A chapter that describes the friends settling in for a brief holiday at Plas Graig Las.

The Welsh Mountain Ram 22

Briony... Betrayed wife and mother.
Sion... Her eight-year-old son.
Ellairy... Her nine-month--old daughter.
Arfon... Brionys’ abusive and unfaithful husband.
Dave Cadwalloder... Welsh bachelor hill-farmer.
Jenny and Lassie... Daves’ sheepdog bitches.
Laddie... Daves’ sheepdog.
Jessica and Pansy... Daves’ sows.
Angel... Daves’ mare.
Gabriella (Gabby)... Angels’ foal (Gift to Sion.)
Elsbeth... Briony’s sister.
Daphne... Daves’ ‘girlfriend’
Cledwyn... Farmer further down the valley (Neighbour.)
Blodwen... Cledwyn’s daughter.
Rachel... Daphne’s TV friend.
Shirley... Rachels’ GG wife.
Fajita... The maid.
James & Tara... Rachel’s teenaged children (16 & 15)
Billy and Janet... Manager and accountant at Daphne’s club.
Terry... New Zealand Shepherd.

The Ram 22.

Sunday dawned cold bright and clear as the house grew progressively noisier as people stirred.
Normally, Dave would be the first to rise, but Blodwen, being from a farming background, was up before him. Dave was pleasantly surprised and a little relieved to find Blodwen busy in the kitchen when he came down.

“Aww! Thanks love, you’re a brick. Can you help me get my shirt over this stupid shoulder cast?”

Blodwen put down the spatula and quickly sorted out the shirt. It was an old one and had been split at the seam to accommodate the plaster and split. Dave grinned.

“It was easier with a strappy dress, Daphne’s got it easy, this is just a bloody nuisance.”

“How long before it comes off.”

“If the pain is gone, I can go to Birmingham next weekend.”

“And is the pain reducing?” Blodwen pressed.

“A bit, hard to say when it’ll be gone though.”

“Well, once the weather eases, I’ll have to get back to work. You’ll have to get a permanent labourer; I would suggest somebody from the LGBT scene. Then Daphne can indulge herself.”

“You’re probably right,” Dave replied. “Though more probably a masculine gay who’s tolerant and accepting of tee-girls. It needs somebody with muscle and technique to ‘man-handle’ sheep when shearing and dipping time comes around.”

As they chatted, the others started drifting down to breakfast. Sion’s eyes fell on Dave and Blodwen had to smile a little at the flicker of disappointed confusion. She pulled Sion into an embrace and grilled him affectionately.

“You prefer Daphne don’t you?”

Sion hesitated then nodded ever so slightly as he whispered a barely audible yes.

Dave turned to him and smiled as he placed a bowl of porridge in what had become Sion’s favoured seat by the window where he could look out over the fields and both approaches, the main front drive and the more frequently used side lane. Then he reached down, swept Sion up in his good right arm and gave him a firm but not too tight hug, just the sort of hug Daphne gave. Finally he kissed Sion on the forehead as he assured him.

“Daphne is here Sion, she’s me, she’s in my head, it’s just that sometimes Dave has to come out to do work around the farm. It’s only Dave’s clothes that Daphne’s wearing, okay?”

“And his hair ... that pony tail.” Sion added.

“Well Daphne sometimes puts her hair up in a ponytail Sion, it’s just that she puts the band slightly higher on her head, you’ll see when she goes riding once the snow is clear. You can rest easy, Daphne’s always here.”

Sion smiled and dug into his porridge as the others looked at him and Dave then smiled. Rachel grinned as she remarked.

“You’re fond of that kid.”

“I’m fond of any child of Briony’s.”

Briony smiled as she settled to a breakfast that she hadn’t had to prepare.

“I could grow to like this.”

Blodwen chuckled.

“Don’t get misled girl, when the weather breaks, Dave‘ll be up and out early. You’ll have to get Sion ready for school and the school bus picks up at a quarter to eight from the lane.”

“Oh it’s not that bad Blod;” Dave protested. “After Nan died I got myself ready from aged eleven. Dad was up and out early.”
Blodwen grinned.

