‘That’s unfair,’ he said lightly. ‘Anyway, my determinationisn’tunreasonable – I’ve fallen in love with him, just like you. Plus, I can give him a better home.’ He grinned, to show there was no malice behind it.
‘We’re back to that, are we? In that case, who’s going to look after him while you’re at the bakery, hmm? No one, that’s who. I’ll have him withmeall the time.’
‘Not all the time, surely? What about when you want to go to the pub, or out for a meal or something?’
Was it his imagination or did her face cloud over? If it did, her expression quickly cleared as she retorted, ‘The Black Horse is a dog-friendly establishment, and if dogs aren’t welcome somewhere, then I won’t go.’
‘Damn it, I thought I had you there. Okay, I finish work at about one-thirty in the afternoon, so I can take him for humongous long walks afterwards.’
‘Humongous?That far, eh?’
‘I’m used to running marathons – for fun,’ he added, doing a little jog on the spot to demonstrate and nearly losing his footing. Biscuit looked up at him with a “whatareyou doing” expression. The track over the mountain was uneven underfoot, rocky and gravel strewn, and Elijah recalled the many times he’d run across it without giving it a second thought – although it had always been a relief to reach the relative smoothness of Muddypuddle Lane, even if the tarmac was pitted with potholes.
‘But you don’t anymore,’ she said softly, the breeze catching her words and whisking them away.
His mood took a downturn. ‘No.’
Biscuit must have sensed it, because his tail took a downturn too, and he whined uncertainly. Elijah ruffled his ears. ‘I’m okay, boy.’
‘Are you?’ Nora was studying him.
‘I will be,’ he echoed, with a wry twist of his lips. ‘It’s a big adjustment, not running anymore. I’ve been doing it for years, so to suddenly stop…’ He stared into the distance, his mind not on the rolling moorland, nor the view over the valley, but on pastruns where he’d felt strong and lithe, his feet eating the miles, his mind clear.
‘Have you always run marathons?’ she asked.
‘Not at first. For years I used to run just to keep fit, but then you start getting into it, you know?’
Nora snorted. ‘Not really. I refuse to even run for a bus.’
‘I bet you used to run around when you were a child. Show me a kid that doesn’t.’
‘Me. I never liked sport.’
‘Running isn’t sport. Or, it doesn’t have to be. It’s just exercise, a way to keep the body moving and to not put on weight.’
‘Never trust a skinny cook.’ Her eyes were smiling.
‘Unless they run ten miles every day, and then they’ve got a good reason to be skinny,’ he rejoined.
‘Is that why you do it?’
‘I’ve never really thought about it. The two kind of went hand in hand. I used to bake because I enjoyed it, and I ran because I enjoy that, too.’
‘It’s no consolation, I know, but at least you can still bake.’
‘Hmm…’
Her gaze turned to scrutiny. ‘Don’t you enjoy it anymore?’
She was perceptive, he realised. ‘Not really.’
‘Why not?’
Elijah shrugged. ‘Life.’
‘Hey, that’s my line.’
He decided to be honest. ‘I really don’t know how it happened, but at some point, baking became just another job. Maybe when my marriage fell apart? I’m not totally sure. But it was all I knew how to do, and I was good at it, so…’ He pulled a face.
