Chapter 27 Summer
TWENTY-SEVEN
SUMMER
Ifind the two men surrounded by sheep in one of the east paddocks. Cameron is stooped next to a ewe, and Fraser is calling orders to Scout. The sheepdog is sweeping around the herd, trying to pull it into the centre of the field. I hang back, not sure if I should join them.
Fraser turns and sees me, and a brilliant grin spreads across his face. “London!” He waves me over. “Come join the chaos.”
I push open the gate and pick my way through the sheep. Fraser slings an arm around me, kissing the top of my head. “How nice of you to come visit us,” he murmurs into my hair. “You okay, baby? You look a bit nervy.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him.
Cameron straightens, eyeing me flatly. “Why are you here?” he demands. “You’ve never come to the fields before.”
“Just fancied some fresh air,” I say brightly, looking around me. “What’s going on?” The sheep seem a lot more rambunctious than usual. Several lambs are chasing each other, and quite a few appear to be trying to escape. “Everyone’s very…lively.”
Fraser laughs. “Aye, it’s the babies’ first time at pasture, so they’re losing their minds a wee bit.” He watches a couple of little black rams roll over each other in the grass. “Dafties.”
I look for Crumpet, but I can’t see her amidst the milling animals.
“Your wee one’s over there, hiding under her mum,” Cameron says, pointing to Viola happily chewing grass a few feet away. Crumpet peeks out from between Viola’s legs. She’s a third of the size of the other lambs.
I kneel down and smile at her. “I didn’t realise how tiny she was,” I say. “How’s she doing?”
“Not well,” Cameron says bluntly. “She’s barely eating, and Viola has the maternal instincts of a brick.
” As I watch, Crumpet notices me and stumbles a few steps closer.
Viola sticks out her face and shoves her to the ground.
Crumpet stands up again determinedly, taking a few more steps. Again, Viola knocks her into the mud.
My chest hurts. “It’s like she hates her.”
“Aye,” Fraser says. “It’s a pity, really. Crumpet is a shy one, and she needs her mammy. We were hoping the change of scenery might mellow Viola out, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”
“So what happens now? Can you put her with another mother?”
“Nah, the ewe would just think Crumpet is trying to steal her milk. Trying out the paddock is usually a turning point. Hopefully, Viola will accept her. Worse-case scenario, she’ll become violent.”
My head jerks up. “What?”
He grimaces. “It happens when a mum gets really irritated. In that case, we’d have to bring Crumpet into the house until she’s bigger. She’s too weak to be alone.”
“Oh.” For some reason, my eyes burn.
A shadow falls over me. “Summer.” Cameron scowls down at me. “Why are you here?”
“I can go if you want.”
He shifts his weight off his leg. “Stay. Just tell me why you’re here.”
“My head is being loud,” I say honestly.
He considers that for a moment and then opens his jacket and pulls out a brown paper bag. “You want a job? Sheep nuts. Shake the bag and distract the ewes so we can keep an eye on the babies.”
I’m pretty sure sitting on the floor and shaking a bag is a made-up job, but I take it anyway. When I open the bag, the feed smells green and sweet. I rustle it experimentally.
Within seconds, I am surrounded by a ring of fluffy adult sheep, all staring at me intently.
“You can hand-feed them,” Cameron adds. “They won’t bite.”
I pour some feed into my hand. Viola is the first to push forwards, snuffling the pellets right off my palm. The other sheep start to jostle for a turn. One licks my ear, making me laugh. As I scoop out more food, I notice Crumpet creeping closer to me.
“She’s obsessed with you,” Fraser notes, amused. “Thinks you’re her mum.”
Well, at least a sheep likes me. I quickly gather Crumpet up and plop her in my lap. She sticks her nose in the crook of my elbow, and I feel a weight lift off my chest.
We stay in the paddock for the rest of the morning. I pet Crumpet and feed the ewes, and Fraser and Cameron watch over the lambs as they explore. As the sun arcs overhead, the adrenaline slowly leaches out of me. It’s hard to have a nervous breakdown when cute animals are climbing all over you.
Eventually, Fraser checks his phone and whistles for Scout. “That’s enough for one morning. Alec says he’s made food. Leave the wee one with us, and we’ll join you in a few.”
I jolt to attention. If Alec’s made lunch, he must be done with his call. I can check my apology post. I settle Crumpet carefully on the grass and jump to my feet. “See you there.” I practically run out of the field.
“Christ. She must be hungry,” I hear Fraser mumble behind me.
As soon as I get back inside the farmhouse, I reconnect my phone to the internet. My heart thuds in my chest as I pull up my apology. It already has thousands of comments. The words swim as I scan through them.
You were overwhelmed? From taking pictures of yourself?
Bestie maybe just log off if social media is so hard for you xx
I knew she’d play the victim card. YOU CRIED OVER A LIPSTICK LMAO
This is so unbelievably pathetic. You should just die.
I feel like I’ve been hit.
You should just die.
Oh…
“Summer.”
I jump and spin around. Alec is in front of me, arms crossed.
“Are you joining us for lunch?” he asks exasperatedly. He sounds like he’s asked me multiple times.
“Er…” I look back down at the screen.
I genuinely cannot deal with influencers. This is so out of touch.
You know, I used to like her. But having the nerve to say she’s overwhelmed when her job is so easy has really put me off.
brING BACK PUBLIC EXECUTION
Oh God. They’re right. The apology was terrible. I’m terrible.
“Summer,” Alec repeats, sounding annoyed.
“Um. I’m not hungry,” I tell him, backing up. Suddenly, the lights feel too bright, and my skirt is too tight. It feels like some massive pressure is rising up inside me, trying to burst out.
“And can you please try and clean your things up?” Alec asks stiffly, gesturing at my blouse still crumpled on the floor. “It’s distracting.”
“Right. Sorry.” I grab it, still backing away. I can’t breathe.
Alec pauses, his face changing. “Summer?”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble and run down the corridor back to the guest room. My eyes are burning, and I scrub them furiously.
I will not cry. God, this is so silly. I need to be tougher than this. I keep scrolling through the comments. There’s the odd nice one, but they’re overwhelmingly negative.
Shallow. Entitled. Oversensitive. Pathetic. Out of touch.
People hate me. They hate me. I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out the light of the room.
I can hear the buzz of a mower outside the open window, and it’s so overwhelming I can’t think.
I jam my hands over my ears. I want to smack something until it breaks.
I want to shatter a bone. I want to hide in a dark hole and disappear. I feel like I’m bursting at the seams.
In the back of my mind, I can hear my old therapist’s calm voice.
Emotional flooding is a common symptom of ADHD overwhelm.
It’s not your fault. It’s how you’re wired.
You need to learn to deescalate strong emotions.
She’d tell me to do breathing exercises. To look around the room and name five red objects. The idea is so pathetic it feels laughable. Doing a breathing exercise right now would be like trying to cork up the sea.
People hate me. I can’t survive this.
There’s a knock at the door. “Summer,” Alec calls through the wood. I jump like I’ve heard a gunshot. My phone clatters to the floor.
“I’m fine,” I croak, dropping to my knees to pick it up. It would probably be more convincing if I didn’t sound like a dying toad. My breath hitches, and I can’t help the sob that rises out of me.
There’s a pause, then Alec says, “I’m opening the door.”