The Flock

With no mobile signal and no Wi-Fi, the holiday would be a chance to re-connect and wean themselves off their devices...

Photograph by Andrea Lightfoot.

Halloween is almost upon us, so I thought some light horror was in order. Although my stories are never graphic, this might be one to avoid if you are of a particularly sensitive disposition or have a phobia of sheep!

Fran x

‘The house is five-minutes up the track,’ David said, heaving a suitcase out of the car.

Amber groaned. Despite entreaties from Emily to dress appropriately, she was wearing a skirt that barely skimmed her bottom, black leggings and a short-sleeved T-shirt emblazoned with the words Destroy the Patriarchy. Now she was standing with her arms crossed, shivering.

‘I mean, what the fuck Dad?’

‘I told you this place was remote. That’s the point. No Wi-Fi, no phone. It’s an opportunity for us to talk to each other rather than staring at our screens all the time.’

‘If I wanted to talk to you, I could have done it at home.’ Amber kicked a stone off the path, and it landed with a dull thump in the undergrowth.

David ignored this and continued loading their luggage into the wheelbarrow the owners had thoughtfully provided. The location was stunning, even better than the pictures. Hills the colour of ripe bruises rose on either side and a stream - or was it a brook? - Cascaded over lichen-encrusted rocks inches from where they were standing. Emily took the bags that wouldn’t fit in the wheelbarrow. They’d brought food for several days because the village was eight miles away and only reachable via a single-track road.

The track was steep, and he was out of breath when they reached the farmhouse, a sturdy stone building with a slate roof and a small windswept garden. It had featured in a Guardian article about holidaying off-grid, and when he showed it to Emily, she was dubious.

‘What if one of us gets sick and needs to go to the hospital? Or what if there’s a problem at work?’

David reassured her there was a landline for emergencies, and problems at work were exactly what they needed to escape. Amber would benefit the most. When she wasn’t in her room doing who knows what on her laptop – not schoolwork judging by her grades - she was watching TikTok on her phone or messaging her friends. The holiday would be a reset. A chance to re-connect and wean themselves off their devices.

He let the wheelbarrow drop.

‘Look at that view. You can see all the way to the coast.’

A ribbon of grey water was just visible in the distance, and any thoughts he’d harboured about a day trip to the beach faded. It was too far, and the roads were terrible. Better to stay where they were and enjoy the countryside.

‘Can we go in now? I’m freezing.’

Amber was staring at her phone as if willing it into life, and David felt a twinge of satisfaction. There would be books in the house left by previous visitors, and he hoped they would entice her to read. Boredom was a powerful motivator.

The following morning, the sky was overcast, but it wasn’t raining, and David suggested a walk. Amber, who was pouring granola into an earthenware bowl, grimaced.

‘Do I have to?’

‘No, but wouldn’t it be nice to explore? Apparently, there’s an Iron Age fort nearby.’

He’d come across it the previous evening when he was flicking through a pile of brochures. There was a picture of the monument taken from the air showing the defensive ramparts and ditches and an indentation where a roundhouse had once stood. Amber reached for the milk.

‘Seriously? Why do I care about some old ruin?’

It was pointless to argue, but after some chivvying from her mother, she agreed to join them because the only alternatives were reading – there was a shelf of dog-eared paperbacks in the lounge as David had predicted — or staring despondently out of the window at a field of sheep.

These same sheep watched warily as David clambered over the stile that marked the footpath to the fort and held out his hand, first for Emily and then Amber.

‘Is it safe?’ Amber said disregarding his hand. ‘What if they follow us?’

‘That’s cows, darling,’ Emily said. ‘Sheep run away.’

These sheep didn’t run away. They stood their ground, and David had to leave the path to skirt around them with Amber and Emily following close behind. They were halfway across the field when Amber stopped.

‘What’s wrong with that sheep?’

She pointed at a grey mound lying under a hawthorn tree a few metres away, and David’s heart sank.

‘It’s probably sleeping.’ He glanced hopefully at his watch. ‘We ought to keep moving if we want to reach the fort before the rain.’

