‘I have to go and look after the sheep now,’ I said again.
All sheep were accounted for, and the cold air burnt my lips and took the white smoke of breath from my mouth. There was a new smell to the day, the wind had changed direction and it brought with it salt and bonfires. Snowdrops that had come up in the night were pinned to the earth by the wind. I marked the sheep that looked like they had triplets and twins and Dog chased a rabbit into the woods.
I crutched a dozen or so of the furthest along, and while I worked, a fox appeared at the edge of the woods. I stopped what I was doing and watched her. Compared to the sheep she was small and skittish.
‘It wasn’t you, was it?’ I asked out loud. If I was any kind of farmer, I’d be there with my gun and I’d take her out. I watched two skinny cubs amble up behind her. They were far too early, and she’d be needing food to keep her milk up, to keep her strength up. I looked at the ewe I’d just crutched, settled comfortably in the grass, saw her sigh at the solidness of herself against earth.
One of the fox cubs snapped at a fly, and the vixen’s ears sprung around at something in the undergrowth. She kept one foot off the ground to listen, then hauled up a cub by its scruff and the other followed her back into the dark where it was safe. Dog appeared out of the woods, long pink tongue lolling out of him, seeds plastered to his snout and goosegrass tangled around his back leg. He looked happy. If they could they would all kill each other, the fox would kill the sheep and then Dog would kill the fox.
Dog came up and smelled the newly sheared bum wool and then lay down panting heavily next to the pregnant sheep, who laboured up and moved away like she couldn’t take the smell of him. From the trees a flock of starlings took off. Maybe they signalled the vixen moving deeper into the woods.
From the stile, I saw Don’s truck was back and breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Christ’s neck, what happened to you?’ he said as he opened the door, smiling like he always did when he knew exactly what had gone on and was waiting for me to ask for help. ‘Get bogged did you?’
‘Could you give me a tow out?’ I said, reddening.
‘Good opportunity to call on one of those younger farmers, don’t you think?’ he said, making no move to get his boots on.
‘I could do it myself if you’d let me have your keys. I could pull it out myself.’
‘Really? And who’d steer? Some things you just can’t do on your own.’ He turned and started to pull on his oilskin. ‘That’s why farmers need to know each other, you help them, they help you, that’s just how it goes. All it’d take’d be the pub once a week for a couple of hours’ — he started to push his feet into his gumboots — ‘because sooner or later I’m going to hit the post and be dead and then what’ll you do? Starve to death I suppose.’ Don was in a good mood at least.
It took just a couple of tries to get the truck out, and when it was free, Don leant out his window. ‘This that chap who helped you out of the ditch?’
Lloyd was coming up the track, looking like a country rambler with an ash pole to help him along.
‘Yep.’
‘Handy to have him around.’
Lloyd raised a hand in hello. Don nodded back and turned his engine off. I turned mine off too, reluctantly.
‘Hi there,’ said Lloyd to Don. He looked at me and I might have imagined it but he looked a little hurt. ‘I was wondering where you’d got to — thought I might be able to help? But you’ve got the car out I see.’ There was a quiet in which Lloyd’s words hung.
Don looked back to me. ‘I’ll come by with a chainsaw and get rid of this for you,’ he said, nodding at the tree.
‘Thanks, but I’ve got a saw, I’ll be right.’ Don narrowed his eyes at me.
‘My saw’s a big one,’ he said.
I nodded. ‘Mine’s pretty big too.’
‘You know how to use it?’
‘I do.’
‘Well,’ Don said, not satisfied. I curled my tongue into my mouth and gave a short smile. It was important not to be rude. Don turned his attention to Lloyd.
‘Nice to see her with a bit of company about the place.’
I cleared my throat.
‘Oh,’ said Lloyd, visibly uncomfortable, ‘I’m afraid I rather forced myself on her.’
Don barked, ‘About time!’ He started up his engine so that he had the last word, raised a hand and disappeared up the track. Lloyd looked at me and I tried to soften my jaw.
‘He likes winding you up that old guy, huh?’
‘He does.’
We drove back to get the chainsaw in silence. I went into the shed and topped up the diesel, and picked up an axe too. Lloyd waited by the car talking softly to Dog. I put the axe and chainsaw in the back and he moved to get in with me.
‘You stay here,’ I said.
‘Er—’
‘With the dog.’ I got in the truck and left him there looking embarrassed.
Back at the fallen tree, I got out of the truck, left the door open and took the tools from the back. I started with the axe, feeling the fluid pump through my shoulders, skimming off the smaller branches until I had a clear shot at the trunk and then I laid into it, hacked with no particular aim, but a steady rhythm, shouting and sweating as I gouged at the wood until there was no strength left in my arms and I stopped to pant and close my eyes. I had the singular clear thought, He doesn’t know me. And I pulled the choke out on the saw, and yanked the cord to start it.
It was dark by the time I was done, and raining. Lloyd had lit a fire in the fireplace.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said when I walked in to find him standing at the sink, washing up. Dog wagged his tail from his spot on the sofa by the fire, like it was normal.
‘How’d it go with the tree? I would have cooked something,’ he said, ‘but I didn’t know what you were saving. I did a bit of cleaning instead.’ He turned around and looked at me. ‘Not because the place needed it, just to say thank you.’ He turned back to the sink.
‘Huh,’ I said. It was annoying that he had moved things, and that the place looked nicer because of it. It smelled different, the air was dry and warm. I never lit the fire. I ran a bath and was in it before I noticed how much I ached.
We shared a can of mushroom soup at the table. I’d thought I could cook the chicken, but it smelled green. The wind rattled in the pipe of the Rayburn. It was late to take him into town, but maybe after tea.
‘So,’ Lloyd said, not for the first time, and then because the silence was not comfortable, I got up and took a bottle of whisky out of the cupboard. I poured two mugs and sat down, handing one to him.
‘Thank you,’ he said and coughed. ‘So.’
Dog growled. We both looked over to him. He had left the warmth of the fire and was standing by the front door, head down. Lloyd looked at me.
‘Why’s he doing that?’
I scraped back my chair and went to the window.
‘He can smell something outside.’ The growl was a deep one from down in his guts. I pulled back the curtain and looked out.
‘Turn the light off,’ I said quietly.
Lloyd flipped the switch and came to stand next to me. I closed my eyes for a moment to try and get them used to the dark, then looked again.
‘The human eye senses movement before all else,’ said Lloyd, and I stared at him. ‘What?’ he said. ‘I read it in National Geographic.’
Out the window, nothing moved.
‘Someone’s watching the house, I can feel it,’ I said, and Lloyd’s eyes widened at me.