Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Finally, it was their turn, and Hypatia clutched Thorn’s arm tightly, as first Belinda—‘Admire the straightness of her lines, the beauty of those spots, the thickness and purity of her colour! Belinda weighs in at thirty-five stone one pound!’—then Clyde—‘Another exceptional animal from Gadmin Hall, with a perfection of ear length, and again, that excellent coat, in marking, colour, and hair consistency, Clyde weighs in at forty-two stone and eight pound!’—were led out and shown to an extremely enthusiastic crowd.
Thorn, like her, didn’t dare breathe, or perhaps they were too caught up in the cheers and excited mutterings, not to mention the points and nods in their direction—that’s the Earl and Lady Gadmin there; at least until another three or four pigs were brought up.
And this isn’t even the most nerve-wracking part.
‘We can hold our heads high,’ Hypatia said once she’d regained some manner of breath and voice. ‘As you say, at least we made a good show of it.’
Nodding, Thorn expelled a breath, and gave her as much of a smile as he could, patting her hands, still tightly holding his arm.
Time was lost to Hypatia as the showings finished, and the judges—local magistrates, mayors, and gentlemen with no proverbial skin in the game—debated their decisions, before handing their decisions off to the presenter, who shared it with the hands who would collect and bring back up the winning swine.
‘All right, all right, settle down,’ he called, and here it was, the most nerve-wracking part of this whole expedition. Please, she prayed to nothing and everything. Please. One win. ‘Now, we’ll be the gentlemen we are, and start off with the ladies!’
‘Come on, Belinda,’ Hypatia muttered.
‘With a most excellent shape, and nigh-perfect features, our meritorious mention goes to Jilly of Thimble Farm!’
Cheers, and applause met that pronouncement; Jilly—a beautiful sow with a picture-perfect pinkish white coat—was brought back up, whilst her owner went up to shake the judges’ hands, bow for the crowd, and lead Jilly off.
‘Come on Belinda…’
‘Our winner today, demonstrating true character, excellence of breeding, and the full potential in all characteristics, notably that sunnily sandy coat is Wyn, of Dashdown Estate!’
Hypatia’s heart fell, though she tried to tell herself it was nothing, and they still had a chance. Thorn held her tighter to him despite the growing heat, whilst the same process was repeated again.
‘All right, Clyde,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all up to you now, we believe in you.’
‘Moving on to the gents now! Our meritorious mention is a striking example from Berkshire,’ the presenter called, and Hypatia would not lose hope until the final name was said. Come on, Clyde… ‘Alfie, from Kithrow Manor!’
The cheers, the handshaking, the applause, and the lead-out.
‘Come on, Clyde,’ Thorn muttered, and Hypatia felt something change then inside her, though she had neither the time, nor the mind to study it.
Later. For now, COME ON, CLYDE!
‘Our winner today, the undisputed favourite of our judges, and a real treat to see as we’ve not quite had such a specimen in years…’
‘Come on, Clyde…’
‘This beast of a boar, Clyde from Gadmin Hall! What a spectacular first entry from this farm!’
It wasn’t until hundreds of eyes turned to them expectantly, and she saw him up there, gorgeous, wonderful Clyde, that Hypatia felt the impact, and the truth of their win.
Turning to Thorn disbelieving, she watched as the realisation washed over him too, though shock kept them still for instants, or minutes—she certainly didn’t know—and then tears were falling, and he was holding her in a tight embrace, rocking her, as hands patted their backs, and encouraged them up.
‘Go on,’ Thorn whispered, urging her up, and she shook her head.
‘Together.’
Hesitating for some reason she would ask him about later, he took a moment before nodding, and letting her drag him up.
It was a blur as they repeated the actions of the others—shaking hands, taking a bow, receiving a little ribbon to show their accomplishment—before leading Clyde, good, excellent boy that he was, back down and to the holding pens.
Danny was waiting for them, and they embraced and shook his hand, congratulations flying around like shards of gold.
Others came too—farmers, buyers, and so on—to chat, to congratulate, to share in the revelry, and Hypatia lost herself in that until it was time for Clyde to be taken away for the auction.
Knowing she likely wouldn’t get the chance again, she knelt down, and hugged Clyde tightly.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered to him. ‘You will not be forgotten, wherever your journey takes you from here.’
He snorted in her ear, and she laughed, tears streaming again as she released him, and watched him go.
‘I’ll go, if you don’t wish to,’ Thorn offered, slipping his hand into hers. ‘Why don’t you take Danny, get something to drink to celebrate. I’ll bring news when it’s done.’
‘Yes, perhaps that’s better,’ she said, wondering when her heart had become too sore to watch what Belinda and Clyde’s fates would be. ‘We’ll meet you by those Italian puppeteers.’
Thorn threw her a smile, and nodded, before disappearing towards the auction tent.
As she did, she had the queerest feeling that it was a presage of some sort, before reminding herself that she believed in no such things, and she was just overwhelmed, and so she and Danny went to find some delicious cider, and wait for Thorn by the puppeteers.