Cowgirl (15 page)

I didn’t get as far as the farmhouse, because I found Kate sitting on the gate gazing out at the empty field where the cows used to be. As soon as she saw me she smiled, and I thought it was funny that it wasn’t long ago I’d been scared of her.

“All right?” I said.

“Yeah. Why you covered in paint?”

“Spring is here.”

“Huh?”

I went over and leaned on the gate next to her. “They named Donna’s new calf Kate,” I said.

“That’s nice.”

“You should see it down there. Loads of people… Wish you’d come down.”

Kate didn’t answer. She just stared out into the field, as if she could see cows.

“How’s your dad?” I asked.

“Not great. He’s going to take the cows to market and get ’em sold. It’ll cost a lot to get ’em there, and he still feels bad about taking them away from everyone.”

“Donna and Kate too?”

She nodded. “He and Mam helped me apply for the City Farm grant. Mr Phillips called Dad, said it was a good idea but he couldn’t help as he works for Defra, like he told us.”

“But the cows would be sold by the time you got the grant, wouldn’t they?”

“Yeah. I think they helped me apply just to please me… How’s
your
dad?” she asked.

“It’s weird having him back. He doesn’t like being outside, with all the people and everything.”

Kate took a deep breath. “We should go down and bring up the cows. No point leaving it any longer.”

“You got a bike?”

“No.”

“I’ll take you down. Be quicker.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I can’t ride a bike. All right!”

It was the old angry Kate, her eyes back to narrow slits.

“Don’t you dare laugh, Gemma.”

“I’m not laughing. You don’t have to ride it – I can cycle with you on the saddle.”

“No!”

My phone started ringing. It was Mam.

“Hiya.”

“
We’re bringing the cows up now, Gemma…”

“We’re just about to come down…”

“
It’s OK, love, we can manage. Don’t worry.”

She was gone.

“They’re bringing the cows up.”

Kate nodded. “No need to go down on your bike then.”

She walked to the end of the lane and I followed, trying to wipe the smile off my face.

We gazed down on the Bryn Mawr below. It was a lovely view.

“You ever had a pet?” Kate asked.

“Had a goldfish once. Won it at a fair … or maybe it was a fete.”

“Goldfish’s not a proper pet. It’s a fish!”

“Still a pet.”

“What happened to it?”

“Darren put Slush Puppy in the bowl – killed it.”

As we looked down I saw the colourful kites.

“Hey, there’s the…”

Then I saw something else. I couldn’t work it out at first, it was like some sort of creature moving up the hill towards us. I’ll never ever forget it.

The kites were leading the way, and the cows were plodding along behind. Then after the cows were people, hundreds and hundreds of people, thousands, all following them. It was like everyone in the whole of the Bryn Mawr had decided to take a stroll at the same time – a massive parade to see the cows off.

Me and Kate watched in silence.

“You don’t think they’re coming all the way up, do you?” I asked.

Kate glanced at me, and then back down at the procession snaking its way up Craig-y-Nos hill. “Hope they don’t expect a cup of tea.”

When we got to the farmhouse I don’t think Kate’s dad and mam believed us.

It was bizarre when the people arrived, because some of them were covered in coloured paint that made them look like a wild war party. They all just
stood there, looking at us, and they were just the first part of the crowd. The rest were still coming.

I noticed lots of them were carrying milk cartons. They came towards us, put the cartons on the floor, and then they turned and walked away. No one said a word. It was a bit spooky.

I picked up one of the cartons. It was heavy but it didn’t have milk in it.

“It’s full of money,” I said to Kate. “They’re
all
full of money.”

It took over an hour for the people to come and give their milk cartons, but it wasn’t just people from the Mawr; they were from all over the Valleys.

Me, Dad, Mam and Darren helped stack up the cartons in the milking shed. Kerry said it was an irony, putting them in there.

One of the other things about that day I’ll not forget was when I saw Sian standing there. She put a carton on the floor and looked at me. She didn’t smile, just gave me a nod. I nodded back, then she turned and left.

It took a few days before we got through counting the money. It kept coming, too. People sent donations to the
Echo
from all over Wales. There was plenty to pay Mr Thomas for at least six of the cows – half a dozen to start the Bryn Mawr City Farm.

