
‘Hah, now we don’t want you looking like the Hulk or anything,’ Tom joked, his dark brown eyes shining.
‘Hi, little chap.’ Rachel moved across to see the new-born lamb, who thankfully seemed fine after his ordeal coming into the world. She’d let him and his mum settle for a few minutes together and then she’d do her checks on the lamb. But just now, they all needed a breather.
‘Would you like a tea, Tom? And … I’ve got some of Mum’s sticky toffee pudding here.’
‘Now you’re talking. Well, that’s certainly worth getting up at 3 a.m. for.’ He grinned.
Rachel poured out his drink from the flask, passing over the now communal tin mug. Tom took it, his forearm smeared with muck and blood, but neither were worried about dirt and grime; it was par for the course in the lambing shed.
They sat together side by side on a straw bale.
‘God, I really appreciate you coming over.’ The relief began flooding through Rachel.
‘No worries. You know I’m here to help … any time. I’ve always said that.’ He gave her an earnest look.
‘Thanks. You’ve been so good to us.’ He was such a great family friend – had helped see them through the toughest of times. In fact, sometimes she worried he’d think they were a bit of a pain – the women from the farm next door. They tried not to pester too much, doing their best to remain self-sufficient at Primrose Farm, but tonight really had been an emergency situation.
Tom was a little older in his mid-thirties. They had known each other since childhood, though Tom had been a teenager, whizzing up and down the lane on his quad bike, when Rachel was just a small girl. He’d lived on the family farm next door virtually all his life, except when he’d got married and moved away. Then, when his father’s arthritis hit hard several years ago, his parents had moved out to a bungalow in Kirkton, allowing Tom to take over the main farmhouse and the running of the farm with his then-wife, Caitlin. They’d divorced three years ago – pretty acrimoniously, so Rachel heard – and he’d been living there as a single man ever since. They saw a lot of each other on the road and out and about, being neighbours.
‘So, how long are you on till?’ Tom asked.
‘Ah, Simon’s back at seven. A twelve-hour shift for me. I’ll see Maisy for breakfast time and then I’ll get my head down for a few hours’ sleep once she’s gone off to school.’
‘Ah, a few hours of blessed kip.’
‘Then, I’m back on again tonight.’
‘Relentless, isn’t it – lambing time. Feels never-ending. It’s only around three weeks overall and it seems like a bloody year.’
‘We’ll get there. Same every year. Like a horrid hangover, you come out of it threatening never to rear any more sheep, and then by market time you’ve forgotten how bloody awful it is and you’re tricked back into it again.’
‘Hah, yeah.’
Rachel began rummaging in the rucksack for Jill’s pudding and poured herself another mug of tea.
‘To the hardy Cheviot Hill farmers,’ she said. She raised her tin cup. ‘Cheers.’
She passed Tom a portion of the rich, treacly pudding and a plastic spoon – Mum always thought of everything.
‘And to sticky toffee pudding.’ He smiled, digging a spoon into the sponge. ‘God, this is delicious. Fuel of the hill farmers.’
‘Hah. Absolutely!’
After chatting for a while, Tom headed back to snatch a few more hours’ sleep. As she’d suspected, he had been in bed when she’d called, trying to make the most of a rare night off from the lambing shed. Rachel felt a little guilty for disturbing his night, as he’d have plenty of his own work to do on his farm today.
It wasn’t long until dawn began to break with golden morning light filtering in through the gaps in the shed door. On her own once more, Rachel dealt with another birth – a single healthy lamb who came into the world without a fuss – and soon enough, it was time to head back over to the farmhouse and her family.
Thank goodness it had all worked out in the end for that little Texel. And, looking at the clear sky above her as she walked back across the yard, thank goodness for another warm dry day. The weather this spring was being kind to them. It hadn’t always been so. She walked past the old stone stable building that was no longer used. Remembering that fateful spring morning two years ago, she felt a shudder run through her.
Maisy was already up when Rachel got back to the farmhouse. She and Jill were busy setting out the breakfast things at the large pine kitchen table. Maisy was struggling, carrying two bulky cereal boxes, and dropped them down quickly on the table as her mum appeared.
‘Mumm-eee! How’s Pete?’
‘He’s good, Maisy. He had a great night and is feeding well.’
‘Ooh, can I go feed him?’
‘After school, yes. You’ve got to get ready and have your own breakfast now.’
‘Oh, not fair.’
‘He’s already had his breakfast today, anyhow,’ Rachel added.
‘Cup of tea, love?’ Jill asked, switching the kettle back on, already knowing the answer.
‘Yes, please, I’m desperate for another brew.’
‘Has everything been all right? I thought I heard a vehicle in the early hours?’ Her mum had a frown of concern across her brow.
‘Yeah, I had to call out Tom. One of the Texels was in difficulty.’
‘Oh, did you manage okay?’ As a farmer’s wife, Jill was well aware of the problems you could experience with lambing. She had often helped out herself in the past, but lately
