Here's chapter 9 of The Ram.

The Welsh Mountain Ram 9

Briony Betrayed wife and mother.
Sion Her eight-year-old son.
Ellairy Her nine-month--old daughter.
Arfon Brionys’ unfaithful husband.
Dave. Welsh bachelor hill-farmer.
Jenny and Lassie Daves’ sheepdog bitches.
Laddie. Daves’ sheepdog.
Jessica and Pansy Daves’ sows.
Angel Daves’ mare.
Daphne Daves’ ‘girlfriend’
Cledwyn. Farmer further down the valley (Neighbour.)
Blodwen Cledwyn’s daughter.
Rachel Daphne’s TV friend.
Shirley Rachels’ GG wife.

Sion continued sitting on Daphnes’ lap which pleased Briony. Her son was at least at ease with the discovery and demonstrated it by continuing to make himself comfortable against Daphnes’ breasts. Briony gave Daphne a searching look to ascertain if Daphne was at ease with the innocent intimacy. Daphne nodded slowly and sat quietly savouring the peace and quiet as Sion slowly dozed off. The cold morning in the barn had taken its toll and Sion was sleepy. Daphne had been up all night so Briony was not surprised when Daphnes’ head also began to droop. Briony watched as first Sion and then Daphne nodded off while she sat comfortably on the sofa with Ellairy still suckling at her breasts.

‘The more Ellairy Drank now, the less demands she’d make later,’ Briony concluded as she lay back to savour the calm before the looming preparations for Christmas dinner. She wasn’t surprised to find herself being woken by the cooking timer alarm at eleven.

She sat up to see Daphne putting the veg on and she gently placed Ellairy beside the still sleeping Sion on the other end of the settee. Daphne turned and smiled.

“Ahh, good. You’re awake. Can you watch the kitchen and the kids while I lay the dining room table?”

“My pleasure; eating in style are we?”

“Well it’s my pleasure as well. This will be the first proper, ‘round the table’ Christmas dinner in this house since mummy died.”

“What about when your Nan was here?”

She and Dad used to take me to my aunties’ every Christmas. My mums’ sisters used to get together at a different house each Christmas but I always felt a little out of it. I missed my mummy and her sisters only reminded me of her. They’re very alike. When Grandma died, I stopped going. I was eleven and most of my cousins were much younger. After grandma died, my dad and I used to have a small dinner around this kitchen table. We didn’t celebrate Christmas much because that’s when mummy died, though I never went short of presents.”

“Did you miss Christmas?”

“I missed my mam. She died just before Christmas because of the snow. We didn’t have the big 'eight thousand' tractor then and the little Ferguson wasn’t man enough to clear the road. There was no helicopter either because of the weather. Mam died in her bed and the baby died with her. She would have been my sister.”

A tear leaked again down Daphnes’ cheek but she quickly stemmed it with a tissue. Briony was glad that Daphne was strong enough to display her feelings. She reached out and gave Daphne a desperately tight hug until it was obvious that Daphne had collected herself. Daphne extricated herself gently and hooked the passage door back to make it easy to carry the food to the dining room. Then Briony heard the clink of cutlery and glass from the dining room. As she started serving the veg into the dishes, Daphne re-appeared with three plates to warm by the Aga.

“Time to take the bird out, I think. Hope it’s cooked properly.”

They both held their breaths as Daphne extricated the goose and placed it on the kitchen table. After pausing reverently, they woke Sion so that he could witness the carving of the bird.

“It smells nice.” Sion observed as Daphne stood poised with carving knife and fork in hand.

“We can carve it here then serve the veggies at the table.” Briony suggested.

“Okay. D’you want to carve or make the gravy?” Daphne asked Briony.

“You have to carve,” Sion interrupted.

Daphne turned curiously.

“Oh, why young man? Why can’t your mummy carve?”

“Carving’s the fathers’ job. It’s tradition; all the films show the father carving the turkey.”

“But I’m not your father” Daphne replied.

“But I want you to be. My other Dad is horrible. Mummy can divorce him like the other kids in school.”

Daphne was at something of a loss for words for she was afraid that saying anything could create a problem. She glanced anxiously towards Briony whilst her eyes pleaded for help. The problem was that Briony felt herself in the same predicament. She didn’t want to close any doors and yet she didn’t want to pre-empt the situation by appearing too eager or too predatory. Both girls realised what the problem was and each recognised the others’ dilemma, consequently they fell into hysterics. Naturally, the laughter went straight over Sions’ head but it served to break the tension. Eventually, they recovered their composure and somehow, though neither of them would later remember how, they found themselves in each others’ arms. Sion looked on bemused. Fortunately the embrace resembled a normal, tactile, female friendship bond as much as it did a meeting of sexual attractions. Then the pair realised that Sion was watching. Fortunately their lips had just brushed, kissed briefly and then parted. When they separated, Daphne started carving the goose while Briony made gravy from the juices in the cooking tray and the water from the vegetables. Sion had noted that Daphne had chosen to carve and drawn his own conclusions.

“Are you going to be my dad?”

Daphne paused with the carving knife in her hand as she searched for a suitable answer. She failed to find one and sighed an apology.