“Yeah, and who always had to put your tie straight, check your face for dirt?”

“You were just fussy.” Dave grinned.

Blodwen wagged her head in mock despair as Briony recognised the deep friendship that had always been there between Blodwen and Dave.

‘Truly, had Blodwen not been gay, they would have ended up lovers and married,’

Briony reaffirmed her earlier conclusions. The three real women Shirley, Blodwen and Briony exchanged womanly smiles as they recognised the issues. However Rachel and ‘Daphne’ were equally alert to the nuances crossing the table. The adults all fell to chuckling as Tara and James looked puzzled.

“What?” James demanded. “What’s the joke?”

Sion piped up with perspicacity beyond his years.

“You wouldn’t understand anyway James. It’s grown up stuff.”

James glared at Sion and demanded.

“What do you know then?”

“I don’t,” Sion confessed readily, “I’m not grown up.”

“Well I am!” James addressed the table generally. “So what’s the joke?”

“It’s nothing much, lad,” Dave replied. “It’s a ladies joke and it involves me as a child. Only parents would laugh at this or kids who’ve had to bring themselves up.”

“And both Dave and me lost our mums early James, so we had to fend for ourselves.” Blodwen added. “We were laughing because the image of a mother giving her kids, particularly her sons, a once over with spit on a handkerchief is an image as old as parenthood itself. It’s just the image of a twelve-year-old girl wiping a twelve-year-old boys neck with her handkerchief adds a certain additional, amusing imagery to the scene. That’s what we women were laughing about.”

James frowned then added.

“Yeah, Aunty Shirley even tried it on at the station when she met us off the train in Manchester. I had to push her away, it was embarrassing.”

“Yeah but your neck was dirty.” Shirley declared.

“It wasn’t!” James protested.

“It was,” Tara added as she joined forces with the older women.”

James cursed as he concluded he wasn’t going to win the argument.

“I can’t win here, even the men are women.”

“This brought a roar of laughter from everybody and James finally felt at ease. He had made everybody laugh, even the men. He was glad when he realised the 'men' were indeed, not insulted..

“You’ve got it in one son, and I applaud you for it. Well done lad.” Rachel chuckled.

“You didn’t do badly for one so outnumbered,” Dave added. “D’you want to come out on the tractor and check the sheep?”

James’s eyes lit up.

“Can I drive it?”

“After we’ve fed the sheep, I’ll give you a lesson at the wheel. Sion will show you what to do feeding the sheep. It’s not rocket science.”

“Huh. All you do is chuck mangles out to the sheep.”

“What are mangles,” James asked.

“They’re like turnips but bigger and more orange colour.” Sion explained, happy to demonstrate his greater knowledge.

“Can I feed Gabby the foal?” Tara begged.

“Yes, just don’t excite them.” Dave cautioned. “Blod, will you show her which food goes to which animals please while we’re out feeding the sheep?”

“Okay.”

They chatted around the table in high good humour and Dave couldn’t help savouring the atmosphere.

“This is what this house is all about,’ He told himself, ‘Rachel’s parties will be like this every time we hold one.’
As he rose to fill the teapot the phone rang and he answered it.

“Oh Hello Brian ... okay, I’ll tell her.” The call was brief and he turned to Briony.

“Your car’s ready.”

“What’s the damage?”

“Suspension arm, track rod, trailing arm and the drive CV joint.”

“I didn’t mean that, I meant how much. All that CV stuff is gobbledygook to me.”

“Three hundred and fifty.”

Briony’s expression greyed.

“Shit! I can’t afford tha-.”

Dave interrupted her before she could even finish.

“Don’t be daft girl. You’re with me now. You can’t function out here without your car. I’ll see Brian about it on Tuesday. That’s a reasonable price. We’ve got to go into Machynlleth on Tuesday anyway, it’s market day.”

“Oooh can we come?” James begged.

“Yeah. It’ll be a day out,” Dave replied which caused Blodwen to snort with laughter as she tried to contain her mouthful of tea.

“What now?” James wondered aloud.

Blodwen recovered her composure and explained to the rest.

