‘God, no! I wouldn’t think of it. You are always welcome, anytime, you know that.’ Rita had a sudden flash of a thought about where she would put the baby. The study might have to go, but she could worry about that when he or she arrived.
‘Anyway, let’s get your rooms made up. Then I’ve got to finish off in the chicken coop. How about we have brunch at Betty’s? She’s doing some amazing Easter holiday treats.’
‘Nice one, yeah!’ Thom grinned. ‘I’ve got to pick Poppy up from the station at one, so that works perfectly, if you don’t mind driving to the harbour separately, that is, Mum?’
The hens chattered and fussed around Rita’s ankles, indignant and bossy as ever, pecking at her boots as if she were deliberately late with their breakfast. She smiled as she reached in and lifted out warm brown eggs, one by one, cradling them in the crook of her jumper before putting them into her basket. She was just putting fresh hay into the chicken coop when she heard someone behind her.
Cass hovered at the entrance for a moment before stepping inside. With his broad shoulders and easy stance, he carried the kind of handsome that made people assume he had sailed through life without a care.
‘Want a hand?’ His deep voice caused Rita to jump slightly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think you’d miss a unit like me walking down from the meadow.’
Rita laughed. ‘I’m all over the place this morning, and yes, some help would be lovely; I’m having brunch with my kids shortly. Not the goat variety.’
‘That’s nice. Boys, girls, age?’
‘One of each and twenty-four.’
‘Blimey, you must have been at school when you had them,’ Cass flirted.
‘Flattery will only get you a pitchfork here, I’m afraid.’ She smiled and handed him the very thing.
He grinned back. ‘I can’t believe we only have days left of the retreat, to be honest.’
‘I know.’ Rita raked at some dirty hay. ‘Time flies when you’re having a mini breakdown.’
They both laughed.
‘I’ll be honest.’ Cass sniffed. ‘I’m a bit hungover. Was planning to raid the snack machine, then crawl back to my yurt and sleep it off.’
‘Zenya refilled it this morning.’ Rita stopped for a second. ‘With all sorts of goodies. And there are cheese and onion pasties in the Cosy Café fridge if you want. Help yourself.’
He smiled. ‘That’s very kind.’ Then after clearing his throat, ‘I saw you earlier. Down by the orchard. Letting go of what I assume was one of your animals.’
Rita felt a surge of emotion go through her. ‘Yes. Henry. You know. My dog. The black Lab.’
‘Oh no! God. I’m so sorry.’
Rita bit her lip. ‘He was old; he’d had a good life.’
Cass stuck out his bottom lip. ‘I reckon we should all get to seventy-five easy, whether that be human, dog or cat years and only the proper good ’uns be allowed to hit a hundred without any bothers.’
Rita remained deadpan. ‘The buses would be packed.’
‘And would I ever get a seat at Old Trafford?’ Cass laughed.
‘Not a chance.’ Rita grinned.
Rita gathered both rakes and shut the coop behind her.
‘You’re such a strong woman, Rita.’ Cass looked at her, really looked at her, then with a smile walked towards her. ‘Can I hug you?’
‘Yeah,’ Rita replied softly. ‘Of course.’
He wrapped his arms around her. ‘Thank you, for everything.’ Cass’s voice was thick.
She patted his back once. ‘Any time.’
Just before eleven, Thomas Jory pushed open the door to Betty’s Tearoom. The bell above jingled, the warmth of the café hitting him, mingling with the delectable rich smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries. He was looking forward to having brunch with his mum and sister but the moment he stepped foot inside, disaster struck. He collided straight into someone sending the bags of pastries in her hands tumbling to the floor. He looked up and was so captivated by the woman’s beauty – with her dark hair pulled loosely back, a smudged French lip, and eyes that seemed to see right through him – that it took everything within him not to just stare back at her with his tongue out. The faint French accent that danced in her soft laugh as she muttered, ‘Pas de problème,’ just about finished him off.
