She had to go shopping. The local shops were all very well, they were perfectly adequate for everyday needs, but really she needed somewhere special. She'd go to Oxford, where the supermarkets tended to offer more sophisticated items for the trendy young wives of dons.
She was trying to decide between six different types of olives, not having a clue what the differences were, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned round. It was Alice.
'Dear Lucy, I've been wondering whether to come and see you. I want to go and see Mrs Thomas to tell her how dreadfully sorry I am that she was hurt at the fête, but Cas won't tell me which hospital she's in. He's still mad at me. Robert said she was perhaps being moved to a specialist unit, but he didn't know when, and Flick doesn't know either. No one else in Shorter's Green knows anything. I feel so terrible that it was my fault she was hurt.'
A tear slid down her cheek. Lucy's thoughts wavered between wondering whether Doc would ever forgive her, hoping he would not, and pity for her obvious distress. Somehow Alice was not a girl she could dislike, and it was infuriating when she knew deep down that against her charms she had no earthly chance with Doc.
'I'm sorry, Alice, but I don't know where she is. I know she is going to be moved, she may have to have skin grafts, but I don't know when or where.'
Her shoulders slumped. 'Oh, dear. But it's so nice to see you. Come and have a coffee. The café here is quite good.'
She could hardly refuse. She grabbed a jar of olives at random, they paid for their purchases, and Lucy followed Alice into the café, where they ordered coffee and treated themselves to cakes oozing with calories and, no doubt, all sorts of other bad things like cream and e-numbers.
Alice glanced at Lucy's bags as she dumped them by the table. 'Are you having a party?' she asked, looking at the olives, the mini sausage rolls, special wholemeal baps, expensive butter, packet of smoked salmon, a big box of chocolate liqueurs, and chocolate muffins.
'Er, oh no. Just stocking up on a few things,' Lucy fibbed, knowing she was blushing. How could she let Alice know she was going off for three nights – even though they would almost certainly turn out to be celibate ones – with her ex-boyfriend?
Alice smiled. 'I see. Your old flame, Edward, isn't it, is coming. Is that it?'
'Of course not! We're finished,' Lucy insisted. It was true, wasn't it? She hadn't heard from him for ages.
Alice became serious again. 'Lucy, I must see poor Mrs Thomas to tell her how dreadful I feel. Will you find out when she is moved, and let me know? I'll give you my mobile number.'
She was scrabbling in her bag and pulled out an old receipt and a pen, and wrote down the number. When she handed it to her Lucy couldn't help seeing it was from the same hotel where Doc and she had stayed. She forced herself to put it in her purse. She could examine it later for clues about when Alice had been there, was it for a double room, and with whom.
'I hear Mrs Sinclair is one of your clients now?' Alice was asking. 'Caroline told me she'd cancelled her appointments at Cuticurls. She would certainly know if you can't find out from anyone else. Can you please ask her this week?'
'I can't ask her till Friday,' Lucy said, feeling as guilty about that as her trip with Doc. Mrs Sinclair had wanted her hair done for a special dinner party, fortunately, or she'd have been doing her hair on another day. 'I didn't know she used to go to Cuticurls,' she added, hoping to distract Alice from asking why the change of day. 'I believe you've left your job there?'
'How could I carry on working for Cas after all he said to me? I thought we were so happy together, so – suited! You know what it means, when you've found your soul mate? No one else will do after such perfect compatibility.'
Another tear slid down her cheek. Lucy was by now feeling really sorry for her. The thought crossed her mind that she ought to cancel her trip with Doc, then she told herself not to be stupid. Even if she did it wouldn't mean Doc forgiving Alice and them getting together again. And it was highly unlikely that Doc wanted her for anything more romantic than standing guard over Rosa.
Alice was smiling now, even though tears still glistened in her eyes, which didn't have a trace of redness in them. When Lucy wept, it took days for the redness to go. It was infuriating.
'If you can find out then, you can tell me at Flick's party. What are you going to wear? I found a simply fabulous dress here in Oxford, at a little boutique I didn't know existed until I started my job here.'
