‘Where do you sell it?’ Carla asked.
‘Online, although we do have the occasional customer who buys it direct from us when they pop up to the farm for their milk and cheese.’
‘You and Dulcie have a proper production line going on.’ Carla was filled with awe.
‘We have. In fact, Dulcie’s hoping that by the autumn, she’ll be able to give up the day job and concentrate on this. She’s just started making candles too, as another string to her bow.’
Maisie was interrupted by the sound of a vehicle pulling into the yard, and she went to take a look. When she returned ten minutes later, she said, ‘That’s another satisfied customer. Dulcie gets people popping in all the time to buy milk and cheese, and when I mentioned we had a glut of pears, she bought a bag of those as well. There’s a lot of surplus produce, so it’s good she can make few pounds from it.’
‘I don’t know how she manages to fit it all in. How does she cope with people just turning up out of the blue if she’s working?’
‘Luckily, she’s got me most of the time, but when the kennel is up and running I won’t be around much, so I’ve no idea how she’ll manage.’ Maisie put her goggles on and slipped her hands into the rubber gloves, indicating that Carla should do the same. ‘You won’t believe how inconsiderate some people are, though. Last week, she had someone knocking on the door at eleven o’clock at night, wanting to buy milk for their bedtime cocoa.’
‘Why doesn’t she have a proper shop?’
‘Not enough hours in the day, can’t afford the rent – to name two reasons. Anyway, when she does give up her job, she’ll want to be on the farm, not in the village, and renting a shop would eat into her profits.’
Carla waited a moment before she donned her goggles. ‘I wasn’t thinking about a shop in the village. I was thinking about her having a shophere. I noticed she keeps the milk and cheese in the bottling shed, the soaps in here, and the fruit in the barn. If she had everything in one place, with a proper counter, display units, and set opening times, it would be much easier for her. If customers are already dropping in ad hock, it makes sense to have them arrive when it’s convenient for Dulcie, and there’s also the likelihood of add-on sales if all the items are together.’
Maisie was staring at her, her eyes huge beneath the goggles. She shook her head slowly. ‘Carla Mason, you’re a genius! Why didn’t we think of that?’
When they eventually began making soap, Carla was smiling. She mightn’t be able to sort out her own pathetic life, but at least she could be useful to someone else.
Ashton drove into the yard and tucked his car to one side, out of the way of any farm vehicles which might be trundling back and forth. Then he got out, slung his camera around his neck, feeling the familiar weight of it, and patted his pockets to make sure he had the lenses he might need. He’d attached the telephoto lensbefore he’d left the house, but he mightn’t keep it on the whole time he was out. It depended on what caught his eye and how he was going to photograph it.
Locking his car out of habit, he headed across to the house to speak to Dulcie. But it wasn’t Dulcie who answered his rat-a-tat knock, it was her friend, Carla.
On seeing her, Ashton’s pulse quickened. She really was gorgeous, and although he wasn’t ready to start dating again (it would be quite a while before he put himself out there), at least it proved he might be one day.
‘More post?’ she asked, then she clocked the camera and her eyebrows rose.
‘Hi, is Dulcie in? I need to have a quick word.’
‘Yeah. Hang on a minute.’
She turned away, presenting him with her profile, and he tried not to stare at the curve of her cheek or the way her long lashes curled almost to her brow.
She yelled, ‘Dulcie, your postman wants a word!’
Ashton heard Dulcie shout that she would be there in a second, which left him and Carla gazing awkwardly at each other.
‘You’ve got a big camera,’ she said, then to his amusement she blushed furiously. ‘That’s not a euphemism, by the way.’
He held back a smile. ‘I didn’t think it was.’ He stroked the long lens absently, then realised what he was doing and snatched his hand away. Oh flip, nowhewas blushing.
Carla smirked. ‘What’s your speciality? Or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘What?No!I don’t—! He sighed. ‘Wildlife.’
‘You’re here because of the cat, so am I right in thinking it wasn’t a cat at all?’ She studied him, and he felt the weight of her stare on his face.
‘Probably not. From your description, I’d say it was a stoat or a weasel.’
She shook her head. ‘I doubt it. It was tiny.’
‘You’d be surprised how small they are. Squirrel sized.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Really?’
