Short Story The Alpaca Experience

The business had been her dream – but suddenly it looked like she might lose everything

On my 55th birthday, I finally decided to start living my dream. For some people, that would mean travelling around the world – for others, it might be moving to the country. For me, it was buying a herd of alpacas.

My love for alpacas had grown over many years. I’d seen pictures of them in books and watched TV programmes about them, but then an Alpaca Centre opened up near me and I went to visit. One look and I was hooked.

It was those huge dark eyes and long eyelashes, the cute fringe and camelid lips, all on a head sitting atop a crazily long neck.

These beautiful, quirky creatures made me smile, and sometimes laugh out loud.

I found being around them calming, too. At the Alpaca Centre, you could take one for a walk. I did this several times, and that was what made up my mind. I wanted to share that calm.

Before long, I had sold up and set myself up on a tiny island. Despite its remoteness, it was a popular holiday destination, and there were no other alpaca ventures in the area. I did lots of research, wrote a business plan and, most exciting of all, bought six alpacas. I loved looking after them, but it was a lot to take on. So when my next-door neighbour asked if she could help me at weekends, I jumped at the chance.

Laura was tall, lanky, bubbly and huge fun. We had a laugh looking after our little herd and, when the work was done, she’d come in for a cup of tea and regale me with the local gossip.

As a newcomer, I had a lot to catch up on. The nosy postmistress who had been caught steaming open letters, the torrid affair between the window cleaner and the vicar’s wife, and the ongoing war

‘HE’S NOT CUTE! HE’S DYING!’

between the neighbours who kept accusing each other of filling up each other’s dustbins. It was gripping stuff.

*****

One morning, Laura arrived bursting with news she couldn’t keep until our tea break.

‘You’ll never guess!’ she beamed as we were cleaning out the barn.

‘OK, then, I won’t try,’ I said. I can be a bit dry sometimes.

‘Go on, spoilsport,’ said Laura.

‘It’s more fun if you’ve tried and got it wrong before I tell you.’

‘OK – the vicar’s wife is pregnant…’ Laura looked shocked.

‘No! She’s 54!’

‘Miracles happen – as well as IVF.’ ‘Why would she want to have a baby with the man she’s having a secret affair with?’

I sighed and rolled my eyes as

I grabbed an armful of fresh hay. How had a guessing game ended up here? ‘So what has happened?’

‘I’ll tell you over a cuppa,’ Laura said a bit huffily.

I think my mentioning IVF had taken out some of the ‘fun’.

*****

Once we were in front of our steaming cups of tea, and halfway through our biscuits, Laura launched in…

‘There’s going to be a big TV shoot on the island, starting next week!’

She stared at me with wide eyes, as if this piece of information was so amazing I should faint or, at the very least, choke on my biscuit. I did neither.

I didn’t watch much TV, so wasn’t that intrigued. And I’d never been good at hiding my feelings.

‘Well – aren’t you going to ask me what it is, who’s in it, where they’re filming and when we can go and get autographs?’ ‘I can if you like.’

‘Oh, don’t bother!’ huffed Laura, snatching the custard cream I had my eye on.

‘Sorry, Laura, I am interested… please tell me.’

‘OK,’ she said, sitting up straight again and directing her gaze at me. ‘It’s called Going Strait – you know, after the strait between here and the mainland – and it’s about an ex-criminal who comes to live on the island and becomes a detective. Do you get it? Strait and straight – it’s a play on words.’

Laura looked at me expectantly. ‘Interesting,’ I nodded, with slightly glazed eyes.

‘You don’t seem very interested.’

‘I am – a bit…’

‘Well, even if you’re not, you will be when I tell you who’s in it…’

She paused and held her breath.

‘Go on – you’ll pass out if you don’t.’ ‘Daley Preston!’ she replied triumphantly.

‘Who’s he?’ I tend to be over-honest as well.

‘You know! He’s in Hospital Watch… Cat Man. He’s super-handsome and a brilliant actor – and he’s coming here!’

‘Great!’ I said. ‘We badly need some publicity for the business. He might do a photo shoot or something…’

‘Exactly!’ said Laura. ‘And then I can get his autograph. Can you please take those biscuits away from me?’

The biscuits removed, we worked out the exact wording of the email I was going to send to Daley Preston. I felt excited. It was an offer he couldn’t refuse.