No charity shops for Alice, Lucy noted sourly. Not even a second hand dress from Annabelle's. Then she did a double take.
'You're going to the party? After what happened? With Doc, I mean. Won't it be awkward?'
'Oh no, I don't think so. He'll have calmed down by now, and I know that if I have a chance to talk quietly to him, to explain, and apologise, he'll forgive me. Cas is inclined to blow up occasionally, and we've had little upsets before, and always made it up.'
He probably would forgive her, Lucy decided. How could any man resist Alice? Her tentative plans regarding the next few days, her hopes that perhaps, if she was amazingly fortunate, and did nothing to spark that temper, Doc and she would get to know one another better, collapsed. She had to treat this as a business trip. She had to accept it could never lead to anything else.
*
The journey began as a rerun of the first. Rosa, sitting in her horsebox, looked resigned, as though she expected this to be as futile an exercise as the previous one. The dogs were in the back of the Range Rover and greeted Lucy as an old friend they hadn't seen for years.
'Flick said she had enough to do looking after the farm and sorting out the house,' Doc said with a grin. 'She says the house is a mess since Mrs Thomas has been in hospital. I tell her that's her fault, she's incredibly untidy. She only agreed to stay and supervise if I let her sack the housekeeper and find someone else. I've left her to it.'
'Left her to do the dirty work, you mean, sacking the poor woman?' Lucy asked.
'She'll enjoy it. It's only a case of telling the agency we don't need her any more. Then while we're away she can try another agency and this time interview them herself, and I hope get someone who can cook.'
She waited until they were eating her picnic to mention Cuticurls. When Doc had eaten his fill, clearly enjoying the food, she decided it was time to talk.
'Why didn't you tell me you owned Cuticurls?' she asked as she was repacking the supermarket box and cool bag which had held the food. She didn't stretch to a beautifully equipped picnic hamper.
He looked embarrassed. 'I meant to, but somehow the moment never came. When you were so scathing about it at that party I felt it would be embarrassing for both of us to mention it. Anyway, I don't have much to do with it. Evelyn's in charge. It's just an investment to me.'
'And you rake in the profits while the slaves probably work for the minimum wage?'
'They're paid above the going rates,' he protested.
'Which is why you have to charge such astronomical prices, is it?'
'Be fair, Lucy. If I didn't charge high rates I wouldn't be losing clients to your lower ones.'
There was that, she supposed. It was something she hadn't really thought about.
Doc went on. 'It's called market forces, what the market will bear. People don't have to go there if they are not willing to pay the prices. Frankly, I think you could charge more yourself.'
'If I want advice I'll ask for it,' she said, more sharply than she'd intended. 'When I worked in a top salon in London we charged less than you do.'
'Let's go,' he said, and she cursed inwardly. She'd blown it. Alice, welcome back.
*
They drove the rest of the way in silence. Once more Graham Porter came out to welcome them and they unloaded Rosa and led her to her solitary paddock. She appeared to recognise Cappuccino in the adjoining paddock, and he seemed to know Rosa. He began to walk up to the fence between them, and as they were turning away he let out a peculiar sort of humming noise and leapt nimbly
into Rosa's paddock.
Graham swore, but Doc laughed.
'He's eager enough this time. We might be able to go home tomorrow.'
Damn. Only one romantic – or otherwise – night together, Lucy thought.
Graham was fretting. 'I thought those fences were high enough, but it looks as though I'll have to raise them.'
Doc led the way to a rustic seat. 'Let's watch and see what happens,' he suggested.
'I'll go and get some tea sent out.'
Graham vanished into the house, and they watched Rosa and Cappuccino circling one another.
'Is it sensible to let Rosa, you know, straight after a journey?' Lucy asked. 'Won't she need to relax, get used to things here?'
'Do you need to relax after a journey?' he asked, without specifying what for, but he was grinning, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The little spat after the picnic was no longer bothering him, it seemed.
