BRITLAND CALLING: 4. Conclusion.

Chapter 1. THE HOW TO FOOL A FOOL

THE PARTY TOOK on the low hedge dividing the adjacent fields like a mob of athletes competing in an Olympic steeplechase final. Even Toby hurdled the hedge despite carrying Justin in his backpack.

Meanwhile, the drover was at the head of his heard of a dozen Hereford cows, driving them along a stony path to their imminent execution.

Tommy reached the drover first and the rest of the party piled up behind him. The drover showed no surprise at all—even when Freddy bounced up into Logan's arms. He didn't wear goggles and it was obvious from his eyes that he was one straw short of a bale. The Slaughter Invoice was rolled up and sticking prominently out of the chest pocket of the long woollen coat he had on.

"Afternoon," said Tommy to the drover.

This brought the drover and his Hereford cows to a halt. He tried hard to focus his wondering eyes at Tommy, but he only managed a brief glimpse of Tommy's shoes.

"Hello," said Tommy, trying again.

"Ooh arr," managed the drover, looking downwards at his rubberised Wellington boots.

"Those are Hereford cows, aren't they?" asked Tommy, making polite conversation.

"Aye," said the drover timidly.

"Do you know Mr Finniston?" asked Tommy.

"Never 'eard of 'im," said the drover. "Why's that then?"

"Erm ... he's the owner of the whole of this farm you work on," said Tommy enthusiastically. "He told us all about you. He said you were an excellent drover."

This seemed to take the drover by surprise, and his head wobbled up and his eyes managed to look up at Tommy and around at the rest of the party.

"What's that missy doing 'ere," he said, jumping back a bit when he spied Spade—who had grown back her afro and had taken to blowing kisses at the drover.

"Oh, that's our mascot," said Tommy. "She's only in our workforce to bring us luck. Apparently the crops grow better when she's around because of her lucky hair. It's a liquorice candy floss type of hair, and she can squash it quite easily under her hood ..." Tommy turned to Spade, "... can't you, missy?"

Spade poked her tongue out at Tommy, but sucked her hair in as she pulled her hood back over her head.

"Where will you go after you've delivered these cows?" asked Tommy.

"I be going back to clock off in the Fields Tower. Then I come backs 'ere to go home."

"That building there is the Fields Tower, isn't it?" asked Tommy pointing back to the building with stacks of fields on it they had passed earlier.

"Aye."

"And you come back to the meat factory to take a lift to your home on Level 2?" said Tommy.

"Aye."

"Well you don't need to bring the cows all the way in to the meat factory today, sir. You can take a nice leisurely walk back to the Fields Tower and clock off then go home."

"What?" The drover looked confused and his hand went to protect his rolled up Slaughter Invoice.

"It's all above board," ensured Tommy. "Mr Finniston told us to take your herd of Hereford cows in for you. He said you would give us the Slaughter Invoice."

"Why's that then?"

"Well, he wants you to because you're an excellent drover. He wants you to have a rest before you go home. He wants to give you your certificate."