Page 34 of The Magic of Provence (A Year in France #3)

‘I’ve got some things we’ll need in my clinic,’ Christophe said.

‘Like clean straw and medications. But for the specialist milk replacement for equines, we’ll go to another clinic where a friend of mine works.

Martine has a passion for horses and works in a clinic that specialises in work with big animals. ’

Martine was a tall, blonde woman who had blue eyes and a gorgeous smile that blossomed the moment she opened the door and saw Christophe.

She was more than happy to supply everything he needed – bottles, teats, a big sack of replacement milk powder.

She came out to the car to greet Fi and coo over the tiny foal before they left, and then she hugged Christophe after he opened the driver’s door.

A hug that was tight enough and long enough to make Fi’s heart sink like a stone.

She didn’t want to ask the question but it wouldn’t budge when she tried to push it off her tongue. ‘Martine’s a good friend?’

Christophe’s gaze met hers via the rear-view mirror so swiftly she knew that he’d picked up on what she was thinking. Had it been the tight note in her voice, despite her best effort to keep it casual?

‘We’ve known each other for many years,’ he said. ‘And we… went out a couple of times. A very long time ago.’

‘She seems very nice,’ Fi said, relieved that the need to watch the road meant that the eye contact had been broken. They were past the jumble of ancient buildings of the old walled city of St Paul de Vence and heading up the hill with forest on either side of them, on their way home now.

‘She thought the baby donkey was tellement mignonne – super cute,’ Christophe added. ‘She offered to help care for her.’

Fi swallowed hard. ‘What did you say back?’

His gaze met hers again in the mirror. ‘I said that I had everything I need,’ he said. She couldn’t see his mouth but she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Including you.’

Fi ducked her head, letting her nose brush the foal’s muzzle, hiding her own smile.

* * *

Back at La Maisonette, Fi put the foal, wrapped in a blanket, onto the couch while they made a nest of clean straw in the corner of the living room, after shifting the confit pots.

Christophe checked his watch. ‘It’s time to feed her again. Martine said we need to get all the colostrum into her within the first twelve hours. That’s when the most antibodies are absorbed.’

Fi nodded. ‘I’ll get some hot water to put a bottle in and warm it up to body temperature.’

‘I’ll check the instructions that Martine said are easy to find online, but she said she needs to be fed in a ratio of one hundred mils per kilogram.

She’s about ten kilos now, so that means a litre a day, divided into at least ten feeds.

If she can’t take that much at a time we need to feed more often.

’ He held out the water bottle full of Mary’s milk.

‘We’ve got more than half a litre of colostrum here. ’

Fi took the bottle. ‘I’ve helped bottle raise a foal once, after its mother rejected him. I remember a lot of things.’

Like how to try and persuade the foal to drink from a bottle.

After several futile attempts, she put her index finger in and rubbed the roof of its mouth and waited patiently to feel the foal sucking.

Then, very slowly, she removed her finger, replacing it with the teat.

Christophe was holding the foal in a standing position, one arm supporting her body and his other hand cupping her head, because that was the most natural way for any foal to be feeding.

They’d put just fifty mils into the bottle for this first attempt, partly because they didn’t know how successful they would be and didn’t want to waste a drop of the precious colostrum.

They exchanged a look of what felt like almost triumph when the bottle was empty.

Christophe settled the baby onto the straw.

‘I’ll check her over again,’ he said, ‘in case I missed anything in the forest.’

Fi took the bottle into the kitchen to sterilise it ready for the next feed. By the time she came back, Christophe was draping his stethoscope around his neck.

‘She seems healthy,’ he said. ‘A little weak but her heart sounds strong and her breathing is clear. I don’t think she’s premature, which is a good thing. It gives her a much better chance to survive.’

Fi let her breath out in a sigh of relief and covered the fact that she had to blink back tears by touching a tiny hoof with the odd rubbery growths that she’d seen before on newborn horse foals. They were there to protect the mother during pregnancy and the birth.

‘Fairy fingers, we call these,’ she told Christophe. ‘Or horse feathers.’

His huff of breath was amused. ‘They will fall off very soon, yes?’

‘As soon as she’s standing up. Within a day or two. They look creepy, don’t they?’

‘Creepy?’ Christophe was frowning. He didn’t know the word.

‘Strange. Weird. What is that in French?’

‘ Bizarre .’ Christophe nodded. ‘ Oui. C’est ca .’

‘And the rest of her is so… perfect . Look at those ears…’

The foal was curled up in the straw with her legs tucked in like a cat. She was looking back at them, her head up, although it was wobbling. Her ears weren’t as limp now, either. They were only at half-mast but that just made her look even more adorable.

