Party Games by Jo Carnegie Read Free Book Online

permanently sunburnt neck.
    She gazed out gloomily through the windscreen. Even when things had been better she’d dreaded going to market. There wasn’t much that didn’t get round the farming community. Everyone knew Robert Blackwater had hit the bottle since his wife had diedof cancer. Fleur saw it in people’s faces every time she went.
    ‘How’s your dad these days, young Fleur?’ they’d enquire.
    She would answer brightly, with a big smile. ‘He’s great, thanks! Farm’s keeping him busy.’
    There was always a fleeting look of sympathy, followed by a stoic nod. Farmers weren’t known for being big talkers, thank God.
    As they pulled up outside the farmhouse she could see her dad’s truck in the yard. He hadn’t gone out shopping then, like he’d promised. Fleur noticed the sheds still hadn’t been hosed out. She sighed again; another job to do.
    ‘Are you tired?’ Ben asked. ‘I can take over from here if you want.’
    His thigh was almost touching hers on the seat. ‘Actually, would you mind?’ Fleur said. ‘I should really go and check on the heifers.’
    She took the quad bike up the hill, frustration burning in her ears. Why did things always have to get complicated? She and Ben used to have such a simple, safe relationship. Now he turned up to work smelling like he was going out on a Saturday night and kept getting caught looking at Fleur’s chest. It was a toss-up out of the pair of them who went redder.
    ‘Men!’ Fleur exclaimed. As if she had time for a love life anyway.
    As soon as she pulled up at the field it was clear something was very wrong. One of the pregnant cows was lying on her side in the throes of labour. Her calf’s headwas hanging out the back. It was obvious the mother was in great distress.
    ‘Shit.’ Fleur should be able to see the tips of the calf’s front feet as well, otherwise there was no way of pulling it out.
    There was no time to call Ben. She hurriedly assessed the situation. If she pulled the baby out by its head, she risked breaking its neck. If she did nothing the vet would have to be called out for an emergency caesarean and the calf might die anyway.
    The thought of another vet’s bill galvanized her into action. Very carefully and slowly, she pushed the calf’s head back inside the mother. After a painful struggle she managed to unhook its front legs and straightened them out. Tying a rope round each one, she started to pull. It felt like the tiny limbs could snap at any minute but finally the calf came slithering out in a pile of water and mucus. Fleur gave his navel a spray of iodine and got out of the way. Cows could get very protective of their newborns.
    ‘I do hope you’re going to wash your hands before lunch,’ a voice drawled.
    Fleur whirled round. A couple in evening dress were standing on the other side of the five-bar gate. The woman’s sequinned gown glittered incongruously in the sunlight. Fleur clocked the man’s familiar blond hair and her stomach dropped.
    Beau Rainford rested his arms on the top bar, loose bow tie dangling around his tanned neck. ‘Flora, isn’t it?’
    ‘It’s Fleur, dickhead,’ she snapped. Did he really not remember?
    Beau’s eyes rested on her. They were bright blue and glassy, reminding Fleur of a fathomless lake. His companion was nearly the same height as him and anorexically thin. Judging by their ruffled appearance and their evening dress, neither had been to bed yet.
    ‘Did that cow just shoot its load over you?’ Beau enquired. ‘I’ve heard how kinky you country folk can be.’
    The girl gave a malicious shriek of laughter. ‘Oh, that’s disgusting !’
    Fleur’s cheeks burnt with humiliation. ‘It’s a she , you idiot, so I very much doubt it. And she and her calf nearly just died then!’
    ‘They look all right to me,’ Beau drawled.
    Fleur turned back and was inordinately relieved to see the calf standing on shaky legs, suckling its mother.
    ‘We don’t care what you get up