Page 12 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
It was almost nine o’clock when Vicky woke — she hadn’t bothered to set her alarm. She hadn’t slept so well in ages — itmust have been the fresh sea air. But she had work to do — this morning she was planning to spend a couple of hours sorting through the kitchen cupboards.
Most of the stuff in the pantry would have to be thrown away — the potatoes had sprouted, the cabbage was a soggy brown mess. A lot of the packages were well past their sell-by dates — only the tins were usable, though she wasn’t keen on oxtail soup or baked beans.
The pots and pans, cutlery and crockery could go to the charity shop down the hill — she’d keep enough to cook with while she was here. There was a nice big Pyrex casserole dish she would take home with her, plus a couple of vases and a blue-glass water jug.
She had finished her lunch and was washing up her plate when her phone buzzed. Barry from the garage.
“Miss Marston? I’ve got your car fixed. But I won’t be able to fetch it out to you for a couple of days, I’m afraid — too busy up on the moors, see? But if you can get in on the bus, or get a lift, it’s all yours.”
“Oh, that’s great — thank you. I’ll get the bus.”
* * *
‘I’ll get the bus’ had proved to be easier said than done. For someone who lived close to one of London’s busiest thoroughfares, buses were something that appeared whenever you looked up.
Here in the wilds of South Devon it was different, as she had discovered when she had checked the website of the local bus company. It had been a wise move to check — the only bus that came close ran only once an hour.
Trudging up the road to the bus stop, she was grateful that at least she’d be able to drive back from town instead of having to hang around for the bus...
A silver-grey SUV pulled up beside her, and the passenger door was opened. “Hi — jump in.”
Tom.
She tilted up her chin, trying for as much dignity as she could muster. “No, thank you.”
He arched one dark eyebrow. “Well, if you’d prefer to spend an hour or more bouncing around in an old boneshaker that stinks of diesel while it winds its way around the countryside, that’s up to you. I can get you there in fifteen minutes.”
“How do you know where I’m going?”
“Where else would you be going? Anyway, I’d like to apologise for yesterday. I was out of line — I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Oh boy — that smile. It transformed the rather austere lines of his face, and Vicky felt her heartbeat accelerate alarmingly.
“Oh . . . well . . . um . . . thank you. I appreciate that. And . . . um . . . I wanted to thank you for recommending Barry.”
“No problem.” He patted the passenger seat. “Jump in.”
With a murmured, “Thank you,” she climbed in beside him. “This won’t take you out of your way?”
“Not at all — I have stuff to do in town.”
They reached the top of the hill and turned onto the main A road into town. The car was a manual transmission, and she found herself fascinated as she watched his hands work smoothly up through the gears or rest lightly on the steering wheel.
Strong hands, with long fingers and short-clipped nails. Strong wrists, with a smattering of that same dark, curling hair she had glimpsed at his throat...
Quickly she snatched her gaze away and turned it instead to studying the interior of the car. It looked quite new, and top of the range, with dark grey leather seats and a very futuristic technology touch-screen on the dashboard.
Clearly dairy-farming was more lucrative than she would have guessed.
“I suppose you have to get back for milking?” she asked brightly.
“Not till five o’clock.”
She was absently twiddling the diamond ring on her finger. To stop herself fidgeting with it she folded her hands together in her lap. “How many cows do you have to milk?”
Again a raised eyebrow, suggesting that he was amused by her attempts to make polite conversation. “We’ve got a hundred and forty in milk at the moment. Plus we have twenty-four in calf and twenty-seven young heifers waiting to join the milking herd.”
“That sounds like a lot.”
“We’re a medium-size operation,” he responded genially. “Some of the bigger farms have over a thousand head.”
