COUNTRY LOVING
Imogen Green spends Valentine’s Day surrounded by men, but will she attract the attention of the only one she’s interested in?
Rural life isn’t always idyllic, especially when it comes to dating…
LAMBING HAS COME ROUND AGAIN, and yesterday evening one of my ewes gave birth to a stillborn single. She looked so sad afterwards, her eyes blank, that I was sure she would die, too. So I went to search online for an orphan lamb – and was interrupted by my sister-in-law Susie, wearing velvet and Chanel No 5.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” she exclaimed when she saw me covered in mud. “I’m not going,” I said. For weeks she and her daughter Freddie have been planning to get me together with Matthew, a man I met on Country Loving and who’s ‘ghosted’ me ever since (no texts, no emails, no calls). When they found out he’d be at our Valentine’s Day village ceilidh, they decided it was best for me to turn up looking amazing and, crucially, surrounded by hot men (the hot men were to be Young Farmer pals of Freddie’s). I didn’t really want to do it. It seemed silly, I couldn’t face the humiliation, and I had more compelling, sheep-based activities in mind. But you can’t win against Susie. Before I knew it, I was showered, made-up and squashed into a posh frock, and Susie was sizzling my hair with her tongs. Then I was bundled into a crowded people carrier.
“Why do you think this will work?” I asked, perched on the knees of a Young Farmer. “Because it always does,” he said, in a surprising baritone. “Won’t Matthew think it’s odd that I’m with men in their twenties?”
“Trust me,” Susie said from the back of the vehicle. “He won’t. He’ll be too busy seething with jealousy and regret.” “And lust,” my Young Farmer added, most disconcertingly. I felt more confident once we reached the village hall. It was bright with pink ribbons and heart-shaped balloons, and smelled deliciously of the pies we’d be eating later. I hadn’t realised how much I’d enjoy being in a crowd of lively young men. One of them did an incredibly funny impression of a bull in a handling crate, and confided that he’d always wanted to do stand-up, but feared his material was too niche.
The band started and we took our places for Strip the Willow. I was giggling at all the villagers charging the wrong way in panic when I caught sight of Matthew. He was alone, and looked lost, sad even – my heart turned over. He glanced towards the dancers, and for the instant our eyes met I wondered if I saw his brighten slightly… Then Susie spun past and grabbed hold of me. “No staring!” she hissed.
I smiled and turned away, and used one of the dances, a Circassian Circle, to ask my constantly changing partners about orphan lambs. Next came a Cumberland Square, where all the couples galloped out through the open fire doors into a rainy car park before whizzing back into the hot, crowded hall. Just as it finished, my neighbour Stuart told me there was a spare lamb near South Molton, and offered to drive me there. I’d forgotten what powerful forces (and countless phone calls) are unleashed when you ask for help in the village.
By midnight I was introducing a cheery lamb with enormous ears to my grieving ewe. She got to her feet with difficulty and sourly butted him away. I wrestled milk from her and fed it to him, and rubbed him on her so he had the right smell, but she still fumed with hatred. He didn’t care – he knew he belonged to her. This morning she grumpily tolerated his company, but just now I went out in the moonlight to check on them and found her standing up straight and letting him drink. When I heard her give a tender growl, it almost – but not quite – made up for Matthew’s silence.
‘Dancer seeks man with all the right moves’