He opened it.
‘Thereisn’t a body in there you want me to dispose of?’ She was joking but as she said the words she wondered. After all, he was suggesting spending thousands on the farm with no hope of return. If a job was going to repay that it would have to be pretty enormous. But although Amy had said how wicked he was, Fran was fairly sure the word ‘murderer’ had never been used.
‘In a manner of speaking. Look.’
She went over and peered into the enormous chest freezer. In it were rows and rows of frozen packages not instantly recognisable.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s pheasants. And some grouse.’
‘Where on earth did they come from? Did they fall off the back of a shoot or something?’
Antony looked sheepish. ‘It was a bit like that.’
‘I think you have to explain further.’ Having Antony on the back foot was not a situation to be wasted.
‘A friend had them. I felt obliged to help out.’
‘You bought them? Why?’
‘Because …’ He shrugged. ‘It’s a long story.’ He looked at her appealingly. ‘Can you get rid of them for me?’
‘You could just hire a digger and bury them.’
He made a sound indicating outrage. ‘What a waste that would be! You’re the woman who can’t throw away milk that has hardly any value. No,’Antonywent on, still sounding cross, ‘I’m happy to help you with money to fix the track and do up a building but—’
Fran put up a peace-making hand. ‘I was joking! You’re quite right. I hate waste and I hate to pass up free stuff. What I’ll do is make pies.’
‘Pies?’
Fran nodded. ‘I spent today in pubs who want good home-made food, something a bit different. I was offering them cheese, but they didn’t want mozzarella – or at least not much of it – but pies? Oh yes. They’d want pies.’ She paused. ‘I happen to make rather wonderful puff pastry. Not that I’m one to boast.’
‘But boasting anyway!’ Antony laughed teasingly. ‘I think pies are an excellent idea! It’ll give you some form of income when the cows go dry.’ He looked at her. ‘You did know that cows go dry about three months before they calve?’
She forced a smile. ‘Oh yes. Of course I did.’ But she knew he knew she was lying.
ChapterSeven
Although she was extremely tired, Fran wrote Issi a quick email as soon as she got back.We need to do the supper club quite soon I think so we can start to raise some money. Let me know when you could get down here and we can get going on publicity.
A few minutes later she sent another email.Any chance you could bring your KitchenAid?
Not on the train, no, came Issi’s reply.Talk in the morning.
As she snuggled down to sleep Fran decided she’d have to buy her own food processor, and possibly a printer, too. Unless, the thought crept in just before she drifted off, Antony had one she could use.
She was up and into her unsuitable wellington boots early the next morning. She wanted to talk to Tig.
‘Morning!’ she said gaily as she found him ushering the herd into the milking parlour. Sheadmiredthe huge brown- and white-flecked beasts whose coats seemed curly, almost woolly, but she kept out of their way. ‘I need to ask you a few things.’
‘Can it wait until after milking or won’t it take long?’ he asked.
‘No, it’s really quick.’
He nodded, indicating she should say what she wanted. He wasn’t a man to waste movements or words. She liked that. He had a good strong nose, she noticed, that set off his eyes and his weathered skin.
‘Firstly, I need to know when the cows go dry and for how long.’
