Chapter 45

Abby had got used to the easy pace of life in the valley. It came as a surprise therefore when she realised that now there were very few days when there wasn't something or other demanding her attention. She went to Paverton to see the Solicitor, instructing him to handle the sale of the flat, and leaving with him the deeds. Visits were needed down to the house, as George Walker got on with the work, and phoned often to ask some question of her. She finally got to see the Goods Shed, when Harry and Sam deemed it safe. She went in with Sam, no longer needing James as the emotions of what had happened there no longer assailed her. The stench of all those rotting birds had indeed gone, and she was able to see the place properly. The windows had been washed down and both sets of doors were open so that daylight had once more come to the interior. Harry had manoeuvred his Tractor in, and had lifted the Box Van on one side, freeing the wheel.

"Is that safe, Harry." She asked.

"Well I expect the Health and Safety Inspector would have a fit, but I am quite confident. Anyway I am not going under the van. I don't reckon that the wheel is seized, there just doesn't seem to be any grease in the bearing." He was straining at the axle box cover. "If I can get this greased up well, then it should move. Probably need a bit of persuading, but we are used to that."

"Typical Harry." Sam laughed. "If it's meant to open then Harry will open it whatever. If it's meant to close then he will close it. I remember him opening a window once. He did open it eventually, took the whole damn frame with it as well, he'd forgotten he had nailed it shut years before, because of the draughts." Harry looked up ruefully.

"Trust you to remember that."

Abby was smiling. It was always a happy experience being with these two. "Why do you think there were two sets of doors?" Sam gave it some thought.

"Probably so that when they had finished with one van, they could just push it through, rather than having to pull it out and then push in the next one to be unloaded. If I remember right the rails rejoined with the siding loop the other side. What do you think, Harry?' Harry stood and stretched his back.

"You could be right there, Sam. Reg Purvess will know. Better ask him when he's next here."

"He phoned the other day." The mention of the name had triggered Sam's memory. "He said he would be over soon. I told him that Mr. Brasher would really like to chat with him. I am to call him next time he comes down." He stopped for a moment then turned to Abby. "Meant to tell you earlier. He's sorry it took so long but he can't get any rails for you. They had all gone. But his mate the Ganger says you can have as many old sleepers as you like. He thought it would make it look a little bit like a railway anyway. You will need to pay for transport though, but the Gangers are quite happy to come over and put them down. What do you think?"

"I'm delighted with anything they can do. You are right; it would make it look more like a railway. Do I have to organise the transport?"

"No, Reg will do that. Knows a guy who will do it on a Sunday for cash." he winked.

"I see, cash no invoice, no Income tax, no V.A.T." She sang a few bars of the introduction music from a popular comedy show. Sam grinned.

"Good voice you've got there. We'll have to get you into the Church Choir."

"I didn't know there was a Church Choir."

"There isn't, that's why you would have a good voice for it." Abby got the joke. She smiled broadly.

"Are you saying that I cannot sing?" Harry's muffled voice came from the depths of the Van.

"Sam's singing stops the Cows giving Milk. Compared to him, Abby, you are Lesley Garrett. Gotcha!" His cry signalled that he had got the bolts free on the Axle Box.

He withdrew the bolts and with a sharp tap the cover fell to the ground. "Just as I thought. No grease left at all. Sam! Could you hand me that grease gun. I'll give the bearing some directly, and then fill it up when I have cleaned the nipples." Abby was about to leave when a thought came to her.

"Sam, will you be in the Combe tonight?"

"Yes I shall pop in, anything in particular?"

"I will need to know a lot more about rearing beef cattle; do you think you could give me a quick run-down?" Sam looked at Harry who nodded.

"We'll both be there, and then you can get a much better picture of how it happens." Abby smiled her thanks and happily left them to their labours.

Over at her house there was great activity. All the windows were open, and clouds of white dust billowed out. Men wearing protective clothing and masks were barrowing loads of the white plaster out of the door and carefully emptying it into large Polythene bags. Abby decided not to approach as she felt sure that she would be a hindrance. Remembering also that Harry and Sam had warned her away when they had been similarly attired. No doubt the work was a little hazardous. They seemed to be working very hard, and did not understand why George had told her that the house would not be ready for her occupation until the New Year. However she was comfortable at the Inn, and could wait.

It was to the Inn she now returned. With so many strangers around she couldn't enjoy the peace the station had given her. In any case she needed to decide on a wardrobe for tomorrow, the Lunch with Richard and Maggie. Notwithstanding James' comment about being casual, she was not going to let herself into the trap of dressing down too much. She considered it disrespectful to arrive looking as if you hadn't taken care of your appearance. Mary automatically assumed that Abby had to be fed when she arrived, and it took quite a lot of persuading before she would agree that no food was required. She rumbled off complaining that the girl would starve to death soon. Abby went to her room with a smile on her face to decide on an outfit.