‘Perhaps it’s injured?’ Amber continued. ‘I’m going to check it’s OK.’

She strode across the wet grass, and David and Emily exchanged a glance. Amber was soft-hearted about animals, once bringing home a half-dead pigeon, which David reluctantly put out of its misery.

‘I’d better go with her.’

He’d almost reached her when Amber screamed. She was staring at the prone sheep with her hand over her mouth. David jogged to her side. A glistening tangle of entrails protruded from a wide gash in the animal’s belly.

‘The poor thing.’ Amber buried her head in David’s jumper. ‘Who would do something like that?’

David smoothed her hair. ‘It was probably dead already, and a fox got it. Or perhaps a bird of prey.’

He was thinking of an eagle, although he wasn’t sure there were any in Wales. Emily was approaching, and he held up his hand to stop her from getting closer. It was no wonder Amber was upset. The sheep was a gruesome sight; its fleece matted with blood and its eyes open and staring.

‘David, look.’ Emily pointed at a group of sheep standing a short distance from the tree. ‘Look at their faces.’

There was alarm in her voice. Not helpful when Amber was having a meltdown, but then he saw what she meant. The sheep’s muzzles were smeared with blood as if they’d been feasting on their companion. His stomach lurched. Fortunately, Amber hadn’t spotted them, but carrying on was out of the question.

She was still clinging to him as he steered her gently away from the dead sheep and towards her mother. Maybe it was as well. The sky was growing darker, and a fat drop of rain splashed against his hand.

‘Let’s go back to the house and have a cup of tea. You’ve had a nasty shock, and it looks as if it’s going to piss down anyway.’

The girls went ahead, and David resisted the temptation to look back until they were safely over the stile. He’d concluded the sheep were suffering from a nutrient deficiency, a theory he later shared with Emily, who said whatever it was, she wasn’t going near them again. This was fine by him. The fort had lost its appeal, and the memory of those blank, bloodied faces lingered uncomfortably at the back of his mind.

It rained for the rest of the afternoon. David lit the wood-burning stove, and Emily found cards and board games in a cupboard. Amber wouldn’t normally have deigned to play, but once she’d recovered from her grizzly discovery, she enjoyed thrashing them at Monopoly, buying up Knightsbridge and Mayfair, and accumulating a hoard of money that made him wonder if she might have a career as an entrepreneur. Emily made a curry, and after several games of snap – which Amber also won - they retired early, worn out by the novelty of speaking to each other.

David fell asleep only to wake at two-fifteen with a dry mouth and a full bladder. Beside him, Emily was snoring softly, and moonlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, indicating the rain had finally stopped. He resisted moving for as long as he could, but the pressure on his bladder made sleep impossible, and eventually he slid out of bed and crossed the landing to the bathroom.

The blind was open, and he was about to close it – more out of habit than necessity – when he noticed the sheep clustered around the gate that led to the track. Normally he wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but rather than standing peaceably, the animals were hurling themselves at the gate as if they were trying to escape. Something must have spooked them, and he wondered whether to contact the housekeeper before dismissing the idea. The sheep weren’t his problem, and she wouldn’t thank him for waking her in the early hours to say they were behaving oddly.

Sleep eluded him for the rest of the night, and at six he went downstairs to make a cup of coffee. To his surprise, Amber was also up.

‘The sheep escaped.’ She pointed at the French doors. ‘They’re all over the garden.’

Although he’d anticipated many things that could go wrong with the holiday — a flat tyre, terrible weather, teenage tantrums — the sheep were an unwelcome addition to his list.

‘I’ll call someone.’

He retrieved the house manual from the shelf by the kitchen door. As well as numbers for the housekeeper and a doctor, there was one for the local vet. It was still early, but they must have out of hours cover for emergencies. He tapped the number into the landline, but instead of a dial tone all he heard was a faint hum. Irritated, he checked the phone was plugged in and dialled again. Still nothing. He slammed the handset down, and Amber looked at him quizzically.

‘Is everything OK, Dad?’

‘The bloody thing’s broken. I’ll have to drive to the village.’

