paddocks. They’re bringing in the last of it now.’
‘You’re kidding,’ Meg whispered, but she was staring across to a hay shed which had stood almost empty this morning and now looked three-quarters full. ‘In what-four hours?’
‘We can work when we want to.’ It was Jenny, coming forward to give her friend a hug. ‘We were thinking we’d help after Christmas but when this happened I said to Ian, why not now?’ She cast a curious glance at William. ‘She needs looking after, our Meg.’
‘I do not,’ Meg said, revolted.
‘She doesn’t,’ Scott said and Jenny grinned and hugged him as well until he turned scarlet in embarrassment.
‘Okay, she doesn’t. As long as you and Letty stop doing darn fool things when she’s not around,’ Jenny retorted.
‘I’m going to be around,’ Meg said. ‘I’ll try and find a job locally. I… I don’t want to be away any more. But for now…thank you all so, so much. I’m incredibly grateful. But I need to get Letty inside. She needs to sleep.’
‘I’ll carry her,’ William said but one of the neighbours stepped forward and lifted Letty from the car before he could.
‘We’re local,’ he said to William, quite kindly, but firmly for all that. ‘We look after our own. Cows are on their way up now, Meg. You want some help with tonight’s milking?’
‘You’ve done enough,’ Meg said.
‘This guy’ll help?’ It seemed everyone was looking at William.
‘He’s promised to.’
‘Is he any good?’
‘At milking? He has untapped potential,’ Meg said and people laughed and gathered their kids and said their goodbyes and left.
Meg tucked Letty into bed and fussed over her. Scott limped over to the cow yard and William followed.
‘We should start,’ Scott said.
William looked at the brace on Scott’s leg and said gently, ‘Is that okay? That you help with milking?’
‘It has to be. I’m tired of waiting for it to heal.’
‘So it’s not okay.’
‘Meg and Grandma fuss that if my leg gets kicked we have to start over again. But I’ll be careful.’
‘Or not. How about you supervise while I do the hands on?’ William eyed the mass of cows pressing against the yard gate. He eyed the waiting bales. Nothing to this. Except…Maybe you had to do stuff to the vat for pasteurisation or…or something. He didn’t want to waste a whole milking. ‘Do you know how this works?’
‘Course.’
‘Then you give me instructions and leave me to it.’
‘I can help.’ Scott squared his shoulders. ‘I know I was dumb trying to put that Santa up. I never dreamed Grandma’d try and fix it. But I’m not completely helpless. This leg’ll soon be better. I can look after them.’
William looked into his drawn face. He saw reflected horror from this morning’s accident. He saw the unmistakable traces of years of pain and he saw tension, worry, the pain of being a kid without a dad, an adolescent trying desperately to be an adult.
‘I know you can,’ he said softly. ‘If you must. But I’m at a loose end right now, and it seems everything else is taken care of. So you sit on the fence and tell me your plans for your car restoration and in between plans you can tell me how to turn this milking machine on and let these girls get rid of their load.’
Scotty must be exhausted. Meg arrived at the dairy, back in her milking gear, and one glance at her little brother told her he was close to the edge. Physically, he was still frail. This morning would have terrified him and, with all the neighbours here helping, his pride wouldn’t have let him stop.
She wanted to grab him down from the fence, hug him and haul him off to bed. But he was talking to William, who appeared to be underneath a cow, and she knew that pride still played a part here.
‘So you two reckon you can run this place without me?’ she enquired and William emerged from behind the cow and grinned.
‘Nothing to this milking game. I’m about to add Milker to my CV.’
‘How is he, Scotty?’ she asked and then corrected herself. ‘Sorry, Scott.’
‘You can still call me Scotty if you like,’ her brother conceded. ‘In private.’
‘In front of William’s not private.’
‘No, but he’s okay.’
That was a huge concession, Meg thought. There’d been a few guys in her past-of course there had-but Scott had bristled at all of them.
‘Just because he bought you bits of cars…’ she managed, feeling choked up.
‘No, he really is okay. Is Grandma asleep?’
‘Almost,’ she said and here was a way to let him off the hook without injuring any more of that fragile manly ego. ‘She wants to say goodnight to you. Do you reckon you could stay with her while we milk? I’m still a bit worried about her.’
‘Sure,’ Scott said and slid off the fence and again she had to haul herself back from rushing forward to help. ‘Watch William with those cups, though. Four teats, four cups. It’s taking him a bit of time to figure it out.’
‘Hey!’ William said, sounding wounded, and Meg laughed and watched her little brother retreat and thought this was as good as it got.
But it was so fleeting. Tomorrow or the next day, William would be gone.
It was okay. This was the right thing to do. She had no choice but to resign. A PA, hopelessly devoted to her boss? That was pathetic and she knew it.
She glanced at him and thought, dumb or not, she was hopelessly devoted. She had no choice but to get as far from William as possible.
‘He’s a great kid,’ William said and she flushed and started milking and didn’t answer.
‘You don’t agree?’ he asked after she’d cupped her first cow.
‘Of course I agree.’
‘But you’re not talking.’
‘It’s been a big day.’
‘But it’s normal again now,’ he said gently. ‘Though it’s a shame you felt the need to change. I liked your dress.’
‘I’ll wear it again tomorrow.’ She gathered her emotions and told them firmly to behave. Two days max and he’d be gone. ‘Tell me about Pip and Ned. Do you have Christmas gifts for them?’
‘I do.’
‘What?’
‘Bubble guns,’ he said. ‘Battery powered. Ten bubbles a second and they’re seriously big.’
‘You sound like you tried them out.’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’
Whoa… The thought of W S McMaster with a bubble gun… ‘Whereabouts did you try them out?’
‘On my balcony. I sent bubbles over Central Park.’
She giggled. Then she remembered he was going home and she stopped giggling.
‘Meg?’ he said softly from behind a cow.
‘Yes?’
‘Reconsider.’
‘Quitting?’
‘Yes.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Not negotiable,’ she said. ‘Being your assistant means being aloof.’
‘You were never aloof.’
‘I was aloof in my head.’
‘And you’re not now?’
