“Yes!”

“This is Fintan’s niece, Agot,” said Isla. “Agot, this is Konstantin. He works at Colton’s hotel and this is his dog, Bjårk Bjårkensson.”

Agot looked at Bjårk with undisguised dislike. “I don’t like his dog.”

Konstantin looked at her, insulted. “That’s a puddle, not an ice rink.”

There was a pause. Then Agot turned tail and rushed back to the farmhouse, bawling her eyes out.

“Well done,” said Isla crossly. “She’s five. And your boss’s niece.”

“Well, she should have better manners,” said Konstantin, going slightly pink.

“So should you! She’s a child!”

“I am now concerned we will be banned from their dairy,” said Gaspard. “You—keep your mouth shut.”

Flora came down to meet them, holding hands with a howling Agot. Konstantin immediately went forward to meet them.

“I am very sorry,” he said, crouching down in front of the child, although he still sounded sullen. “My dog should not have broken your ice rink.”

“That’s because he’s a very bad dog,” said Agot, and Konstantin bit his lip to stop himself saying any more and straightened up again.

“Okay,” said Flora. “Is that it?”

“I am not sure,” said Isla to Flora quietly, as they headed up toward the dairy, “which one of them is more spoiled.”

And Flora would normally have leaped to defend her family. But today, with Douglas being fretful because his dad was away, she just laughed. It had been a challenging day. The baby had grizzled and growled, and she had found herself jealous of Joel sitting on a plane, both hands free, drinking a cup of coffee, reading the paper, even though she knew he didn’t want to go and sit in meetings, didn’t want to leave them. But the day stretched ahead, and she’d been up three times in the night and her brain was a fog, and there was so much laundry to be done but she couldn’t put the baby down. Sharing a laugh with Isla was definitely an improvement.

Chapter 21

F lora brought everyone into the kitchen, where she had made Fintan lay out a selection of everything, so Gaspard could choose what he wanted and how much he was going to use. The idea of using another supplier was not on the table, and Fintan hadn’t wanted to do it at all, but Flora had talked him round by stressing how important it was and how the more their produce could be used, the better it would be for everyone.

So there were plates laid out with butter: salted, unsalted, garlic smoked, and olive, plus an exquisite fleur de sel, which had large salt crystals in it and, when spread cold on fresh warm bread with a cracked exterior and a yeasty crumb, could make grown men weep.

It was warm in the farmhouse. Bramble got up from his normal spot lying practically in the fire to say hello to Bjårk, who returned the bum sniff then, both of them satisfied neither was interested in fighting or shagging the other, casually followed him back to the fire and lay down with him back to back. Bjårk had been walking for approximately twenty minutes; the lazy creature now required approximately forty-eight hours of recovery rest. Agot, performing skating moves by herself in the corner, gave him the occasional dirty look.