Fi touched the foal’s face with gentle fingers. ‘She needs a name.’

‘What would you like to call her?’

‘Will she be able to go out in the olive grove with Marguerite and Coquelicot when she’s older? She’ll need role models so that she can learn she’s a donkey. Or will Alain want her back in his herd?’

Christophe’s lips tilted. ‘She’s your donkey now, Fiona, if you want her.’

Fi nodded. She had to clear the sudden lump that had formed in her throat. ‘Then she needs a flower name,’ she said. ‘A French flower name.’

‘I agree.’

Christophe reached to stroke the tiny donkey’s neck. Fi was rubbing the gorgeous ear with its black hair on the outside and long white fluff on the inside. Their hands brushed and Fi felt the electric current of the touch run up her arm and become a warmth that filled her chest.

‘Daisies and poppies are wildflowers, aren’t they?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘So we need a wildflower name. Which ones do you know?’

‘Ah… Bluet ? I don’t know the name in English.’

Fi looked it up online on her phone. ‘It’s a cornflower.’ She tilted her head. ‘What else?’

‘ Pissenlit ?’

It was a dandelion, Fi discovered. She read more and then her jaw dropped. ‘It translates as pissing in the bed? It’s a diuretic?’

Christophe laughed. ‘Yes. A diurétique . It makes you lose water.’

Fi was laughing too and the aftermath of the horrific scene in the forest was fading. ‘We’re so not going to call her Pissenlit .’

‘What about Bouton d’or ? Bouton is a button and or is the word for gold.’

Fi didn’t need to look for a translation. ‘That must be a buttercup. Oh… I love that. And a button is exactly what she is at the moment because she’s so little and cute.’

* * *

Despite the warmth of the late afternoon, they could see a shiver ripple Bouton’s body. Fi was coming back downstairs with a blanket when she saw Ellie out on the terrace. She opened the French doors for her.

‘ Cou cou , Christophe.’ If Ellie thought there was any significance in finding him alone in La Maisonette with Fi, she hid it well. Or perhaps she was totally distracted by what else she could see.

‘Aww… is that a baby donkey ?’

‘Her name is Bouton,’ Fi said. ‘Short for Buttercup.’

‘How old is she?’

‘Just a few hours, I think,’ Christophe said. ‘Her mother was killed by a sanglier .’

‘We’re going to bottle-feed her,’ Fi added. ‘She can live with Marguerite and Coquelicot when she’s a little older. If that’s okay with you?’

‘Of course it is.’ Ellie was crouched beside the straw nest, stroking Bouton’s head. The baby was lying flat again but her eyes were bright and she didn’t seem to mind the amount of attention she was getting.

‘Do you want some nappies to put on her while she’s inside?’

‘That’s a great idea. It’ll make the straw stay clean for much longer. We’ll just need to cut a hole for her tail.’

‘Bonnie’s size might fit for now but I’ll tell Laura to bring some of Lili’s over tomorrow. Oh, Lili and Theo are going to adore Bouton.’

‘It’ll be a while before they can play with her. I think she’s been confused and frightened enough for her first day in the world.’

‘We’ll wait. Or they can just have a peep from the door. And Mam will want to see her before she goes. Oh…’ Ellie gave her head a small shake. ‘That’s what I came over to tell you. She’s busy packing to go back to Scotland tomorrow and… guess what?’

‘What?’

‘Dad’s going with her.’

‘How long for?’

‘There’s no time limit. Mam says they’ll take it one day at a time and if he’s not happy or it’s too much, she’ll come back to make sure he’s home safely. Laura’s going to drive them both to the airport.’

Fi found herself going very still as she absorbed this news. The love was there for her father. From all of them but especially from the woman he had married. He was being given a second chance. A chance to get past the nightmare that had destroyed life as he’d known it.

This was huge.

And just as emotional as having a newborn to nurture.

It was a heady mix of family and love, forgiveness and healing and… hope. It shone like a star that was almost close enough for Fi to touch.

To believe in for herself?

Ellie must have picked up on how overwhelming it was. She wrapped her sister in a tight hug.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked.

‘I’ll let you know,’ Fi said. ‘The next few days are going to be intense, with keeping her warm and feeding her every hour or two round the clock. If Christophe needs to go into work during the day, tomorrow, I might need some help with the feeding but…’ She looked past Ellie to see Christophe tucking the blanket around Bouton and her heart melted. ‘We’ll manage for tonight,’ she said.