‘Hope it goes well.’
He swallowed, looked at the ground, toyed with a stone using the side of his shoe. Anything to avoid looking at her, she thought.
‘I’ve had quite a few enquiries since the party at the barn,’ he said.
‘That’s good.’
She moved the raspberry punnets but there still wasn’t room for the basket. She swayed it backwards and forwards to try and deter the wasp.
‘Let me,’ he said, and she stepped back to watch as his hands dexterously moved things around to create a much better display than she could have done, with a perfect space at the side for the basket of figs.
‘Can I walk with you back to the cottage?’ he asked, looking directly at her for the first time.
She felt the breath stall in her chest. This was the moment, she thought, the moment to say no, that it wasn’t dark and it wasn’t far and it wasn’t the nineteenth century, she’d be fine on her own. This was the moment when what she said would make a real difference, would make him realise that she meant what she said the other day. And she was about to say no, she really was, when the wasp dive-bombed towards her foot and stung her right on the end of her big toe.
‘Ouch!’
‘Ouch!’ Lance echoed. ‘I saw that.’
She hopped up and down and he took the basket from her, placing it at a safe distance.
‘Sit down,’ he instructed.
‘I’m fine,’ she said.
‘It was a huge wasp. That must be painful.’
‘It’s not too bad,’ she lied.
The sting was starting to take hold.
‘You’re not allergic?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Thank goodness for that. I’ll go and get the car.’
‘Please don’t. I’m fine. Really. I’ll walk. I’ve got some antihistamine cream at the cottage.’
‘You can’t walk on your own. Look, it’s already swelling up.’
Jules looked down at her toe, which had turned bright red, a white halo encircling the puncture wound.
‘I’m getting the car. Sit down here.’
He led her to the grass verge and pressed her down.
‘Do not move,’ he said.
‘Can you bring a net for the figs?’ she called as he began to bolt back down the drive towards the farmhouse. ‘In the dresser drawer, top right.’
Without turning he raised his right hand and gave her the thumbs up sign before alarming the sheep with the speed at which he ran alongside their field.
‘Antihistamine cream from Tasha,’ he said, the tyres of the Mercedes skidding to a stop in front of her a few minutes later, ‘in case you couldn’t find yours, and a net for the figs.’
‘You’re a fast runner,’ she said.
‘Teenage cross country county team,’ he said. ‘Didn’t know I’d still got it in me. You’re not feeling faint, not going into anaphylactic shock?’
