Oh, crumbs.
The pen was in the orchard, just by the gate, and Carla was thankful that it wasn’t far because the rabbit was squirming and wriggling. She popped it into the pen, glad to be relieved of the little creature.
‘Do you think we can move the pen?’ Ashton asked.
‘Why?’ She wasn’t being awkward; she genuinely wanted to know.
‘Because I’d like to get a shot of the rabbit without the pen in the picture. Maybe we could put it over there?’ He pointed to an apple tree with lavender growing near the base of the trunk.
Carla could immediately see how the new location would work. The rabbit she had picked was the cutest: lop-eared with black and white fur that would stand out well against the lavender flowers, and the green foliage would hide the metalwork.
She picked the bunny up and held it whilst Ashton moved the pen.
‘Make sure it’s secure,’ she advised, remembering Dulcie telling her that rabbits were excellent escape artists, which was one of the reasons they weren’t left on their own outside for long as the naughty little creatures often tried to dig their way out.
The new location seemed to please the rabbit. It immediately settled down to nibble on a dandelion and Ashton wasted no time taking several shots. He was soon done and ready to move on to the next subject.
‘Goats,’ Carla announced. ‘Let me pop this little fella back first.’ She caught the rabbit, cradling it in her arms as she planted a little kiss on its fluffy head, then quickly returned it to the barn.
When she came back, she found Ashton busily photographing fruit. The trees in the orchard were laden with ripe pears and plums, although the apples weren’t ready for picking just yet. On the other hand, the blackberries were definitely ripe. The shiny black fruit glistened in the sun, andCarla’s mouth watered as she thought of blackcurrant crumble with lashings of golden custard.
They reached the goats’ field and she was quiet for a while, letting Ashton concentrate, but the silence felt strained (although he didn’t seem to notice) and eventually she felt compelled to fill it.
‘Have you always been a postman?’ she asked.
‘Not really. I was a child once.’
‘Ha ha, very funny.’
He grinned at her, revealing those dimples. ‘Yes, I’ve worked for the post office since I left school.’
‘Do you like it?’
‘I do.’
‘Why?’
‘Dunno, really.’ His attention was firmly on the camera, but she noticed his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip and wondered why her question had caused such a reaction.
Carla persevered. ‘Is it because you’re outside a lot?’
‘Partly.’
‘Do the early starts give you more time to do this?’
He paused, holding the camera away from his face. ‘I still do a forty-hour week.’
‘But not nine to five?’
‘No.’ He lifted it back to his face. ‘How about you? What do you do?’
‘I work for an insurance company.’
‘Doing what, exactly?’
‘I’m a fraud investigation officer.’
‘Do you like it?’
