‘Not funny.’
Shaking his head, he left the bedroom.
Some old music was playing quietly in the kitchen as Will approached, and Mr and Mrs Henshaw were inside, slow dancing.
He stopped in the doorway to watch with a smile. What a wonderful sight, seeing two people hopelessly in love. He couldn’t help but think of the woman he’d just left in the bath.
Not wanting to disturb them, Will turned, bumping straight into a donkey. ‘Argh!’ His short, sharp yelp had Mrs Henshaw by his side in a second.
‘Oh, that’s our Lily. She’s not too keen on the snow.’
Will smiled warily at the creature staring his way, then reached out to tentatively pat Lily’s head. ‘Hello.’
Mrs Henshaw nudged his arm. ‘Ooh, I see you like your robe. Sell a lot of those here.’
He had no comment about that. ‘Erm, I came to see if you need any help with dinner.’
She smiled and waved him into the kitchen. ‘You’re a good lad. Come and chop some carrots with Mr Henshaw.’
Will glanced over his shoulder as he entered, watching the donkey slowly follow.
Mr Henshaw handed him a chopping knife. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’
The smell of the roasting chicken was making Will’s stomach rumble. He made a start on his task, already knowing he would enjoy his grub, but then a fluffy chicken jumped up on the countertop, startling him.
‘You get down, Hettie,’ said Mr Henshaw, flapping the bird away.
Will glanced down to see another one clucking around his feet.
Mrs Henshaw chuckled. ‘You might see a few of them around. Had to get them in, see. The snowstorm was scaring them.’
Will looked over at the oven, wondering if he was about to eat a family pet. Suddenly his appetite was gone.
‘No, that’s not one of ours,’ said Mrs Henshaw, pointing at the food cooking. ‘We wouldn’t eat our own.’
Will jumped as Hettie pecked his slipper. ‘Do you have many animals?’
‘Chickens, donkey, and there’s a cat around here somewhere,’ replied Mrs Henshaw. ‘Sometimes the squirrels come inside.’
Lily nudged Will’s back as he continued to peel carrots, so he turned to offer her some shavings, mindful of the big stained teeth approaching his outstretched hand.
‘All our animals are rescues,’ said Mrs Henshaw. ‘Isn’t that right, dear?’
Mr Henshaw plopped some broccoli into a pan of water. ‘What? Oh, yes, yes.’
She turned back to Will. ‘He doesn’t always hear too well.’
Will nodded, wiping his hand on a tea towel, and Mrs Henshaw directed him over to a Welsh dresser.
‘You lay the table for me, Will.’
Gathering some vintage-looking plates, he headed for the dining room, with Lily not far behind. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal the silverware,’ he told the donkey, who seemed to hold a suspicious glint in her eye.
She nudged his back as he leaned over the large dark table.
Will frowned. ‘Do you mind?’
Mrs Henshaw brought in some glasses for the table, shooing Lily out the way.
