Pink Wellies and Flat Caps by Lynda Renham

different if she is anything to go by.
    ‘We’ll be seeing you in church then?’ she enquires.
    Oh crikey.
    ‘Well, I’m …’ I begin, looking down at the hole in my tights and the accompanying ladder that runs down below it.
    ‘We’re a God -fearing community,’ she says firmly.
    Rocky yaps as though confirming this. Christ, are they Amish or something? I’ll be wearing special clothes before I know where I am and calling for Cas to be publicly stoned. I know you probably think I’m getting carried away now but you should see this woman.
    ‘Yes, well I’m sure once I’m settled …’
    ‘Nice to meet you ...’ she tails off.
    ‘Alice,’ I say warmly and hold out my hand which she ignores.
    ‘Lady Fisher. We’ll see you in church.’
    Lady Fisher? Blimey they really do have blue blood here. She gives a wave and marches off with Rocky’s lead in one hand and her stick in the other. I’m getting a bad feeling about this. I climb back into the Beetle and check my phone. There is a text from Georgie. A small tremor of happiness runs through my body. Just seeing her name on my phone makes me feel a little more secure and takes me back to lovely hectic London. It’s much too quiet here, eerily quiet in fact. Surely there should be some noise. In fact another car would be nice, then again maybe not. Knowing my luck it will be the car out of Jeepers Creepers . I shiver and open Georgie’s text.
                 
    So how goes it? You must be there by now. What’s his lordship like, and the domestic staff ? We miss you loads already. X
     
    ‘Oh and I so miss you,’ I whisper.
    Right, this is no good I tell myself. You’ve got to take the bull by the horns and get on with it. Or, in this particular case, take the cow by the horns. Not that I know anything about cows and bulls you understand. I turn the car around and again head back. After passing Buttercup Farm and Bluebell Lane the dirt road comes into sight and this time I turn into it. After about fifty yards I reach a gate. I strain to see a sign, but there is nothing. Oh honestly, where on earth is this place? It will be dark soon and I will st ill be driving. I feel like I’m on a Bear Grylls expedition. I get out of the car to open the gate and several birds squawk and flap past my eyes making me jump and shit, and I mean real shit, I have stepped into some sheep crap.
    ‘Bugger it .’
    I attempt to s crape it off onto the car tyre. Do I really need all this in my life? Mad countrywomen and sheep dung. Surely there are better jobs than this? Yes Alice, but how many of them offer you a home and better still, get you a long way from Charlie. The thought of Charlie brings tears to my eyes or maybe it’s the smell of the sheep dung that does it. Yes, that’s most likely what it is. Come on Alice, onwards and upwards.
     
    The gate creaks. It practically hangs off the hinges. I’m beginning to feel like I’m in an Alfred Hitchcock movie ... I’ll finally reach the house only to be met by Norman Bates who will, do doubt, murder me in the shower. Jesus Alice, stop thinking such things. My heart is hammering and I need to take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down. It’s the country that’s all. Things creak more here. I wince as a splinter digs itself into my finger. I suck at it gently and look down at my tights. Some impression I am going to make. What I wouldn’t do for a cup of tea. Stepping carefully around the muddy puddles I get back into the car and drive slowly on. Ahead of me are fields and oh yes, thank goodness, they are full of cows. That must mean a farm is near. From the smell coming through the half open window I feel sure a farm must be near. I certainly hope it is a farm and not sewage works. Oh no, it’s neither of those things, it’s the bloody sheep shit on my shoe which I now see is all over the car mat. The car will stink for weeks. I look around for any sign of a farmhouse and see some buildings on the