Page 28 of Out of the Shadows
COSMO
“The first task of the day is to herd the sheep onto the boat and row them across to Mudflat Island. To recap, this exercise is designed to…”
It’s a drizzly morning and we’re all huddled into our outdoor gear. Nobody wants to be here, and the mood is as gloomy as the weather. Daniel’s standing a few feet away from me, and I peer at him through my lashes. He’s looking bright and alert but then he was probably in bed by nine o’clock. I want to call him a sanctimonious bastard for what happened last night, but let’s be honest, he had every right to be pissed off with me. Plus, it wasn’t the first time I’ve made a tit of myself in front of him.
I hunch my shoulders and push my hands deeper into my pockets. He probably wondered what I was doing. I mean, waking up in the middle of the night and finding a guy lying on top of you… I press my lips together to dam the snigger that’s trying to burst through. Daniel, Mr. Poker Straight Russo, would have had the shock of his narrow, straight life.
The facilitator leads us across a muddy field, towards a truck that’s just pulled up. The hard drizzle has now turned to driving rain, and the already saturated ground is a quagmire, sucking at our feet. The ruddy-faced farmer standing at the back of the truck doesn’t seem to notice the bad weather, and nor does Daniel. For a man who’s a Hot Fox pin up, always so slick, sharp suited and not a hair out of place, he looks pretty damn good in rugged outdoor clothes.Hot Fox — The Country Pursuits edition…I look away, because I don’t want to admit how good he looks being all… well, rugged.
The farmer and the facilitator are doing some kind of double act, but I can’t focus on listening. My gaze slips back to Daniel.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him like this. Even yesterday on the coach journey down, he’d been kind of buttoned up. Smart chinos and shirt, perfectly ironed, not a crease to be seen. And very shiny shoes. The rest of us had been in jeans and sweatshirts, and beaten up trainers. There’s a ripple of low level laughter and I force my attention back to the double act.
“Okay, guys, you know what you’ve got to do and you’ve got an hour in which to do it.” The weaselly-looking facilitator steps back as if to say this has got nothing to do with me. No wonder he’s grinning, showing his little sharp and pointy teeth.
The back of the truck’s flung open and a herd of sheep, stinky and bleating, tumbles out. Their wool’s covered in brown stains, and I don’t even want to think about what they might be, as they scatter across the field. The closest I get to sheep is roast lamb at a pub Sunday lunch, and it’s how I want it to stay.
“What are we supposed to—?”
“Cosmo, Tariq, Amy.” Daniel’s voice cuts across the hubbub. “Position yourselves to the left. Fiona, Jane, Tom, Andy, go to the right. Follow my lead. If we’re going to herd them towards the boat, we need to think of ourselves as sheep dogs. The aim is to gather them into a tight group, which will make funnelling them aboard easier. Come on, let’s go.”
No discussion, this is what we’re doing… But nobody else seems to have a clue on how to herd sheep, so we all jump to it, including me.
What looked like a lot as they’d leaped from the back of the truck are actually only about ten or so. The field we’re in, though big, is also bounded by fences so they can’t run off onto the Dartmoor uplands.
Jesus, this is a waste of time, but how hard can it really be to get the smelly, bleating things up the short ramp and into the waiting boat?
“We’ve got to corral them and hem them in. Like I said, think of yourself as sheep dogs. Don’t let them scatter.”
“Is he a bloody part-time shepherd or something?” I mutter, but nobody hears me as everybody leaps to Daniel’s instruction.
The sheep are nibbling at the sparse grass and we’re all closing in, either side of them. This is going to be a piece of cake, and within no time we’ll be back at the centre and hopefully digging into the cream tea that’s yet to appear.
“Oh no you don’t,” I say to one sheep that stops eating and stares at me as it starts to back away. I look the animal in the eye. There’s malevolence and cunning there. “You, Lamb Chop, are not going anywhere.”
I move forward with the intention of making the sheep scurry back, but it’s got other ideas as it lunges forward to try to zip past me. It’s quick but I’m convinced I’m quicker. I jump for it, but I jump into thin air and wrap my arms around nothing as it darts past me, barrelling into my legs as it goes, bleating its victory as I lose balance and fall face down into the churned up mud and other stuff I don’t want to think of.
“Oh, shit.” I sniff as I push myself up to standing. Yeah, I reckon that’s exactly what it is I’ve fallen into.
“Tariq, good work, well done… You’re doing well Fiona, just keep a tight grip on him… Don’t let him go…”
I can’t help sniggering. Fiona, my not a blonde hair out of place workmate, is filthy and mud smeared as she does her best to grapple a sheep to the ground. There’s a look of hard determination on her face in the battle of Woman versus Sheep. I pull out my phone and take a load of photos. This is going up on social media right now. My fingers fly over the on-screen keyboard.
“Cosmo!”
My head shoots up and I feel like a naughty schoolboy who’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t, which I kind of guess I have.
Daniel’s glaring at me, his blue eyes ablaze and irritated. “What are you doing? Or should I say not doing?”
My sheep wrangling colleagues are too intent on their tasks to take any notice of me, but he’s right, I’m not doing anything and I feel a spasm of guilt and embarrassment.
“There are still a few sheep to catch and we’re running out of time.”And you’re being a lazy, useless bastard, is the subtext. Whatever he thinks of me, lazy and useless are the two things I’m not. “The sheep behind you, you need to get it here now.”
It’sthatsheep, I just know it. Lamb Chop. The one with evil in its eyes. The one who thinks he’s got the better of me. We’re in a stand off, but not for long because this is war and it’s me who’s going to win.
I take slow and steady steps. It’s studying me with cunning malevolence. Even I knowevilandsheepare not words that normally go together, but this one is Satan’s creature.
It’s not very big, in fact none of them are, and I wonder if the outdoors people have deliberately chosen a mini breed for us to tussle with. Lamb Chop has edged back, and is pressed up against a wooden fence. I’ve got the stupid thing trapped, and there’s no way I’m going to let it get the better of me this time. All I need to do is grab it…