James came in that evening, and without thinking kissed Abby on the cheek. Mary could not hide her expression of delight for a split second, and then her face returned to normal. Abby acted as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, but was secretly pleased. If anyone else in the Bar noticed no comment was made. What Abby didn't know was that the news would be disseminated throughout the Valley, and would give rise to the same talk that had followed the intrigues of Valerie, Roger, Reg and Gladys all those years ago. Time may move on, the names would be different, but the gossip was still the same. Later Abby settled down with Harry and Sam for her lesson in animal rearing.

"We rear our beef cattle in what is known as suckler herds." Sam started. "Abe Stone has a good breeding herd. Got a very good South Devon Bull. The cow suckles her calf until it is about nine months old and weaned. After that it is known as a yearling. We buy yearlings from Abe, and fatten them. The herds are out to grass for most of the year, and only come in when the ground is too wet for them."

"So they are eating grass all the time?"

"Yes." Said Harry. "But we have to supplement, with Oats and Barley, you will see the troughs in the fields. If we bring them in we feed silage." Abby was taking this in.

"James told me that years ago the farms would grow oats and barley, but not now. Where do you get those from?" Sam came up with the answer this time.

"There's a merchant down South Molton where we buy the cereals. He has supplies that are chemical fertiliser free."

"So at what stage do you send the beef to slaughter?"

"Usually about two years."

"So you buy all your yearlings for fattening from Abe Stone?" Sam shook his head.

"Buy most, but have to put our own cows in calf; otherwise they will stop producing milk." Abby understood that answer, it was obvious.

"So you have your own Bull's?"

"No. We use artificial insemination."

"Why do that? Surely you could use Mr. Stones Bull." Harry was really pleased that Abby was asking these questions. It showed she was considering this co-operative seriously.

"Well," he explained, "it depends on what you are wanting. If you want beef cattle Abe's bull will give you good offspring South Devon's have a good reputation for beef. If however you are looking for dairy cattle, then you have to have the right pedigree of bull. Use A.I. and you have a wide choice of semen to use. Usually Jersey or Friesian." Abby was finding all this of great interest, but it was not as simple as it seemed.

"But surely you cannot guarantee the sex of the calf?"

"No we can't. Any Bulls born will be castrated after they have been weaned for beef production, we call those Bullocks other call them Steers. Some breeds do not make good beef, so the castrated calves of those will go to slaughter at twelve months. We call those baby beef."

"Therefore you have both beef and dairy cattle on your farms?"

"Yes," said Sam, "That way you are getting a regular income from the milk and the bonus when you slaughter."

"Are you organic?" Sam looked at Harry, who shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose so; we rotate the animals on the field, so they don't get worms or other parasites. The only fertiliser we use is natural. The supplements are natural as well, so I reckon, yes, we are organic." Abby was happy for the moment and insisted on buying the next round.

"Be prepared though," she said, "I shall be back to ask some more." Sam was easy with that.

"No problem, Abby. You remember what I once said to you, you keep asking questions, it's those who assume without asking that gets me angry."

Abby had assumed that they would use her car to go to Coolton Grange, and it would appear that James believed the same. He suggested that he arrived at the Inn about eleven-thirty. Abby agreed happily. That would give her plenty of time to get ready. James may have thought that she didn't have to dress up, but even for a girl to look casual, still took a lot of thought and time to achieve the effect.

When they had driven to Coolton Grange before, for the Ball, Abby had not taken too much notice of the way they went. At the time she was too nervous to be able to take in the directions for the journey. There were no nerves today, and she sat and committed the journey to memory, certain that one day she may have to make the drive on her own. The road to Paverton she was familiar with, but just after leaving the valley, James took a left turn. She had noticed the turn before, but it had no significance then. They followed the Lane for three miles across moorland, and then took another left, which descended into another, but broader valley. The Drive up to Coolton Grange she remembered as being quite long. They drove over a Cattle grid which rumbled and vibrated the car, then across pasture before wending their way through Rhododendrons to the sweep before the house. Maggie was waiting at the door, and greeted Abby with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. It wasn't a showy air-kiss, but one of good friendship.

"It's so nice to see you again, Abby. Come inside. I saw you turn into the Drive. Richard is opening some wine. Hello James! Turning up in style these days I see." James grinned. Abby awaited the humorous response.

"Well I like to drive a Lady in comfort, particularly when it is the Lady who provides the transport, and the style."

It had been, Abby had to admit, a very pleasant day. Maggie was not in Jeans and Sweater, as James had promised, but had dressed similarly to Abby, in Slacks and a blouse. A cool Chardonnay before and during an excellent meal of Salmon served with a large Salad set Abby's appetite at the replete mark. She wondered how she would be able to persuade Mary later on that she would not want a meal that evening. James and Richard wandered off discussing farming problems, and Maggie took Abby in hand, leading her through to the conservatory, to sit and drink coffee.