14. Smelling a Sheep’s Foot
Chapter 14
Smelling a Sheep’s Foot
T here was a loud knock at the front door. It was shortly after half-past-eight in the morning. Matt was upstairs. A lump of anxiety swelled in Amy’s throat.
‘Matt, I think Diane’s here early!’ Amy yelled up the stairs, as she hastened to the front door, nearly falling over the edge of the rug in her hurry. She hadn’t envisaged welcoming Diane without Matt, but he was busy trying to move all his things out of the double bedroom, so no questions would be asked when Diane arrived. Amy wished he’d had time to finish before that knock on the door. She would have to stall Diane down here with a cup of coffee until Matt was ready, but she hadn’t even lit the fire: the living room was cold and would get colder when she opened the door. She felt ridiculously like crying. Taking a deep breath she pulled open the heavy old front door, trying to exude a sense of warmth and welcome she didn’t feel. She let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Diane on the other side of the door but Peter, with two sheepdogs at his heels.
‘Oh Peter, it’s you. Come on in,’ she said.
He was in a heavy pair of boots, and an ancient green waxed jacket. The Thompson family all dressed in the same way – slate-grey tweeds, bracken-brown jumpers and much-worn coats the same colour as the winter fields. The blended into the landscape around them, part of the countryside as much as the rocks and the streams.
‘I’ll stop out here, my feet are clarty. Mam said your lads would like to see the dogs working.’
‘Harry would. He asked if we could find you this morning.’
‘I’m just headed up the dale. Dad spotted a ewe with a bad foot yesterday, and I want to try and find her. Thought your lads might like to help, especially as it’s too cold to take poor old Jen for a walk today. She’s settled in her basket.’
Harry rushed through from the kitchen.
‘Can I, Mam? Can I please?’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ Amy said to Peter. ‘He can sometimes get distracted, and if you’re not used to kids …’
‘He’ll have to do as he’s told. Can you do that, young man?’
Harry nodded vehemently.
‘Get your boots on then, lad. What about the other one?’
‘Oliver, do you want to go and help Mr Thompson find a poorly sheep?’ Amy called through to the kitchen.
‘No thank you. I’m waiting for my Granny.’ He’d been watching down the lane for her since before eight o’clock. Harry rushed through to the downstairs cloakroom where he stamped his feet into his walking boots and threw all the winter coats on the floor trying to find his own.
Amy re-tied Harry’s boots, which he’d haphazardly knotted, and made sure he had his gloves on. ‘Be sensible. Listen to Mr Thompson and do exactly what he says. Make yourself useful.’ She looked up at Peter. ‘Perhaps I should come, to make sure he’s not too much of a handful.’
‘He’s a big lad. We’ll manage. It’ll do him good. Come on then. Harry, my lad. You can call me Peter, none of that Mr Thompson stuff if we’re working together. We’ll be back in an hour or two, shouldn’t take too long. And if he’s good maybe he can help again.’
She watched the two of them walk up the path towards the fields at the head of the valley, the dogs following at their heels. How strange it was to think that if her mam had married Peter all those years ago, that might have been her life – heading up the valley with Peter and the dogs to check on a lame sheep on a frosty morning. Perhaps she and her mam could have made a life for themselves here in this remote corner of the Lakes. But there would have been no Harry. How could she ever wish things to be different if it meant no Harry?
She watched until the two figures turned the corner out of sight.
They were back a couple of hours later, Harry’s cheeks rosy with the cold air. Amy had been in the kitchen crafting with Oliver while Matt chopped some vegetables for the evening’s dinner. Oliver was making Christmas presents. She’d brought some craft projects for the boys in case of bad weather, and she knew Oliver would be happy drawing and painting for hours even if Harry wouldn’t. As soon as Matt had finished the vegetables Amy was ordered out of the kitchen while Oliver made something secret with him.
She tidied the living room and perfected the placement of the decorations on the Christmas tree. She was admiring her handiwork when Harry clattered into the house, trailing mud, and Peter followed not far behind.
‘He’s been a grand helper. We found the ewe, didn’t we, Harry?’ Peter announced.
‘Ay,’ said Harry, sounding for all the world like a miniature version of Peter. ‘The leg’s not diseased though, and that’s good. She’s going in a pen, and now Peter’s got to get her in the Land Rover. Take her down to the farm.’
‘Been a mild, wet autumn until now. I was worried we’d got foot rot starting, though that’s more likely in spring. Thankfully, it’s a clean break. The rest of the flock are safe. It’s not broken the skin, so hopefully she’ll recover. I’ll have a good look at her once we’ve got her penned up, see if we need the vet.’
