The Ufonauts (Part One)

© 2013 David Jasmin-Green

“Looks like we're going to have to sell these animals now,” Alan Connor said to his son as they fed the goats in the bottom pasture. It was the first time he had said much more than a muffled yes or no to Brett in the six weeks since he lost his wife of forty odd years to breast cancer, and Brett hadn't tried to force his father into conversation because to be truthful he didn't feel much like talking himself.

“Maybe not, dad,” Brett said. “I know you're a cattle man through and through and you were never much interested in the goats, but as you know I've been learning the ins and outs of goat cheese production since mum fell ill, I'm a dab hand at it now, and we've made a fair profit from the stock ever since she bought her first half a dozen youngsters at the end in the nineties.”

“I don't just mean the goats, son, I mean the cattle and the pigs, the whole bloody lot. I'm sixty seven years old and I've had enough, I want to retire. I can't bear living in this place for much longer, it's too full of memories of June and other, less substantial ghosts..... The house, the farm, it all means nothing to me without her. She was the life and soul of the place until the heartless bastard that I've always regarded as my master and saviour so cruelly took her away and abandoned me to the sodding devil.”

As the old man spoke a single fat tear ran down his cheek. It was the only time that Brett had ever seen his father cry, even during his mother's horribly prolonged, agonised and admittedly grossly unfair death. Alan Connor had always kept his emotions, along with the bulk of his thoughts, to himself, and he sat through the entire horrible affair holding June's hand and saying very little. His mum was a lovely woman and she never had a bad word to say about anyone, Brett reflected - surely she had deserved a more peaceful and dignified end than the awful hand that fate decided to deal her.

“I guess it's natural to feel like that after losing mum,” Brett said, “but I'm sure it'll pass, given time. You need to think long and hard before you make such a big decision, you know, dad - this is the wrong time to sell a farm, even a fairly successful one, because the economy is fucked and we'd only get a fraction of what it's worth. And this is the family home, you were born here as was your father before you. And what about mine and Sophie's future and future of the little one on the way? All you've ever talked about since I was a nipper is me taking over the farm when you're too old to run it yourself. I'm thirty two, I'm too old to start thinking about doing something else.....”

“It's not just my age and losing your mother that's eating at me, Brett. Other things have changed, things that I can't comfortably speak about, so don't bother asking. If you want to take over the farm I'll hand it all over to you and Sophie legally, we'll sort it all out next week, but I have to leave, and I have to go soon.

I know what you think, but I'm not being selfish because I was thinking about your future as much as my own. To tell you the truth, though, I don't think you should stay here either; I know it sounds daft, but it's not safe any more, especially now Sophie is having a baby. I reckon we should sell up and move on, preferably to the middle of a city or a decent sized town where you can't see more than a little wedge of sky and we'll be surrounded by anonymous faces instead of being marooned in an empty, lonely, godforsaken place like this. This land had been poisoned, son, it's irreversibly tainted, it's as dirty as fuck. Anyway, it looks like rain, so I'm off to feed the cattle before it pisses it down. You doing the pigs?” Brett nodded.

“I don't understand what you're getting at, dad. I reckon you're slowly but surely slipping into a rut, and if you don't do something about it you're going to have a right struggle climbing out. I think you should make an appointment to see Doctor Amis, maybe she can help.”

“I don't need a doctor, or a shrink, if that's what you're thinking,” Alan lied, because secretly he had already seen both. “And I didn't ask you to understand, Brett. If it's any consolation I don't understand either – I don't think anyone can understand what's happening to me.”

*************************

“Not tonight, Sophie,” Brett said to his wife of nearly five years that night as she kissed his neck and stroked his flaccid, useless manhood. “I'm sorry, but I'm not ready yet. I'll feel better soon, hopefully.....

I'm worried about dad. He broke his silence today, he reckons he's thinking of selling the farm and moving on. He can't live with the memories of mum, he said, but there's more to it than that. He said this place is tainted and poisonous. He also said that if I want to take over he'll sign it all over to us. Something odd's going on in his mind, something really worrying, so keep a wary eye on him, please, I can't watch him every minute of the day. He even said he might consider moving to the city, somewhere real crowded – do you remember how much the crowds upset him when we took him to London for the weekend? I asked him to go and see a doctor, he's depressed, I guess, but he won't have it. He says something is happening to him that no one's capable of understanding.”

“It's just losing your mum, love, bereavement affects everyone in a different way. And I shouldn't worry too much about what he's said, people come out with all sorts of crap that they don't mean when they've lost a loved one. I suppose all we can do is be there for him if or when he needs us..... Alan is besotted with this farm, and a little bit at a time his love of the place will come back, you just wait and see.”