Honey's Farm by Iris Gower

married life, she lay without the joy of her husband’s arms holding her safe in their bed before sleep claimed them.
    In the morning, after milking, Fon took Patrick to the wood to check on the cows that were in calf. It was a fine day, with a haze of heat mist hanging over the fields. Except for the sound of the birds in the trees, the world seemed a silent place.
    Jamie had been awake and out to the fields before she’d risen from bed, and Fon ached to talk to him, to reassure herself that everything was all right between them.
    â€˜Moo-moo,’ Patrick said softly, and Fon looked in the direction he was pointing.
    One of the cows was leaning into the hedge, head down, and somehow Fon knew that something was wrong. She moved closer and saw that the animal’s flanks were thinner than they should be for six months in calf. She put her hand to her mouth.
    â€˜
Duw!
’ she said softly, realizing with a feeling of chill that the cow had aborted of her calf. She looked around the soft fields, under the hedgerows near where the sick animal stood, and eventually found the corpse of the tiny premature calf.
    She trembled. Something was wrong, very wrong; healthy cows did not slip their young so easily.
    â€˜Moo-moo sleeping.’ Patrick pointed to the calf, and Fon took his hand, leading him away. She made her way towards the open fields where Jamie was working, knowing that the news she must give him would cause dismay. To lose animals was always a tragedy, but to lose calves meant something was seriously wrong with the stock.
    Jamie was bent over the furrows where the summer potatoes protruded through the soil. His shirt sleeves were rolled up above big muscles, his thick neck standing strongly free of his collar.
    Fon stared for a moment, watching him, wanting to go into his arms and make him tell her he loved her. Instead she spoke to him calmly, her voice even, her eyes refusing to meet his.
    â€˜There’s trouble,’ she said quietly. ‘One of the cows has aborted. It looks like the cow sickness.’
    Jamie straightened and stared at her frowning. ‘Go back to the farmhouse. Stay right away from the cows in calf, do you understand?’
    Fon was taken aback. Anyone would think she had caused the animal to fall sick. ‘But, Jamie, perhaps I can help,’ she said, and Jamie brushed the earth from his hands without looking at her.
    â€˜Do what I say. Take my son back to the house. Keep him indoors until I come.’
    Without a word, Fon led Patrick back to the farmhouse, and as soon as he was occupied with his toys she began to build up the fire, ready to heat the oven for the dough she had proving in the hearth.
    What had gone wrong with her marriage, she wondered. It seemed that Jamie couldn’t even trust her with the animals now. She sank down at the table and stared at her hands. They were grimed with dust from the udders of the milk cows as well as streaked with coal. She rose and went to the pump in the yard and washed diligently before dealing with the bread-making.
    Later, Jamie and Tommy came back to the farmhouse, and Fon heard them talking outside at the pump. She could not hear the words but she sensed from his tone that Jamie was very troubled.
    They ate in silence, and Fon, still smarting from the tone of Jamie’s voice, didn’t attempt to make conversation. Tommy glanced at her worriedly and Fon stared back at him until the boy looked away in embarrassment.
    It wasn’t until she and Jamie were working at the books that she managed to get the words out that had been irking her all day.
    â€˜Is it my fault the cow is sick?’ she asked quietly. Jamie looked at her in surprise. ‘Is it something I did wrong in the feeding, or what?’
    â€˜Of course not. What in God’s sweet earth gave you that idea?’
    She wanted to tell him that he did, his tone of voice intimating that she had mishandled the situation, but she kept quiet,