‘Can I come with you in the Land Rover?’ Harry asked, hopefully.
‘Not today. I guess you’ll be having your dinner soon, and didn’t you say you got someone else coming to stay today?’
‘That’s Oliver’s granny. She won’t mind if I’m not here.’
‘Yes, but I will,’ said Amy.
‘Please, Mam?’
‘Not today, Harry. Thanks, Peter. I’m glad he was helpful.’ She raised a hand as he headed out, and she shut the door behind him.
‘It was awesome. The dogs are dead clever, they’ve got different whistles for signals. And you shout come by which doesn’t mean anything to do with going to buy things. And Peter showed me how to check a sheep’s foot. If they have foot rot you can smell it and it stinks, so I smelled the sheep’s foot, but it was fine. It didn’t smell at all. Except a little bit of sheep poo – sheep poo and mud. I could smell that, but not the other stinky smell. He’s going to keep the sheep in a pen near the house – I thought a pen was something you draw with, but Peter says it’s what you keep sheep in.’
‘That’s great. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Now go and take your coat off and wash your hands. You’re muddy.’ That was an understatement. Harry’s boots were covered in mud which had splattered up his jeans. His hands were filthy, he’d clearly touched his face, and somehow, he’d even managed to get mud in his hair. At least she hoped it was mud. After his exploits with sheep poo in the summer you could never be too sure.
‘I’m muddy ‘cos it was my job to open the gates and shut them again. Some of them had stones to keep them shut and I had to move the stones.’
‘Why didn’t you use your feet? Or wear your gloves?’
‘I didn’t want to get my gloves dirty. Can I be a shepherd when I grow up?’
‘We’ll see,’ Amy said with a grin. ‘Now go and get –’ She was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. As Peter had only just left, she assumed he’d forgotten something and come back again, so she swung the door open.
This time, it wasn’t Peter.
Diane stood on the doorstep, in a pristine cream woollen coat and neat red boots. Her makeup was perfect, her hair neatly styled, and her hands encased in cream leather gloves which matched her handbag.
Amy’s throat constricted. ‘Hello, Diane.,’ she sneaked.
‘Here I am at last.’ Diane gave Amy an air kiss. She looked beyond her shoulder and caught sight of Harry, who was taking off his hat and gloves. ‘Goodness me! Whatever has he been doing? What a lot of mud! I do hope Oliver isn’t in a similar state.’ She stood in the doorway, a look of distaste on her face.
‘No, Oliver’s crafting in the kitchen with his dad,’ Amy explained in her polite voice, the one she usually reserved for irate head teachers. ‘Harry, will you take your gloves and hat through to the utility room, and hang your coat up too. Boots off right there, please, you’re not going through the whole house like that. Diane, please do come in.’
Diane edged into the house and kept as far away from Harry as she could. He hopped on the doormat, one boot on and one boot off, threatening to grab hold of the nearest thing for balance, and Diane was clearly determined not to be that thing. Amy held out a hand to steady him.
‘Harry, when you pass the kitchen, will you tell Matt and Oliver Diane’s here?’ she said to him then turned to Diane. ‘Matt will get your luggage for you; come in and sit down. Welcome to Elder Fell Cottage.’ She smiled, though she didn’t feel the smile spread beyond her lips, and hoped it didn’t look as fake as it felt.
‘It’s been an absolute nightmare getting here,’ Diane placed her handbag on the window seat, clearly not prepared to move any further into the room until Harry had finished taking off his boots and left it. ‘Nobody told me it would be quite as remote as this. Thankfully an old man in the farmyard opened the gates for me, otherwise I’d have had to walk through the mud in the yard myself.’ She took off her leather gloves and placed them carefully on top of her handbag, checking first to make sure they were still perfectly clean.
Harry, who had now successfully removed his boots, headed into the cloakroom and opened the kitchen door on the way to announce: ‘She’s here!’ as if the Queen of Sheba had walked through the door.
‘Granny Diane!’ Oliver shouted. Instantly Diane’s stilted manner changed, and the faint look of disdain she’d worn since Amy had opened the door was replaced by a genuine warmth.
‘Where’s my special little man?’ Diane said, spreading her arms wide. Oliver tore through from the kitchen, hands covered in glitter and they hugged each other tightly. ‘I’m so glad to see you,’ she said.
‘I’ll get your bags out of the car,’ Matt said, and moved towards the door.
‘No, no, you go and get yourself cleaned up. Your hair’s full of glitter. Maybe Harry’s father, James, wasn’t it? Maybe he can get my bags unless he’s covered in glitter too.’ She looked around, her eyes sharp. ‘Where is he?’