Three escaped sheep were gazing at them through the glass panel in the door, and one pawed the frame with its hoof.

‘They’re trying to get in,’ Amber said, and David detected a wobble in her voice.

‘They’re just curious.’

He banged on the window, but the sheep didn’t move.

‘What’s going on?’

Emily had arrived while they were talking, and David explained about the sheep and the broken phone.

‘Nothing will be open yet, so we might as well have breakfast before I go.’

The sheep was still pawing the door as he made breakfast, and he closed the blind to block them out. Through the window, he could still see the rest of the flock, but rather than browsing, they were staring at the house as if waiting for someone to emerge. Emily noticed them too when she reappeared wearing jeans and yesterday’s blouse.

‘Are you sure it’s a good idea to go out there? Maybe it would be better to wait for the farmer. He’s bound to check on them at some point.’

‘And what if he doesn’t? I won’t let a flock of sheep ruin our holiday, and anyway they’re just sheep. The stupid creatures probably think we’re going to feed them.’

He forced a laugh, but Emily didn’t smile.

‘I’m serious. At least take something to fend them off. You saw what they did to that body.’

‘You’re not suggesting they’re going to eat me?’

David laughed again, but when they’d finished breakfast, he grabbed an umbrella from the stand in the porch. He could still hear the sheep banging against the door, and the animals in the front garden hadn’t moved. Perhaps if they were suffering from some brain disorder, a sheep variant of mad cow disease.

He left through the front door and made Emily and Amber stand back when he opened it. He was afraid the sheep would surge forward, but they merely stared placidly with their creepy sheep eyes. There were several on the path and more by the gate, and David walked confidently towards them brandishing the umbrella. He’d read that you shouldn’t show fear around wild animals.

‘Move,’ he said firmly. The sheep didn’t budge, so he poked one with the umbrella. ‘Move.’ This was a mistake. The sheep emitted an angry bleat, which animated its fellows. Within seconds, he was surrounded. ‘Go away!’

He lashed out hitting several of them, then forced his way through the gap. The sheep followed, and one grabbed his shirt, ripping the fabric. His plan was to close the garden gate behind him and trap the animals, but when he reached it, he found it was wedged in place. A sheep nipped his hand as he was trying to free it, and he warded another off with the umbrella. The gate wouldn’t budge, and when he glanced back, he saw Emily gesturing frantically from a window. He realised he would have to return. The sheep were becoming more aggressive, and if he stayed out longer, he risked a nasty bite.

He shouted to let her know he was coming, but the words were barely out of his mouth when a sheep the size of a small car head-butted his legs and sent him flying. He landed nose-down on the path and instantly the sheep were on top of him, pressing him into the ground.

‘David!’

Emily’s voice was shrill with fear, and he tried to lift his head.

‘Get back in the house.’

‘What?’ And let them kill you.’ He heard a sharp crack and a squeal and the pressure on his body lessened. ‘Get up.’ There was another crack, and he struggled to his knees. Emily yanked him upright. In her other hand, she was holding a poker. ‘Now run.’

Using the poker as a sword, she slashed a path through the sheep that lunged towards them, snapping like dogs. By the time they reached the house, David’s — almost certainly broken — nose was pouring blood and their clothes were ripped where the sheep had tried to bite them.

‘Get in.’

Emily held the flock at bay as she pushed him over the threshold, then tumbled in after him slamming the door. David slid to the floor gasping.

‘You saved me.’

‘Of course.’ Emily joined him. Her face was the colour of putty. ‘I promised to be with you until death do us part, and I wasn’t ready to part yet.’

David looked around. The sheep were no longer hammering at the back door, and the house was disconcertingly quiet.

‘Where’s Amber?’

‘She was here a second ago. She’s probably upstairs.’ Emily offered him a handkerchief to stem the gore dripping from his nose. ‘I’ll go and check she’s OK.’

Above their heads, something skittered across the floorboards, and David’s heart stopped mid-beat. A trail of small pebble-like droppings led from the kitchen to the hall.

Nausea washed over him as he leapt to his feet.

‘Amber!’

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