“I don’t know Sion. That would be for your mummy to decide and there are a lot of hurdles to clear before we could consider it. You mentioned divorce just now; well divorce is a very painful and complicated step. I’d rather you didn’t talk about divorce, it upsets your mummy.”

Sion turned to Briony.

“Does it mummy?”

“Yes darling. It does and everything has to go through the courts. Nobody wants their family lives dragged through the courts and the newspapers. Now, I’d rather you didn’t ask about it anymore.”

Sion fell silent and watched the goose being carved. Daphne smiled at him then asked.

“D’you want a drum stick?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s this,” Daphne stuck the carving fork into the goose’s severed leg and held it for Sions’ inspection.

“Can I try a bit first?”

“By all means.” She cut a neat slice off and placed it on Sions’ plate.

He tasted it and grinned.

“Mmm. It’s nice.”

“Good. Now can you take that sauce through to the dining room and come back for the vegetables?”

Keen to be helpful, Sion did as asked. When he returned. The meat was neatly parcelled out and the adults were preparing to carry the serving bowls. Daphne handed the carrots to Sion while she and Briony carried the rest. Sion stood gaping at the table then grinned as he was asked to take his seat. After Briony portioned out his food, he was about to tuck in but his mother censured him.

“Prayers first, and I have to get your sister. Help Daphne with the crib please.”

Once Ellairy was laid down beside Briony, they finally settled to the table. Briony said prayers and Sion wondered why.

“I’ll explain one day darling, but not now,” Daphne replied softly.

Briony sensed the bitterness in Daphnes’ demeanour and concluded that Daphne had issues with faith, however, Christmas dinner was not the place to discuss them. Once again, the hidden agenda passed over Sions’ head and he simply waited while Briony concluded the prayer. The meal was mostly taken up with Angel, the foal and Sions’ prospective ownership. By the time pudding was finished, all three were tired. They retired to the drawing room where Sion curled up on an arm-chair while Briony and Daphne fell asleep in each others’ embrace. None of them woke until Ellairy demanded her afternoon feed.

While Briony fed her daughter, Sion bullied Daphne into visiting the foal again. As they entered the loosebox, Daphne asked Sion.

“What are you going to name her?”

“Why? Can I?”

“She’s your foal and most foals have names.”

“I don’t know. What sorts of names do horses have? Those names on television seem stupid to me, naming a horse after a window company or a bank is daft.”

Daphne struggled to hold a snort of mirth.

“Darling, those are sponsored names. They’re not the names the owners use; those are television names like actors and film stars use different names. Your foal was born on Christmas day so why not name her something Christmassy?”

Sion furrowed his brow as he tested several names in his mind. Finally he grinned...

There’s a girl in my class named Gabriella, she’s nice.” “How about Gabriella? Gabby for short.

“You mean after the Archangel who announced Jesus?”

Sion nodded and the deal was done.

“Gabriella it is then.” Daphne confirmed. “Born of an Angel, that’s a nice story to tell when people ask.”

Sion reached out and gave the foal one last affectionate hug then squealed when Angel gave his hair an inquisitive lick. Daphne chuckled then smiled.

‘The bond is made,’ she concluded. ‘It wasn’t every day that a foal let a stranger hug it and it wasn’t every day that the mare let a stranger near her newborn foal. Sion was one lucky, lucky kid.' With the visit concluded, Daphne opened the loosebox door into the barn proper. This allowed Mare and foal access to the larger barn where they could move around freely until the weather improved. Sion watched his foal galloping easily alongside her mother and he envied the little creature.

“Look she can run already.”

“Yes, horses are quick to learn. Come on; let’s see what’s for tea.”

“I’m still full after Christmas Dinner,” Sion protested feebly.

As they returned across the yard, Daphne decided to give the kid a bit of fun and work off some of the Christmas Dinner. She fell back a couple of yards then flicked a snowball at Sions’ head. It splattered harmlessly against Sions’ shoulder but it prompted Sion to retaliate. In seconds, it was a full blown snow-ball fight with Sion pursuing Daphne around the front of the house where Briony spotted the pair shrieking with laughter as they pelted each other on the front lawn. Briony could not resist joining in and promptly stepped out through the front door to support her son against Daphne. Within minutes Daphne was capitulating and begging for quarter as she fell over in the snow. Immediately, Sion pounced on her and pushed a snowball down her blouse.

Daphne let go a girly squeal and ‘surrendered’ whereupon Sion declared himself the victor. Briony was a little bemused by the scenario but pleased that Daphne had shown the understanding to recognise Sions’ needs.

For once, Sion had been allowed to win at something; a situation that his real father had always denied him. Sion and Daphne sat squealing with laughter for a few more seconds before Daphne declared she was getting cold and needed to change. The trio retreated inside and Briony served up some trifle with mince pies while Daphne retreated to her bedroom to change. She returned wearing a beautiful frock with a bolero jacket and a beautiful light brown wig. She was almost unrecognisable from the Daphne in jeans and jumper who had retreated upstairs earlier. Briony stared at her with envy.

“My God girl! You really do scrub up well, don’t you?”

Even Sion stared in disbelief at the elegant lady who now joined them at table.