Chapter Fifteen

 

"Where are Bea and Ramona?"

As soon as Nancy had dropped her off, Hannah had run in a dead heat from the rear seat of the car to the little pen attached to the old drying shelter, where the two sheep used to be kept. She needed only one glance to see that the pen was empty. Lucy could tell she was alarmed. Her jaw had dropped in a rare speechless moment for the little girl.

"They're in a bigger one," said Lucy. "Look." She pointed towards the new enclosure, where the two sheep were grazing. As if sensing they were the topic of conversation, Bea lifted her head, gazing towards Lucy.

Hannah ran to the new fence, standing on tiptoe to look over the top. Liam followed on her heels — until then, he had been busy making a snack for Llarry, which involved meticulously layering old garden greens with little dandelions for mustard.

Hannah turned. "Why?' she said to Lucy.

"They were too crowded," said Lucy.

"Oh." Hannah thought about it, then seemed to accept it as logical. "Will they let us pet them now?" she asked.

"Not yet. They're shy," said Lucy.

"Hullo!!" Liam waved to the sheep. His voice was pitched loud, as it often was, since he had a difficult time hearing.

"Hullo!" Hannah chimed in with her 'outdoor voice', which was several decibels louder than her polite one, but not quite a scream.

They took turns trying to outdo each other in a shouting match. Lucy moved further away, tucking her hands in her pockets. Like herself, the sheep seemed unimpressed. Ramona looked up from nibbling some clover momentarily, stems dangling past her chin, then went back to eating.

"Liam, stop that," called Fran. She waved a finger warningly at her son when he turned around. With a sullen expression, Liam put his head down and scuffed his trainer in the dirt.

"I think we could all do with a little less shouting," said Fran. "Think of the poor sheep, it's a wonder they haven't run off to the other side of their pen where you can't see them."

Her tone must be one universal to all mothers, Lucy thought, because Hannah seemed to take this hint also. There were no more screams in the direction of the sheep. Fran's smile in Lucy's direction seemed like one meant to be secretive — like conspirators who know the real meaning of a coded message, Lucy felt. The grown-up code of double meanings versus face value, maybe.

"Are Bea and Ramona not going to live with the other animals?" Hannah asked. "The llamas and the donkeys live together, but they're all alone. Why? Can't they live in the barn, too?"

Explaining the health issues of sheep with parasites seemed too difficult. "The barn would be very crowded," Lucy pointed out. "They wouldn't be happy. Sheep want to mow green fields. They don't want to play with other animals the way llamas do."

Liam tugged at her sleeve. "Wha-abou Llarry?" he demanded.

She knew he was asking about the practice. She had promised Liam and Hannah that they could watch Llarry go through his paces for the competition. "Okay," she nodded. "We can go now."

Hannah processed this reply, and jumped up and down with excitement. She ran ahead of everyone else to the corral, where the llamas were nibbling at some greens Lucy had given Liam for feeding them. The sight of the children caused Philomena's ears to perk. Fiona sauntered closer, sniffing them in greeting.

Lucy went inside the pen and went into the barn. She took the leash from the nail and brought it out, snapping the shiny silver clip onto Llarry's chain collar. He became alert, waiting for her next move.

She led him forward, anti-clockwise around the pen, as both of the children watched from the fence. They cheered when Llarry passed them, and Hannah waved both hands, almost slipping from the fence until Fran caught hold of her by the tulle skirt's bow.

Llarry took it in stride, with a gentle pace that seemed rather like floating. His wispy wool coat created that effect, Lucy thought. It made him look graceful.

After the third loop, she led him towards the makeshift 'maze' in the pen, which Simon had suggested making so Llarry could practice the real version. It was only a plastic table and some straw bales set at angles, with some boards used to make barrier rails. It had only taken one try for Llarry to realize this was supposed to be some kind of angled corridor they were walking in. Lucy felt rather like he was indulging her by walking it, some good-natured gesture for a human's very silly idea.

They came around the last turn, made by a sideways chair from the old shed, and circled the corral again, this time clockwise. Lucy really wasn't certain which way the animals would parade through the real one. It probably didn't matter.

"Llarry is brilliant! He's — a—mazing," said Hannah, who found her own pun hilarious. "Can I try walking him through the maze? Can I? I would be really really good at finding the way out. I can tell."

"Llarry is de best," said Liam. He was beaming at the llama, which was nuzzling his face as it sniffed of him, letting the little boy stroke the wool of its long neck, almost hugging it.

"He's going to be the champion," said Hannah, confidently. "None of the others will have even practiced, probably. They don't have a proper maze." She looked up at Lucy. "Can I try it? Can I?"

"You can both try," said Lucy to Hannah. "You can take turns." Fran opened the gate, and Lucy handed the reins to Liam, letting him go first, since Llarry was his favorite. Hannah trailed along behind, ducking underneath one of the boards to cut ahead to the end, as if scouting out the best route.

"What made you decide to do this?" Fran asked.

