MORNING SERIAL
“JACK?”
“No.”
“Are you sick?” He glances at her chest as if expecting to see something there, a stain or contour that would expose the problem.
She crosses her arms. “I just miss Helen, could do with her help, that’s all. Ioan’s struggling with the lambing. How are you managing?”
“I’ve got the Parry lad covering, full-time.”
“He’s not at school?” Jennifer has a vague recollection of a skinny boy with gap teeth, hiding behind his fringe.
“He’s 18.”
“We’ve an orphaned lamb. Needs feeding every two hours.”
“None of the others would take it then?”
“What?”
“He tried it with the other ewes and they rejected it, did they?”
“I don’t think so. He came straight back with it. Is that what you usually do? We’ve not had a ewe die on us like this before.” “So he didn’t even try?” “It’s in a box by the Aga.” “No wonder you’re missing your sister, she’d have known. Probably too late now, but you could still try.”
They sit sipping their tea in the safety of the kitchen, until the nurse comes downstairs.
She is younger than Helen expected, probably barely out of university. What can she possibly know about death, Jennifer thinks. She has a tattoo just behind one ear, a tiny bird, exposed where her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She gives Jennifer’s dad a hug on the step, promises to come back in the morning. The intimacy irritates her, the way the girl’s ponytail swings behind her as she bounces to her car.
“Are you going up?”
“Not just yet, Dad. I’ll let her settle. I’m going for a walk if that’s okay.”
She slips out before he can answer. THE pace is slow, frustrating. She has to support Anton, bear the weight of the pack, and navigate without the phone.
She knows the challenge is all in her mind now, that the rising knot of panic must be controlled. The situation is perilous, their progress potentially off the mark.
> The Half Life of Snails by Philippa Holloway is Published by Parthian at £15
CONTINUES TOMORROW