*****

But he could. I received a curt reply the next day, saying he was far too busy.

Angry, I binned his email. How could he be so rude? Not just to me but to my darling alpacas!

Throwing myself into looking after the herd, I carried on organising the alpaca walks I offered to local schools and community groups. I didn’t want to hear the name Daley Preston ever again.

*****

A few days later, I was plunged into a crisis much deeper than being snubbed by a minor TV celebrity. The dream

I had been living seemed to be turning into a nightmare.

It started when I was sweeping the yard. I heard ‘alpaca humming’ coming from the barn. I knew when the animals made this sound that it was a sign of fear or anxiety, so I dropped everything and rushed across the yard.

Entering the barn, I gasped. One of the pregnant alpacas had gone into labour a month early.

I texted Laura, asking her to come at once. It only took her a few minutes to get to me from next door but, by that time, the baby alpaca had been born.

He lay limp in the straw, too weak to stand. ‘Aah! Cute!’ said Laura when she arrived. ‘He’s not cute! He’s dying!’ ‘Sorry, sorry!’ babbled Laura, her eyes filling with tears. ‘How can I help?’

‘Ring the vet and tell him to come. I think this cria might need a plasma transfusion.’

‘Cria? Is that what you’ve called him?’ ‘No! That’s the name for a baby alpaca.’ ‘Oh, I see,’ said Laura, dialling the vet’s number.

The vet came within an hour and confirmed that Evan did indeed need a transfusion if he was to survive.

I had named the cria Evan while we were waiting for the vet because he (the cria, not the vet) looked like the TV presenter Evan Davis.

I was relieved there was a chance of saving Evan, but I didn’t have the money for the procedure. I had already borrowed every penny I could, and

I’d foolishly let the insurance lapse. This could break us.

As the vet took Evan away for emergency treatment, with promises from me that I would settle the bill later, my brain was in turmoil. What to do? The only strategy I could think of was to send Laura to the off-licence for a bottle of wine while I desperately tried to come up with a way of raising the cash.

But it was Laura who saved the day. To my amazement, she returned from the off-licence with a tall, handsome man – not unlike Idris Elba. He was wearing a smart suit and highly polished brogues. Mud from the farmyard flicked up onto his shoes as he approached the barn. I frowned with worry and uncertainty. Who was he? Laura was beaming. Why? ‘All our problems are solved,’ announced Laura, presenting the good-looking stranger with a flourish.

‘I saw Daley in the off-licence, took my courage in my hands, told him our problem and he has offered to help us out.’

‘Daley?’ I said. The name rang a bell. ‘Daley Preston! Remember – I told you about him. Going Strait? Filming? Hello?’

I was stunned. This was the man who had refused to do a photo shoot to help a new business. Now he was holding out his hand and looking at me with a winning smile.

‘Pleased to meet you, Mary.’

I looked at my hand. It was covered in straw and mud. And Daley laughed.

‘I heard you have a sick baby alpaca. I’d like to help. I love alpacas.’

‘But your email…’

‘I’ve already asked Daley why he refused the photo shoot,’ Laura butted in. ‘He didn’t know anything about it.’

‘Yes,’ said Daley. ‘I’m afraid I have a PA who’s like a guard dog. She handles all my work emails. But I’d like to make it up to you by paying for the baby alpaca’s treatment.’

‘Oh,’ I said, full of feelings, but short on words. I felt grateful, relieved and a tiny bit in love.

Daley filled the silence. ‘Could I see the alpacas?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘But the sick one is with the vet.’

Daley and I walked over to the barn. ‘I’m sorry about the mud,’ I said, looking at his shoes.

‘That’s OK,’ he replied. ‘I’ve finished filming. In fact, I go home tomorrow.’

Then he stopped and turned to me. ‘Although I might change my plans and take a few days’ holiday.’

I looked at him blankly. I could be a woman of few words at times.

‘Maybe I could even walk with one of the alpacas? I believe you offer an Alpaca Experience…’

‘Of course,’ I said, and I think I managed to smile, although I actually felt like hugging him.

I felt so at ease in Daley’s company. He had such a calming quality about him.

I wasn’t sure if I should tell him that he was rather like an alpaca in that respect.

But then I thought I just might. After all, I couldn’t think of a higher compliment.

THE END