“A day out in Machynlleth! Really Dave, you’ll be leading these kids astray I suppose.”

Dave grinned.

“It’s not that bad Blod.”

“Bloody hell Dave! Why do you think I left home? The highlight of our childhoods was a flipping market day in Machynlleth; all sheep-shit, shouting and farmers in bloody wellies.”

“Oh come on Blod there were other things to do.”

“Yeah, a wet Tuesday in Machynlleth. I suppose you could really lead them astray and take them to Chapel. Watch out you don’t end up being baptised kids!”

Even Dave smiled at that one. He long knew the reasons for Blodwen leaving home. Her undeclared sexuality had more or less forced her to use university as a stepping stone. The climate of the nonconformist chapels had also caused her to despair for Blodwen had been forced to attend right up to going to college. Dave had been luckier insofar as his dad was not religious and Dave’s skills were needed on the farm even on Sundays.

The last time Blodwen attended chapel she had had a terrible argument with the minister and one of the deacons about homosexuality and she had almost, but not quite, ‘come out’ to them. Only her respect for her dead mother and ailing father had prevented her for she knew she would still have to come home each term and face the people of Machynlleth. Small town Wales could be a very oppressive place. She also owed Dave an incalculable debt in his turning up trumps and helping to run both farms while she held onto her lesbian sanity in college and later in Birmingham. Blodwen knew her debt to Dave was immeasurable. Thanks to him, her father was still alive and she still stood to inherit the farm. Had Dave not taken on the unbelievable responsibility for both farms at the incredibly tender age of nineteen, Blodwen’s father would be dead now. The workload would have killed him as he grew sicker.
As her Architectural practice had prospered, Blodwen knew she could do a lot of the work on-line. If she and her partner were to have children now, the farm would be a brilliant place to raise them, especially as they would have Dave and Briony’s children as neighbours in Plas Las.

‘The hills would be alive with children’s laughter during those long summer holidays,’ she surmised. ’Not like the long lonely days of her late teens and early twenties, when she walked the hills alone after coming down from uni.' Dave was there but he had to tend the flocks with little time to spare to share with her.’

Though she knew he would have jumped at the chance to share those days with her, despite having found out by then that she was gay. They were still fond of each other but Blodwen hadn’t learned to drive so she couldn’t get out while Dave was too exhausted at night after already starting to look after two flocks. The rare weekends when they did get out, Blodwen was more interested in girls and Dave still hadn’t ‘confessed’ that he was transgendered. Blodwen reflected on that issue as well.

‘Being transgendered still seemed to carry more censure than being gay and Blodwen’s realising that, after Dave had finally revealed it to her, brought home to Blodwen just how damnable life must have been for Dave.’

“Penny for your thoughts Blod?” Dave disturbed her from her introspections.

“I was just thinking,” Blodwen confessed. “We’ve been really lucky this year, you and Briony, me and Sarah my partner.”

“Aye Blod, things do seem to have taken a nice turn. Just out of curiosity, when are you going back to Brum?”

“Unless something unexpected turns up, not until the end of January. Sarah’s my full partner, she can handle everything.”

“I’m so pleased, Briony will like the company and you can help her deal with any wrinkles concerning the house.”

Dave poured out more tea into several cups without being asked then he turned to Rachel and Shirley.

“When are you going back?”

“I have to be back in Manchester tomorrow,” Rachel explained.

“And Shirley?” Dave pressed. “Does she have to go?”

Shirley sensed the unspoken invitation to stay and quickly intervened.

“Well, I don’t have to go back with Rach’, but I haven’t got a car to get home if Rachel returns alone.”

“There’s plenty of cars to get you to Newtown station or even Birmingham.” Dave observed. “There’s mine, Blodwens and Briony will have hers by Tuesday.”

Shirley turned to Rachel with an inquiring expression.

“D’you mind if we stay?”

“I’ll have to speak to James and Tara’s mother. They’re only supposed to be with me for the weekend. Technically I should return Tara tomorrow night. James is free to decide for himself.”