'I can have a bath, a drink, perhaps a candlelit dinner to get in the mood,' she said.
'I see. With oysters and asparagus, and lots of chocolate?'
She made a resolve to avoid these choices, in case he thought she was hinting. Pity. The home grown asparagus season was so short, and she could rarely afford them. And she was a chocoholic.
'Look!' Doc exclaimed, his tone suddenly changing from teasing to excited.
She'd almost forgotten about Rosa. She looked across at her paddock to see her sitting down in the middle of it, and just at that moment Cappuccino stalked – there was no other word for it, he looked so arrogant and pleased with himself – up to her from behind, and, with a little bit of a wobble as he got settled, lay down on top of her. He tossed his head, and Lucy wondered if men had that same look of concentrated passion when they had got what they wanted. Rosa, on the other hand, looked thoroughly bored, and was still cropping the grass. She hastily stopped thinking of human female comparisons.
Graham came out of the house at that moment, and gave a slight cheer.
'I said he'd be OK.'
He sat beside them on the bench, and they all watched eagerly. It felt voyeuristic to Lucy, but she was as fascinated as the men. Then Cappuccino began to make a noise. It was most peculiar, not quite a chuckle, but rising towards a sort of groan.
'That's his orgle noise,' Graham said. 'The males do that while they are breeding.'
'How long does it take?' she asked. 'They make that noise all the time?'
'At least twenty minutes, often longer, and yes, they orgle all the time. Look,' he added, and pointed.
At both sides of the paddock at least twenty llamas of all kinds of hues stood with their necks leaning against the fences, observing what was going on.
'Those are the females that side, males the other,' Graham explained. 'They hear the male orgling and want to see what's going on.'
'Waiting their turn?' Doc asked.
Lucy was watching Cappuccino. In between the noise, which was pretty continuous, he was nibbling Rosa's ears. She occasionally shook her head and turned to glance at him, still with the bored look on her face. He didn't seem to mind, but perhaps llamas recognised different expressions, and it wasn't a bored look to them. Cappuccino wasn't put off his stroke, anyway. He remained, he orgled, he seemed to be stroking her neck with his forefeet. This went on for a good half hour, and then Rosa, as if to say he'd had his lot, struggled to her feet. Cappuccino was reluctant to let go, but she shrugged him off, and with a slight stagger he also stood up. He looked round at the row of females as if to ask them if they approved, gave Rosa a final nudge with his head, as if to say 'Thank you, ma'am', and began to graze.
Doc laughed. 'Hungry after all that excitement. Thanks Graham. That should have done the trick. OK if we collect Rosa tomorrow morning?'
*
They drove to the same hotel as before, and Doc said they'd eat there, on the terrace if she wished, as it was a warm evening. When she'd showered, this time not bothering with nail polish, just slapping on a hint of eyeshadow and some lipstick, for what was the use of trying to vamp Doc, she went down to the bar.
Doc was already there, with gin and tonic for Lucy. After she'd taken a large gulp he handed her the menu.
'We can order here. They don't have oysters, but you might like the avocado.'
She looked at him in sudden suspicion. He was grinning.
'Why?'
'They grow in pairs, and the ancients believed they aided fertility.'
'I'll have melon, thanks.'
He laughed. 'Wasn't that fantastic? Rosa, I mean. In just under a year she'll have her cria.'
'Cria? Is that what they call the babies?'
'Yes. I've seen one being born, and they are up on their feet within minutes. Like young foals. I am certainly buying more females. But after this fuss with Cappuccino I think I'll get my own male to serve them. It takes up too much time coming down here, and they need to be served again within a couple of weeks of giving birth.'
She winced. 'Poor things! Fancy being pregnant for all but a couple of weeks each year! Do llamas get morning sickness?'
She'd suffered badly when she'd been pregnant, and some of her less helpful friends had gleefully told her about their pregnancies when they'd suffered this for nine months and throughout the days, not just in the mornings.
'You can't be sentimental about farm animals, Lucy. Llamas are expensive, and they have to be bred as well as providing fibre if they are to be profitable.'
