Joyce eyed her sternly. ‘I like Bernie, very much so, but I can’t help thinking he has a hidden agenda, first casting aspersions on your relationship with Felix, which was none of his business, especially as he barely knew you, then making sure he spends as much time with you as possible so that he can get his feet under the table as it were!’

Roz rolled her eyes despairingly. ‘Only how can he cause me to doubt my feelings for Felix if I really love him?’

‘Because he’s used to getting what he wants, and he wants you!’ Placing her arm around Roz’s shoulder, she softened her tone. ‘Don’t let him get under your skin, Roz.’

‘What should I do?’ Roz sniffed.

‘Stop listening to Bernie for a start.’ Joyce jerked her head in the direction of the pigs. ‘We can figure this out whilst we see to the pigs.’ They got the wheelbarrows and forks and headed for the pigsties. