Chapter 4 #2
I unclipped my seatbelt and angled myself against the window so I could see better.
It was a lamb.
It looked like the poor little thing was all alone.
Evan shuffled in his seat, but his eyes remained closed.
I flicked a look into my rear-view mirror. There was a car making its way over the brow of the hill behind us.
I turned my attention back to the lamb.
The cute little ball of fluff had edged away from the trees and was getting closer to the road. Oh no! If it shot out, it wouldn’t stand a chance against the traffic, and it would soon be dark.
I yanked open my driver side door.
The noise of it must have disturbed Evan. He shot up straighter. ‘What ‘s going on?’
I whipped round in my seat.
He rubbed his eyes. ‘Where are we?’
‘We’re almost at Ambleside.’
I turned back to check that the lamb hadn’t got closer to the road.
Evan let out a big yawn and stretched his arms above his head. His shirt lifted, exposing a smattering of dark hair and taut stomach. I pretended not to notice.
When he yawned again, this time making a louder noise, I shoved my finger to my lips. ‘Sssh! You’ll frighten it!’
Evan looked at me, confused. ‘What?’
But I knew I didn’t have time to explain as another car was glinting over the hill on its way towards us.
I scrambled out of Marlene and left my driver side door open. I straightened my T-shirt and started to edge my way towards the lamb, who was eyeing me with a mixture of fear and suspicion.
Evan was staring across from the passenger side, as though I’d lost all leave of my senses.
‘Here, cutie. It’s ok,’ I soothed.
‘I bet you’re not talking to me.’
I snapped my head round and rammed my finger to my lips again. The baby sheep was like a blob of cotton wool with a black patch over one eye and a curly-wurley tail. The furball took a couple of faltering steps backwards.
Behind me, more cars zipped past on the country road. Darkness was beginning to close down now, giving the trees an eerie, long-shadowed silhouette.
I crouched down a few feet away, the grass brushing against the knees of my jeans. ‘Come on, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you.’
The lamb made a couple of nervous bleats.
‘Daisy!’ hissed Evan from the car. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
I looked back. ‘Shush! You’ll see in a minute,’ I whispered. If the poor thing got spooked, it could take off into the road.
Very gently, I outstretched one hand.
The lamb eyed me and my extended hand with an element of caution. I noticed as he moved that he had what looked like either the letter S or a figure eight on his right flank in light blue spray.
After a few moments of inspecting my hand, he moved closer and closer, until I was able to reach out and stroke him.
I glided my hand down his small, white, downy back. ‘It’s ok. I won’t hurt you.’ Giving him another few strokes, I managed to then pick him up, cradled him in my arms and carried him back to my car.
The warm, marmalade glow of the day seemed like a distant memory now. The Lake District darkness was inky black, and the stars were peppered across the sky like scattered seeds.
Evan’s mouth dropped open as I juggled the lamb and me into the driver’s side. I handed the lamb over to him and closed the door.
Evan stared in horror down at the lamb, who was peering back up at him. He gawped across at me. ‘What the hell?!’
I let out a bark of laughter at the sight of Evan holding the little animal, as though it were some alien life force. ‘Well, I can’t take care of him while I’m driving, can I?’
I negotiated our way back out onto the road, and we set off again.
I nodded over. ‘There’s a smudged blue marking not far from his tail on his right side. That must be which farm he belongs to, so we should be able to find out which one.’
Evan’s gaze was incredulous. His eyes glinted with disbelief out of the darkness.
Only the lights from my dashboard were lighting up the angles of his features.
‘Are you serious? It’s after nine o’clock on a Saturday night, and you want to play detective and locate Farmer Barley mow?
’ The lamb wobbled as he sat on Evan’s lap and seemed fascinated by him, giving him prolonged gazes.
‘We’re in the middle of the bloody lakes, Daisy!
There must be dozens upon dozens of farms around here. ’
I focused on the taillights of the car in front. ‘Yes, but they all won’t be using that colour of paint on their flock, will they?’
Evan shook his head. ‘I don’t believe this.’
The surrounding hills were rising and falling like dark, slumbering giants.
‘Oh, look! A pub!’ I erupted, pointing over to the right?hand side, to where a lit-up, cosy-looking public house with lattice-style windows was crouched further back from the road.
Frothing spring flowers were bursting out of hanging baskets either side of the glowing entrance. A couple of cars in the parking area shone under the spray of stars.
‘Don’t tell me you want to take Shaun the Sheep for a drink?’ ground out Evan. He waited for me to kill the engine and, as soon as I did so, bundled the lamb back over to me.
I gave him a sarcastic look.
