Chapter Four

 

Lots of online shops had unique personalities, either behind them or as their public face, Lucy noticed. The shop that sold 'organically-grown wool', for instance, had videos which toured the farm and showed children playing in piles of wool. The shop with the eclectic kinds of fuzzy homespun yarn had a hedgehog mascot.

She could write and post biographies for the animals. Not their real ones, of course, because of the story books, but maybe something incognito. She should do something like that. If she put pictures of the animals and the farm, people would probably like it. Videos of llamas being brushed and trimmed.

Putting on her boots, she took her phone and went outside. The llamas were resting outside their barn. Dimitri the donkey was in the sunshine, his tail swatting lazily at imaginary insects.

Llarry was the easiest to photograph. He had a tendency to stand still, as if pondering things, which gave his picture a portrait quality. Dimitri was next. His portrait looked like a stuffed toy up close. Philomena was not hard to photograph, but Fiona kept moving her head, ruining Lucy's angle just when it looked good.

The baby llamas were in constant motion, but she finally managed to get a picture of each one separately, and without any blurry legs or head movement.

Kenny flew up on the garden wall, flapping his wings with importance. She photographed him also. He looked very majestic.

An artistic filter on her computer generated the photos as little thumbnail images, circle-style portraits. She gave them all silly titles, like 'Chief Herdsmen' for Llarry, and 'Quality Control Supervisor' for Philomena. 'Company Clown' for Fiona — 'Barnyard Inspector' for Kenny. That way she did not have to use their names, or draw cross-references between the shop and her stories.

She had made a video the previous evening, using the new backlight ring for the phone. It was a simple close-up of her hands needle sculpting one of the spotted mushrooms from beginning to finish.

It took several hours and three different videos to generate the right content to edit together a seamless video showing the technique. It turned out well-lit — even the grains of the scuffed old table looked visually interesting. She edited the footage together and sped the video's time, so it seemed as if she made it in a mere minute's time.

She started work on another llama that evening — an alpaca pattern she had sketched herself. It looked a little like Newton, only with ordinary legs. Maybe she would make both of the little ones and sell them as a set. If she ever generated any sales, that is.

Just for practice, she posted her first video of candid footage, one of Kenny hopping up on the garden wall and crowing. He strutted around, then Llarry came into view. The llama sneezed loudly. It looked almost like he was scoffing at the performance.

She posted it to the social media accounts. It seemed like a good start to her.

An idea for the next book had come to her, all about Llarry and the fair days. Only with a real fair, a fun fair with a rides park and spun sugar and maybe competitions for things, like at a village fete.

She had never been to a real fair, but had seen them on telly and knew from books what people liked to do at them. Llarry would go with all of his friends, of course. There would be a fun house with mirrors, and stalls with caramel apples.

In her sketch book, she drew the animals on a roller coaster, in different poses of excitement, with Kenny flapping his wings in terror. She drew spinning teacups and striped marquees, party flags and prizes. Big pink stuffed bunnies and oversized sunglasses on display.

 

~~~

 

Part of the brambly patch behind the old garden shed turned out to be a blueberry bush in the midst of other things. Tiny, sharp blue beads all over it, beneath the scraggly green foliage which had come on in place of some bright autumnal leaves turned to brown curls, still clinging on in some places. The brush of Lucy's hand disintegrated them.

She experimented with a batch of muffins. Someone had posted a recipe with blueberries, dried currants, and cinnamon spice added. It tasted very different. After eating a second one, this one with blueberry jam instead of honey butter, Lucy decided she liked them. They were good enough to share.

Rabbit Run Farm had a weather-worn metal fox attached to its gate, with a hole drilled for its eye. It was in a running position, as if pursuing the many rabbits that hopped through the wood and up the lane. The old dog that lived at Clement's didn't bother to chase. It only laid outside in the sun, forcing the flocks of geese and ducks to go around it in the yard.

"Dunno what you brung them for. I get my stuff at the shops and it's decent enough," said Clement. He was patching a tire in the yard, and made her leave the bundle of muffins on the bonnet of his old truck. "It'll do well enough for me, I don't need the fancy sort that people get at that no-gluten all-vegetarian bakes shop on the high street."

"They were extras," said Lucy. It was a little bit of a lie, which was unusual for her. For one thing, Lucy was not very good at lying. "I meant to give you something after you brought the geese, but I didn't. Then it was Christmas. So I brought something now instead."

"Mmph." Clement made a noise in the back of his throat. "I reckon that's like everyone else. Always settling the score, usually because they need something. You need something or you'd have let bygones be bygone." He had one of those grins that Lucy thought were supposed to be ironic, that probably came when he felt a bit smug. She had a coworker in Reading once, an I.T. programmer, who had that sort of look whenever he knew people in the office wanted a favor from him.

She felt embarrassed. "I need to borrow some fencing materials for the sheep," she said.

"Sheep? Got some of them now, do you?" Clement said, interestedly. His own sheep were grazing in a nearby fenced-in clearing. Shaggy brownish ones mixed in with white wool, white face, all looking hale and hearty. Her two would look very pitiful next to them.

"Only two that needed rehomed," she said. "They're for shearing."

"Harvesting wool for little crafts and knitting, are you? Like Joseph used to do, only he had a nice little flock of 'em, used to have me come out to help him in lambing season after the rheumatism took hold. Always bottle fed the orphans and abandoned ones." Clement sprayed the tire with soapy water.

"I need to make a bigger enclosure," she said. "I have them in a small pen, but it won't be good for the long term."

"Good-sized field, that's what you'll be needing if you make a go of a flock," he said. "Get a ram by, you'll triple the number in a season."

"Probably not." Lucy felt embarrassed again. Ashamed of confession. "They're not good stock. That's what the farm told me. They're more of the pet sort of livestock."

"Eh." Clement looked displeased. "That sort. For the kids to pat and play with, I reckon." He spritzed the tire again, turning it. "Have a spot in mind already for putting them?"

She nodded. "I marked it out already." She used little flag stakes, from a bundle found in the shed. Like dozens of miniature golf holes in a row, she thought, when she looked back.

"I've got some sheep netting going spare, should be enough or a decent start, either one," said Clement. "I haven't used it since the last heavy lambing season — took down all the old pens after deciding I was getting on in years for cold spring mornings of birthing emergencies."

He stopped spritzing, as bubbles formed between the tire's tread. "I'll bring it 'round for you sometime."