Lucy tried to explain, finding she was at a loss for words. The part about the shop and the videos and the plans to make fair day bigger were still very complicated to explain, and she was no better at it today than when Arthur Elliot had asked. "I thought it would be a good thing to do," she said. "It wouldn't be hard to walk him around the ring. He likes walking on a lead."

"He's certainly good at being in a crowd," said Fran. "I was only surprised that you were doing it. It's the sort of thing that local people do to be silly, mostly kids dressing up pets and doing it with their mum or dad. I once thought about doing it with Liam, if we ever bring home a dog."

"Simon said Llarry could win a blue ribbon," said Lucy. "Afterwards, I saw the flier for the animal competition in the shop. I thought when he comes back, there might be something to show him, even if it's only a photo." She hoped for a participation ribbon of some kind, which would make Llarry's effort look more impressive.

"Poor Simon needs something to believe in," said Fran. "Patrick thinks the treatment isn't working as well as the doctors hoped. They moved up Simon's appointment this past week. I expect they plan to do more tests and see if he's still responding."

If not, that meant the treatments were not working, Lucy knew. She remembered the medical terminology the hospital's doctor used when talking about her emergency care. It seemed very detached from the situation, a mild way of saying something that was usually much more serious, so the brain could not process the true meaning at first.

"I feel for Patrick if they change things midstream," said Fran. "It was agony last time. Each of Simon's first two rounds hospitalized him for weeks, and Patrick was almost destitute because he closed his shop the entire time. He'd been really hopeful that this latest one was the best option for Simon because it seemed less difficult for him to tolerate. Unless they've found something better, which is what I hope is true."

"Maybe." Lucy imagined that the doctors sometimes approached decisions with caution, even if they seemed like they were for the best. Even something as simple as changing a prescription could be very complicated.

"I should ring him next week and see if they've told him anything about the plan. I still have to finish the books the law practice in Thirsk dropped off in a rush, I suppose to avoid some sort of government enquiry," Fran continued. "It's been absolutely mad lately. My only saving grace has been sending Liam to school — at home, he tears about the house pretending he's a zoo animal, like in the cartoon he's dead obsessed with at present."

Hannah had taken over the reins, a princess at the head of a regal procession. Llarry was now being forced to traverse the maze in reverse, deftly avoiding a board shoved out of place by accident earlier. Liam was trotting behind, skipping along in his superhero-themed trainers, then practicing some action kicks against the boards like a ninja warrior in action.

"Liam, don't damage Lucy's stuff," called Fran. "Really, he can't leave anything alone for five minutes' time. It must be something about how the male brain works."

Perhaps it was an ancient instinct in boys, thought Lucy. Neanderthal and Paleolithic ancestors with clubs and crude stone tools, hacking away at things, throwing rocks and pointy sticks. There would not have been as much time for cave murals when one's next meal was still high in the trees or running around in the wilds.

 

~~~

 

Every day for the past few weeks, Lucy had walked Llarry around the imaginary fun fair ring, and through the little maze of obstacles. Most of the time without an audience of impressed children, and with only the geese watching, who seemed much more skeptical.

Doubts inside her were beginning to overtake the bravado. In front of the mirror each morning, she practiced looking confident, and smiling, until it faded into a much more serious, worried version of her everyday face.

You are going to do this. She made herself promise this. The life coach from the online motivational stream said that making a promise to yourself should feel as important as making a promise to another person. Just saying the words could make it feel like the change had already happened.

Lucy didn't feel it yet. It must take more practice to reach that point in the process. For now, all she could do was create a facsimile. First, she would walk Llarry around the ring and try not to make a mistake. Then she would look into the expansion plans for fair day more earnestly.

Improvement in one's self was not a lift, it was a bumpy lane, as the life coach explained it.

She led Llarry in the circle again, getting used to the new leash's feel. The llama did not need any coaxing, not even when she turned into the special course, which was beginning to get a bit disheveled in its construction.

'Round the table, through the straw walls, turn at the old saw horse and folding chair's detour. Back around the circle, then through the course one more time, with Lucy trying not to bump into the old chair leaning into her path.

She was afraid of herself taking the wrong step. She was the reason to worry that this would become a humiliating mistake. What if she tripped and fell down a few steps around the ring. It might hold up the entire procession. What if she turned the wrong way in the obstacle course? What if she froze just before it was time to go out, and simply stood there, holding onto Llarry's leash, until it was too late?

It gave her cold sweats. She woke up once after having a terrible dream about Llarry disappearing and her being left standing with an empty leash. Dreams about loss supposedly projected one's fear of vulnerability.

She resorted to taking two of her anxiety pills afterwards, and curled up again beneath the duvet, listening to the sound of a mouse exploring among the wastebasket paper wads. It rustled gently among the mistakes made in sketching Llarry trying to taste a chocolate 'lava' cake that erupted like a real volcano when cut.

She felt somewhat better. It was going to be okay. She simply had to try, and that was all. The only part of any decision that was really frightening was the unknown on the other side.