‘Because if he doesn’t want one, I do.’ He adjusted his suit jacket. ‘I feel like I’m in a Monty Python sketch.’
I tutted at his sarcasm. ‘What did you expect me to do? Just ignore Pirate and let him be mowed down?’
‘Pirate?’ echoed Evan. ‘Who the hell is Pirate?’
‘Well, it’s not a nickname I’ve conjured up for you.’ I could think of a few, but they aren’t polite ones, I concluded darkly to myself.
I gave the lamb a gentle squeeze as he nestled in my arms. ‘I think he looks like a sweet little pirate, with that black patch over his eye.’
Evan groaned. ‘Oh my God… I really am in a Monty Python sketch.’
I ignored him. ‘I thought if we took him into the pub, someone might recognise that blue mark on him and know which farm he comes from.’
‘I need that drink more than ever now,’ murmured Evan, although I thought I detected a faint smile teasing his mouth for a second. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, so I wasn’t sure.
He clambered out of the passenger side while I retrieved my bag from the back seat and slung it on, all while juggling Pirate in my arms. He seemed to have become used to being carted around.
I locked up Marlene and hurried to catch up with Evan who was stalking ahead across the pub car park in his designer suit. Pirate bumped gently in my arms.
The gold wooden sign creaked over our heads, proclaiming the pub’s name to be The Lake and Lantern.
Evan frowned down at Pirate in my arms. ‘Are we really doing this?’
I scowled up at him while rubbing Pirate’s head. ‘Of course. Unless you want me to drop you back at that dark woodland, and I’ll take this little bundle onwards to Scotland with me.’
Evan rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t doubt you’re serious.’
I could feel Pirate’s little piston of a heart bumping against my chest. ‘Believe me, the more I see of some people, the more I like animals. They love you unconditionally, and they don’t lie to you or let you down.’
Evan gave me a long look. ‘Not everyone’s like that, Daisy.’
I arched one cynical brow. ‘I’ve yet to be convinced.’
He straightened his shirt collar. ‘A journalist, an actor and a sheep go into a pub. That’s the start of a joke.’ The amber glimmer from inside the pub slid down his compelling features. I turned my attention back to Pirate and gave him a reassuring squeeze.
‘I just hope I don’t bump into anyone I know,’ grumbled Evan, pushing one of the double doors.
‘I think that’s unlikely.’
The three of us stepped inside to be greeted by a handful of customers propping up the polished, semi-circular bar.
It was all velvet green, cushioned chairs and booths, brass ornaments and dramatic black and white framed photographs of Lake Windermere, Coniston and Derwent Water adorning the walls.
It wasn’t packed out for a Saturday night, but a couple of the cosy booths were occupied by patrons.
I gave Pirate another stroke.
A few of the drinkers, who were casually arranged around the bar, turned to see who’d just stepped inside. Evan dropped his voice. ‘I’ve seen horror films that start like this.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake,’ I complained out of the corner of my mouth. ‘Do you ever say anything positive?’
Not waiting for his pithy reply, I gathered my confidence and strode up to the bar with Pirate cradled in both my arms, as though this was no unusual occurrence on a Saturday night in these parts.
‘What would you both like?’ beamed the man behind the bar. He had a shiny, red face and a thin, fair combover.
Evan stepped up beside me and moved to speak.
‘I was talking to the lady and the lamb,’ he joked.
I guessed that was his punchline, so I laughed. I ruffled Pirate behind one ear.
Evan jumped in and asked for a pint of Guinness. He turned to me. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Just a fresh orange juice, please. I’m driving, remember?’
‘And your friend?’ persisted the barman, gesturing to Pirate. ‘Would he like a baaa supper?’
The barman chuckled at his own joke. I pushed out a smile. Pirate was providing this middle-aged man with an endless supply of chronic one-liners that I’d expect to find in a Christmas cracker.
While the barman fetched our drinks, I ignored the quizzical looks from a few other punters. I nudged Evan. ‘My purse is in the front pocket of my bag. Can you fetch it for me, please?’
Evan shook his head. ‘This is on me, even though you’ve made us late getting to our accommodation because of Shaun here.’
‘Thank you. I think. Oh, and it’s not Shaun. It’s Pirate.’
Evan offered the lamb a withering look. ‘Stupid me. Yes, of course it is.’
The barman set down Evan’s pint of rich brown Guinness and my orange juice, complete with a paper straw. He accepted Evan’s credit card and put it through the machine.
‘I wondered if you might be able to help?’ I asked him, adjusting the dozy Pirate in my arms.
The barman handed Evan’s credit card back to him. ‘Yes, I’ll try to help if I can.’