 |  |
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
Listeners' Fantasies |
 |
|
|
|
 |
|
TB or not TB...
By Cate O'Gorighal
 A sad tale, from a newcomer to the Fantasy Archers topic of The Archers message board.
David sat staring lugubriously into the depths of the Aga firebox.
It had been a difficult week, but at least - or so he tried to comfort himself - even though the news was not good, knowing the worst was better than the uncertainty had been.
He looked up, stirred from his reverie by a tap on the kitchen door. "Hellooo! Only us. Don't get up." Normally his siblings' assumption of the right to breeze in and out of their former family home at will irritated him, but today he was too glad of his big sister's presence to let it stir his hackles. "We came straight over as soon as we got your message." Sympathy brimmed from the bovine depths of Shula's eyes: "Oh, David ...."
He nodded stoically. "Alistair.....?"
"In the yard. Just getting togged up. It semed a bit....insensitive - you know - to get all prepared in here. In the circumstances."
"Thanks." David sighed. He pictured his brother-in-law donning the white overalls and loading his culling rifle. It didn't take much imagination - it was a sight all too familiar in recent years. "You know what gets me Sis? The sheer unfairness of it. I mean, haven't we been through enough ? The quarantine, the constant testing, our best stock picked off one by one...."
"I know."
"And now this. Just when we thought it was all behind us..... it's just so, unfair !" Shula reached out her hand to his shoulder in a gesture somewhere between comfort and Vulcan death grip. "It must seem like that, I know." She glanced towards the window. "Alistair must be ready by now."
"She was a good breeder, you know. Great little milker too. Even after all that worry on the udder front. I mean, granted the old girl's temperament could be tricky, but, well, I know we farmers are supposed to be a hard lot, but you can't help getting attached. At times you'd look into those big brown eyes and it was just like she was trying to say something. Sometimes I'd swear I almost understood her." He looked up. He was starting to crumple. "What if it's too late? What if it's gone right through the herd already?"
"You mustn't think like that," Shula said firmly. "You have to be positive. Brookfield depends on you now. It's hard, I know, but it's for the best. You know that. You're a farmer - " she hesitated "- you're an Archer." He nodded miserably. Shula paused and softened her tone; better not be too hard on him. Anyhow, he wouldn't weaken. He would protect the farm, do what was necessary. She gazed down at him with fond sisterly pride : the Badger Butcher of Borsetshire. "I better go and see if Alistair wants any help. I don't suppose you want to...?"
"No!" He shook his head quickly.
"No. Sorry. Of course not. Is she in the barn?" He looked at her aghast. "In the barn? You think I'd risk putting her anywhere near the stock?"
"So, she's...."
"Upstairs. In the bedroom. S'funny y'know. I'd have sworn a few days ago that cough was getting better......"
More
Archers fantasies
Visit
the message board
<<Back
|
|
 | |  |
|
|
|
 |
|
