Chapter 52
52
‘Orla, wake up.’
Her eyes were gritty and her cheeks felt hot as she came to and remembered where she was. Huddled up to Jacques, lying on groundsheets under a sleeping bag he had pulled from a backpack that seemed to have all the contents of a go-bag. Except she wasn’t benefitting from his body heat right now because he was stood, gently shaking her shoulder.
‘The baby is coming,’ he told her.
‘It’s not Christmas Day,’ Orla said, rushing to get out from the cover and stand.
She didn’t know why she had said that. Frances’s desperate spin to win viewers was no longer important. And Jacques had already reiterated again how reindeers gave birth in the spring and the fact that this reindeer was doing something so out of whack with nature was nothing short of a miracle.
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But it’s a birthday and we could call the baby Jesus.’
‘Inappropriate in so many ways. No.’
She got her phone from her pocket, ready to take photos. Frances had said she wanted the birth in its full gory and this was a woman who enjoyed TikToks of blackhead popping after all and was training a colleague to fit a multitude of festive sweets into his mouth…
‘She’s not sitting down,’ Orla remarked.
The reindeer was actually pacing a little and there were definitely signs of something coming from her rear end.
‘Reindeer do not sit down to give birth,’ Jacques said. ‘When they are ready to calf they actually move away from the herd, separate themselves from the others. When they do this it can be a few hours or a few days until they have the baby.’
‘Really? So, do you think she has been in this area for a while?’
‘I do not know. Maybe. See, now she is moving around again. And there, the baby is appearing more.’
‘Is everything OK do you think?’ She wanted everything to be OK and the urge to get closer, to be nearer should anything need to be done was immense.
‘Everything is OK.’
‘But can you be sure? I don’t know if I can sit here and then something bad happen. I mean the fact that the reindeer is giving birth now is very rare so what if something unexpected happens with the labour?’
‘Orla,’ he said, linking their hands. ‘I am not going to let anything happen to these reindeer. I promise you that.’
She believed him, wholeheartedly. He was not the type of person to make a promise and not intend to keep it.
‘I know what I said about the foxes but… take your photos for the magazine,’ he encouraged.
She went to use her phone again but then she stopped herself. There was something about this moment that was calling her to be present, completely present, not looking at this wondrous act of nature through the screen of a phone. The reindeer had made its way from its herd for privacy, privacy they were already invading simply by being in the vicinity. Suddenly she thought about the thousands of readers consuming this personal, special moment with their Christmas morning Buck’s Fizz and bacon sandwich. It felt like a violation of everything this birth represented – the stark, barren mountainside, a mother and child hidden amid the imposing trees, a dark starlit December night above them. It was soft and delicate and it wasn’t something she wanted to share with the masses. She put her phone away.
‘It is coming now,’ Jacques said, putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘See?’
‘Yes,’ Orla said. ‘I see.’
Holding on to Jacques, she watched as the baby reindeer fell to the snow and the mother started to lick its fur. For a second Orla held her breath as the baby didn’t move. But then it responded, wriggling its slick body and looking for attention. And, suddenly, in what she felt was a life-clarifying moment, Orla had never been so sure of what came next.