She bit back her comment that he only ever seemed to be interested in profit, and asked instead about the fibre.
'I'll have a sweater made for you from Rosa's first shearing,' he promised.
The waiter came to say their table was ready, and they went through to the terrace. It was a beautiful evening, warm but with a soft breeze, and though it was not yet dark the moon, a pale crescent, was hanging in the sky.
Doc had ordered avocado, and when he saw her looking at it he laughed.
'Don't worry, Lucy. I don't need it. I just like it.'
She didn't know what to make of that. Was he hinting he wanted to come to bed with her? She busied herself with the melon, wondering why restaurants served things on plates, so that it was impossible to spoon up all the lovely juice. Doc talked about the farm, which his father had owned, and which had been run by a manager until he was old enough to take it over himself.
'When my mother remarried, three years after Dad died, her new husband worked in London, so we all moved there. Flick and I used to come down for our holidays, though, as soon as we were old enough, and I vowed I'd come back to live here.'
The rest of the meal seemed innocuous, apart from the chocolate mousse they'd both chosen. Lucy couldn't resist that, nor the chocolate mints that came with the coffee.
By then it was almost dark, and she was wondering how she might break up the evening, and get away, or whether she wanted to. Doc had teased her about the aphrodisiacs, but it hadn't felt personal. He hadn't hinted he wished to take advantage of them.
She stood up, ready to say goodnight, but he came to ease her chair back.
'I have to take the dogs for a last run. We can go down by the river. Why don't you come too?'
Why not? They went to release the collies who were pathetically grateful to be let out, and set off down a path through a grove of trees which led to the river bank. Here it was fully dark, and Doc took her hand.
'Watch out for tree roots.'
It must have been the thought of tripping that caused her to look up, and as she was wearing flimsy sandals with heels, of course she caught one of the heels in a root. Doc grabbed her, held her up, and when she'd recovered her balance she found his arm round her waist. She snuggled closer. He may only have been helping her walk straight, but she was going to take full advantage of the closeness. It was probably the only chance she'd get. With Rosa now in an interesting condition there would be no more trips to visit Cappuccino, and thanks to his eagerness they'd be back in Shorter's Green tomorrow.
The dogs raced ahead, and were soon snuffling at exciting smells along the river bank. She breathed a sigh of complete contentment, and turned towards Doc. In the faint moonlight she could see him smiling down at her, and suddenly he pulled her closer, and his lips descended on hers. It was a heavenly kiss. His lips were firm yet gentle, and he put one hand on her back and pulled her closer, while with the other hand he was stroking her hair, doing interesting things to her ears. She hadn't previously thought ears were sensitive to exploring fingers, but hers seemed to be. Then his hand slipped down to her shoulder, and delicious tremors went through her as his fingers traced the neckline of her dress. Things were just getting a little heated when she felt a hearty shove in the small of her back.
They staggered back, there was a second shove, together with a woof of glee, and they were suddenly floundering in the cold, reed-filled river.
*
Chapter 11
It was a cold, wet, uncomfortable walk back to the hotel. The collies, loving this new game, had jumped in the water to join them. Their thrashing hadn't helped them get disentangled from the reeds, which clung to their hands and faces with slimy, unpleasantly smelly tenacity.
Fortunately the river wasn't very deep, and they were able to stand up, though the mud at the bottom was oozy and sticky, and Lucy had nightmares about quicksands pulling them deeper and deeper under.
Doc fought his way to the bank first, then hauled her out. The collies scrambled out on their own, and as if they weren't wet enough, shook themselves so that a rain of muddy water splashed all over them.
She'd lost a sandal, and let out a yelp as she put her foot down on a sharp stone.
'What is it?' Doc sounded anything but amorous.
'Oh, just a sharp stone, but I'll be OK.'
A gentleman would probably have offered to carry her back, but it was a long way, she was heavier than she would have liked, and didn't want the poor man to develop a hernia or have a heart attack. She decided to refuse and be brave, but he didn't even offer a piggyback.
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