“You’d better call her now then.” Shirley pressed. “Sooner we know, the sooner we can organise something about staying here longer.”
Rachel nodded and pulled a face but Shirley insisted that she contact her ex. Rachel did as asked and an expectant silence settled around the table. After exchanging strained greetings, Rachel got straight to the point and asked if Tara could stay for the week. She handed the phone to Tara.

“She wants to speak to you.”

Tara took the phone and everybody could immediately sense the tension. Tara’ was calm at first but slowly her voice rose as the conversation continued. Eventually, Tara offered a curt-

“Well thanks! And the same to bloody you!” then slammed the receiver down.

“Well that didn’t seem to go too well then. Can you stay” Rachel checked.

“She’s got her bloody new boyfriend with her. He’s loathsome and he’s always eyeing me up.”

“I didn’t ask what she was doing; I asked can you stay ... here at Plas Las?”

“I told her I’m not going home while he’s there. He works nights and he’s always around the house when mum’s at work. It’s okay when I’m at school but during the holidays he’s there when I’m there alone. He’s creepy.”

Rachel cast an inquiring look in James’s direction. James nodded ruefully.

“He tries to boss us about and yes, his eyes are all over Tara. We stay together when he’s around. Mum can’t or won’t see it. That’s why I’m staying there until Tara’s sixteen. I don’t trust him either. We’re coming to stay with you as soon as.”

“It’ll be cramped son. Your mum’s got the house. Shirley and I still share an apartment in the Manchester gay village.”

“We’d prefer to live in a shed than stay with the creep.” Tara sniffed. “Anyway, in answer to your question she says we can stay
until the end of the holidays.”

“Which is?”

“January the twelfth.”

Rachel turned to Dave with the question writ large in her frown. Dave nodded.

“No problem. They can stay till then. Gives me time to organise labour. I’ve got somebody in mind anyway. Cledwyn’s labourer brought him home after the Royal Welsh Agricultural show. He was a New Zealander competing in the shearing. Some months later I met him in Manchester on Canal Street. At first he was very cagey until he realised who I was. He hadn’t recognised me.”

“Yeah well that figures,” Rachel grinned, “You pass pretty well. D’you know where he lives?”

“He gave me his mobile number but he moves around a lot from job to job. I know he’s gay so he probably finds working for straight-laced farmers a bit of a chore.”

Rachels grin widened then Dave realised his unintentional pun and admitted -.

“Bad choice of words, but you know what I mean.”

The grins spread around the kitchen and only Sion failed to see the pun.

On this note, Dave, James and Sion left to feed the sheep while Blodwen and Briony gave Rachel, Shirley and Tara a tour of the immediate grounds and a re-run around the house. The more Rachel saw, the more she enthused about its suitability for parties. When they met again with Dave the enthusiasm around the lunch table was tangible. James was full of news about being allowed to drive the huge tractor while Rachel was keen to go forward with party arrangements. The chatter rose to crescendos and fell away several times as ideas were mooted deep into the afternoon. The chatter stopped when Dave decided to phone the New Zealander.
The guy Terry, in his early twenties, was shocked to learn that Daphne owned the farm. Terry had thought that Dave simply worked it for some older relative. On realising that ‘The Tranny’ from Manchester had an opening for a shepherd, Terry was more than willing to work for an LGBT boss. He agreed to work a month’s notice for his current boss then he’d turn up at the farm on the second Monday of February. Dave would have preferred it to be earlier but Terry had demonstrated that he was a responsible reliable worker ... not the sort to do a moonlight flit without notice. He also wanted the week off to attend the Royal Welsh Show and Dave, who already stayed home while Cledwyn’s labourer went, found this to be no chore. He could easily manage the farm in the warm summer months. He did for most of the year anyway except during busy seasons like lambing, shearing and dipping.

The Sunday evening was spent by the adults chatting while the younger people played video games. Monday proved to pass similarly except that Rachel had to leave for Manchester and work while Dave had to select some sheep for market On Tuesday; Blodwen appeared with the sheep trailer and a dozen of her own sheep. They loaded Dave’s trailer with his sheep and a miniature convoy set forth for Machynlleth Market.