London pretended not to hear

London was in the line. London is always in the line. If there is not a line, she will invent one, and then she will stand in it as if it had been there since breakfast.

Canberra had started it, because Canberra starts lines. Nairobi was trying to be in two places, which is not how lines work. Paris was still thinking about grass. London had her spot. Third from the front. She would not skip. She would not be skipped.

Then the bull bellowed.

It was not a shove. It was a speech. Historic moving, he said. Immediate moving. The best moving anyone had ever seen, and it would start now, which on this farm means it would start whenever the kelpies finished the actual work.

London pretended not to hear. She has a face for this. It is the same face she uses when Spike runs past her at full kelpie and expects her to be impressed. She looked at the tail in front of her and waited her turn.

Spike ran at the noise, because the noise was the problem if you are Spike. He circled the bull. He stared. He tried to herd the bellow back into the crate it had come from. The bellow did not herd.

The line wobbled. Harare lifted her head. Tokyo darted out and darting-back-in, which counts as a queue if you are Tokyo. London did not wobble. London is the part of a line that stays a line.

Suzy was already at the far gate. She had heard the bellow the way she hears weather: not as news, as a reason to get where the cattle will try to go when they have finished pretending they did not hear it.

She sat in the gateway. The line had a place to finish. Canberra kept walking. London took one step when the cow in front took one step, which is the whole of her philosophy.

The bull announced that they were moving because of him. They were moving because there was a gate, and a kelpie in it, and a cow who would not be rushed out of her place.

Spike arrived at the gate in a spray of dirt, very pleased with how fast he had explained the situation to the bull. Suzy had not needed the explanation. London went through third, as booked.

Spike shook off and looked for the next noise. Suzy watched the queue empty, because a polite cow is never the last problem. She is the one who makes the others look like a problem.

Some cows run from a bellow. Some cows wait their turn.