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Kelly frowned. 'Maybe he doesn't understand the agreement, Grandpa,' she suggested in soft appeasement.
'Herefords or Charolais or Santa Gertrudis…'
'What if he develops a taste for chicken?' the judge put in with sympathetic concern. 'What are you going to do then?'
'Chicken?' her grandfather squawked.
'Or fish?' the judge added.
It was the final straw! 'Henry Lloyd ate lamb for seventy-five years,' Michael O'Reilly thundered, if it was good enough for Henry Lloyd, it's good enough for Justin St John!'
'Quite right,' the judge agreed. 'He's got to be taught to fit in. This is sheep country. Always has been. Always will be. He can't come in here changing things. We've got to stand up to him. Show him he's wrong!'
'I'll have a word with him when he comes for his physiotherapy tomorrow, Grandpa,' Kelly offered. 'I'm sure he doesn't understand.'
'You haven't got him to understand about Rasputin, Kelly,' the judge warned pessimistically, then switched his attention back to her grandfather. 'And talking about sheep, Michael, I've had a thought about Octavian Augustus the Fourth…'
‘It's clear that Justin St John doesn't really appreciate sheep,' Michael grumbled. 'Let's go into the living-room and set up the chess-board, Judge. I'm in a fighting mood tonight.'
Kelly wondered if her grandfather remembered his intention to let the judge win this time, but she didn't get a chance to remind him. In fact, she was so tired after her long day that she went to bed before the chess match was over and didn't hear the final outcome that evening.
However, when she had finished with Rasputin the next morning, Judge Moffat took great pride in telling her that he had swept her grandfather off the chess-board.
Kelly wished it could be as easy to checkmate Justin St John.
He arrived for his physiotherapy with the same stiff-necked reserve he had worn the previous day. Kelly decided she would not be put off or put down or put out again, no matter how he acted or what he said or how he made her feel. Nevertheless, she worked on her composure while he was on the interferential, and waited until she had started the resisted exercises before opening her account.
'You've got my grandfather upset again, Justin. You're not keeping to the agreement.'
He groaned.
'Did I hurt you?' Kelly asked anxiously.
'No. And I don't recall giving you permission to call me Justin,' he said peevishly.
'You call me Kelly,' she argued. 'Why shouldn't I call you Justin?'
He sighed. 'How have I upset your grandfather?'
'You didn't take all the lambs you're supposed to,' she explained. 'Under the agreement…'
'I'm sick to death of eating lamb!'
'You don't have to eat it yourself. You could give it away. Or sell it to the butcher,' Kelly suggested brightly. 'But you've got to take them. Henry Lloyd used to…'
'I am not Henry Lloyd!' He glared at her. 'And I'm sick to death of being told what Henry Lloyd used to do.'
Kelly closed her mouth in thin-lipped disapproval. She glared back at Justin St John. The tension in the room thickened. He bent first.
'All right! Tell me what Henry Lloyd used to do,' he said in weary disgust.
'He used to pass the lamb on to his staff when he didn't need it for himself. The gardeners and…'
'Fine! I'll pass it on.'
Kelly heaved a sigh of satisfaction. 'I told Grandpa you'd understand. He was having visions of having to run cattle to cater for your taste. Herefords and…'
'You can't mean it?' Justin levered himself up on his elbows with a look of sheer incredulity.
