Pink Wellies and Flat Caps by Lynda Renham Page B

because it is covered in engine parts. The kitchen sink is full of dishes, and if anything was cooking for dinner then I’m buggered if I can smell it. With shaking hands I pull the contract from my bag and am about to rip it into pieces when the farmhouse door opens and the dog is at my crotch again.
    ‘Oh, for God’s sake, just bugger off you sex-starved animal,’ I snap.
    ‘I hope you’re not talking to me?’
    I spin round at the sound of the voice. The dog determined not to let go seems to spin with me and I wonder if the thing has become surgically attached to my crotch. I come face to face with a remarkably good-looking, if not stiff-necked and very angry, man. His brow is furrowed and he stares at me through grey steel-glinted eyes. I swear if looks could kill I would have dropped dead on the spot. He pulls off the cap he is wearing and runs a hand carelessly through his tousled hair. If this is Edward Fairfax-Mason he is much younger than I had imagined him to be.
    ‘ Down Molly,’ he says quietly but with a firmness that almost has me obeying. I realise my skirt has risen up over my knees and quickly push it back down. I must look ridiculous with only one shoe on, and wearing a crumpled half-eaten skirt.
    ‘I don’t know who you are or what you want. However, what I do know is that you left the gate open and I have sheep running riot down the lane …’ he begins sternly.
    How dare he have a go at me? I’ve been led here under false pretences. I haven’t driven I don’t know how many miles for him to shout at me.
    ‘Excuse me,’ I interrupt, ‘I have not driven all the way from London to be told off by you. I don’t actually know who you are anyway …’
    ‘Edward Fairfax, I own this farm, and the sheep you’ve just let out, and I don’t care if you’ve driven all the way from Moscow, I don’t appreciate you walking into my house uninvited.’
    He speaks clearly and effortlessly with a well-educated voice that hints of just a tinge of a West Country accent to it. I’m speechless. I’ve never in my life met someone so rude. Before I can respond another man walks in.
    ‘I’ve rounded up most but …’
    He stops on seeing me and smiles.
    ‘Oh hello, I’m sorry Ted, I didn’t realise you had a visitor.’
    ‘Nor did I until I walked in,’ replies Edward while giving me a curious look.
    The other man looks uncomfortable.
    ‘I’d better fetch the rest of the sheep. They’ve gone into Lower End, unfortunately. I’ll see you later.’
    He nods at me and slaps Edward on the back as he passes. I have never felt so miserable in my life. Everything that could go wrong in my life is going wrong. I hand the contract to Edward as I walk past.
    ‘The door was open actually. Perhaps you should consider locking it if you don’t wish people to venture in. Your mother hired me to be the new farm manager, so I was invited. She told me there were other staff here and that …’
    I stop abruptly as I feel my throat constrict. Oh sod it, don’t go crying Alice. The thought of the long drive back is unbearable.
    ‘Anyway, it’s obviously all a misunderstanding. If you could just direct me to a bed and breakfast, I will get out of your way and return home tomorrow.’
    Oh really Alice, and just where is home? The flat will be occupied by the new tenants and unless you intend sleeping at your parents or on Georgie’s very uncomfortable sofa bed, there is no home to return to. Could things get any worse? He reads the contract with a serious look on his face before folding it and handing it back.
    ‘My mother, the ever so helpful Lady Blanche Fairfax-Mason no doubt gave you a very far-fetched story. The only staff working here are me and Jed, who you just met. To cut a long story short, and only because I feel someone owes you an explanation of sorts, my mother feels I need a housekeeper. My father died six months ago and I took the farm over. It was a mess and as you can see it’s not much better