by Ann Granger
He did blench slightly when she took him into the barn but drove in the fork and began shovelling straw with a will.
Eric worked all morning. He cleaned out the barn. He not only oiled the hinges on the paddock gate but took the whole structure off and rehung it, pointing out that it always would squeal like that if it were left sagging. He also mended the handle of the pump and tidied up the yard. The yard, thought Zoe, had never been so tidy. It had acquired, even in its ramshackle state, a faint air of a model Swiss farm, all the buckets in a row. Even the animals seemed to sense a new hand on the tiller. When Eric strode towards the paddock, they all came to the fence and lined up, waiting quietly with ears pricked. Except for Maud, of course, who turned her back on him.
"I should at least offer you some lunch," she said tentatively when he finally stopped work and came and stood before her. "I can cut some sandwiches."
on the stomach. No, it would please me very much if you would let me take you to lunch somewhere."
'Tm all scruffy."
"Yes. But you can clean up a little, can't you? I cannot, of course, invite you to my restaurant because Harding set it afire. But there is a little pub in the next village which, I am told, serves quite adequate light lunches. And they will not require smart clothes, only clean ones. It is a very quiet place."
"I should like that!" Zoe said and smiled. "Somewhere quiet would be just fine."
