‘Ah, here we come,’ said Cooper, his voice strained with exertion.
There was a squelching sound, the sudden splash of fluids emptying into the straw, and the ewe fell silent. But then there was another noise. It was only a faint coughing, like the sound of a tiny child with something caught in its throat. It was followed by a sneeze. And Fry suddenly found she was desperate to see what was happening in there.
Malkin turned back towards her. ‘The only thing I can think
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of is that he might have been an old airman. Polish, maybe, w’ith that name? You should try old Walter Rowland. He used to be in the RAF. Rut that’s years and years ago.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Fry impatiently.
‘Here, don’t you want to know this? I thought you had to ask some questions.’
She could hear Cooper rustling in the straw, muttering to the sheep, crooning like some demented goatherd.
‘It’s a ewe lamb,’ he said.
‘Aye, that’s good,’ said Malkin, without looking round. ‘Single, is it?’
‘I’ll tell you in a minute.’
Fry couldn’t see anything except for Ren Cooper’s back in the blue overalls. She tried to edge towards the pen, but Malkin was in her way.
‘Any road,’ he said, ‘I don t know what else I can tell you. What else do you want to know? I don’t understand what all this business is about the RAF.’
‘Oh, shush!’ she said.
Now a distinct high-pitched squeak came from somewhere in
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the wet straw. Fry leaned over to get a glimpse of something Hark and wet, which hadn’t keen there a few seconds before. It was a creature with tiny, thin legs splayed in the straw and a head that was too big for its body. She watched in amazement as it began to struggle to its feet, wobbling dangerously, with its cars folded on to its head as it tried to get its balance. Although its eyes could hardly focus, its mouth was puckered and it was trying to move forward towards its mother. It had been in the world for only thirty seconds.
‘Good, strong lamb,’ said Cooper. ‘We’ll just get her suckling.’
‘Where?’ said Fry.
‘From her mother’s teats, where else?’
‘It’s too small. It won’t be able to reach,’ she said. ‘Will it?’
‘Don’t you believe it.’
Within a few moments, the lamb had reached up and found a teat and was butting strongly with its head at its mother’s belly. The ewe curved its neck and sniffed and licked at the lamb, which wagged its tail like a puppy.
‘Look at it,’ said Fry.
‘A new life coming into the world,’ said Cooper. ‘It’s always a bit of a special moment.’
‘I can never sec it often enough,’ said Malkin, and they exchanger! a meaningful look that Fry couldn’t interpret, but which excluded her from its meaning.
‘Have we hnishcd?’ Cooper asked her, unbuttoning his overall.
‘Er, yeah,’ she said, though she barely felt able to drag herself away from the lambing pen.
‘If Mr Malkin remembers anything, I’m sure he’ll contact us.’
Fry took the hint and presented Malkin with her Derbyshire Constabulary business card. Malkin took it between his thumb and forefinger, so as not to stain it. The card was white and shiny and pristine, and it looked as out of place in the lambing shed as if it had been an alien artefact from Mars.
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Diane Fry walked back to the car while Ben Cooper asked to wash his hands. Malkin tapped him on the shoulder before he left. ‘You’re not a had lad/ he said. ‘I reckon you live on your own, am I right?’
‘How on earth can you tell?’
Malkin gave him a sly wink. ‘Like they say, it takes one to spot one. Have you got a good-sized pocket inside that coat? I het you have.’
‘Yes.’
‘Stick this in it then. It’s very fresh - you’ll just have to clean it.’
He pushed a parcel wrapped in newspaper into Cooper’s hand. Cooper felt at it for long enough to he sure that it wasn’t a couple of kilos of crack cocaine or an illegal weapon he was being handed.
“I don’t think J can take it,’ he .said.
‘Don’t be daft, lad. There’s no harm in it. But don’t tell your sergeant, eh? She wouldn’t understand.’
Malkin winked at him again. Cooper was aware of Uianc Fry waiting for him outside, but he was also conscious of the need to preserve this man’s goodwill if he was going to get at his memories.
‘I can only take it if I pav you something for it, Mr
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Malkin,’ he said.