We raised so much money in the end we bought all thirteen cows, and we got the grant for the farm as well.

The first thing we did was to clear the Mawr Common of rubbish. We had loads of help. The cows were allowed to graze, and we helped Mr Thomas put a fence all the way round the Common. Even Mostyn gave a hand – amazing what happens with a bit of publicity. Me and Kate became the first members of the BMCF – the Bryn Mawr City Farm – and Mr Thomas was the manager.

Mr Banerjee and his family suggested we marked
the opening with a procession of the cows decorated with flowers and coloured blankets. It was great. People shared gifts and food. Peggy led the procession and someone was carried high on a chair, dressed in white with a crown of jewels. It was only when the person started to play the flute that I realised it was Karuna. His face and body was painted blue – I know I keep saying it, but he was gorgeous.

I said to Mr Banerjee. “Is he meant to be Krishna?”

He smiled. “Yes. The holy herdsman.”

When the music stopped there were lots of people gathered around Karuna, mostly girls. I remembered Mr Banerjee telling me about the cow maids fancying Krishna. I felt jealous.

I spotted Kate, hiding behind her mam and dad. It was funny, her not liking to be around loads of people. I’d always thought nothing bothered her, but she stood there looking like a shy toddler. I went over to her.

“Hi.”

She smiled. “Hi.”

We gazed around at all that was going on, and I couldn’t help thinking that it was all because of me and her. “Good, isn’t it?” I said.

She nodded.

“You doing anything tomorrow?” I asked.

“No.”

“I’ll come up and see you.”

“OK,” she said.

“I’ll bring my bike – give you your first lesson.”

I didn’t wait for a reply and went over to where Darren was being interviewed by the TV people.

“Tell us what’s so special about Jane?” the reporter asked.

“Well, we get milk from her, and butter and cheese…” said Darren, staring into the camera like he was in a trance. “And you can’t say that about a cat or a dog or a hamster, can you? A cow’s loads better.” He pointed to Jane. “Chewing the cud, she is now. Cows bring back up the grass they’ve eaten and chew it again. Fantastic. Imagine if you could eat a Mars bar, then bring it up and eat it again and again…”

I laughed.

Dad was out of prison now and I knew he still found it difficult being among lots of people. When I spotted him he looked like he wanted to be a hundred miles away – something he had in common with Kate. As I went towards him I saw him take Mam’s hand. A lump filled my throat. I turned away and walked around on my own for a bit.

I felt like I was in a different place, not the Mawr I remembered – a happy place, with people chatting
and laughing.

“Hello, Gemma.”

I turned to see Karuna. He really
was
blue – bizarre but gorgeous.

“Fantastic, isn’t it?” he said. “And all because of you and Kate.”

I shrugged. “We did our best.” Like it was every week I helped rescue twelve cows. “When can we have another flute lesson?” I asked him straight out. Cool, I was.

“Tonight?”

“OK,” I said with a smile. Then I kissed him on his blue lips.

Audacious, or what?

“Come meet my mam and dad,” I said to him.

As we made our way around the fete we stopped to watch Gran talking to people and sharing her cheese. She was so happy. I remembered the day she was miserable in the rain burying her dog, and now she was standing in the sunshine talking to people about her cow and her cheese.

It was beautiful, just beautiful.

Kate was frowning, and she gripped the handlebars like her life depended on it.

“You let go and I’ll—”

“I won’t,” I said. “As you move you’ll balance. It’s automatic. Honest.”

“Doesn’t feel automatic.”

We were on a quiet lane, down the road from the farm, because Kate didn’t want her parents to know she was learning to cycle.

“OK. Feet on pedals.”

Kate’s arms were shaking. “Don’t let go!”

“I won’t.”

“If you do…”

“I WON’T!”

We started going along. Then I heard a noise, like a whirring sound. A cyclist was coming down the lane on a proper speed-bike, all kitted out in Lycra and a helmet. There was a whoosh as the cyclist went past.

“Wow!”

I let go of the bike. I didn’t mean to.

“GEMMA!”

Before I could get to her, Kate went straight into the hedge at the side of the lane. She never believed I let go by accident, but she’d cycled and that was the main thing. From then on we went cycling most weekends. We even went down Craig-y-Nos hill together, no brakes.

We screamed all the way down.

Cowgirls screaming for our lives.