Second CHANCES

W hat the…?’ The mobile phone buzzing on the bedside table woke me. I reached for it, cursing as I knocked it to the floor. Fighting my way out of the tangled sheets, I followed it, groping blindly. Who calls at five in the morning?

‘Pete? Damn! Be there in 20 minutes.’

I pulled on some clothes, grabbed my car keys, whistled up my dog Taff, and tore out of the yard with the old Land Rover rattling and belching in protest at the speed I was forcing out of it.

By the time I reached the field, Pete had managed to get most of my sheep back in. Taff quickly rounded up the stragglers.

‘Lie down!’ I commanded. With Taff guarding the opening, no sheep would escape.

The tyre tracks in the field explained the wrecked gate.

‘Thanks, Pete.’

‘Hell of a start to the day.’

‘Yeah. No sheep killed though, luckily.’

‘Need help with the gate?’

‘Thanks, I’ll manage.’

I got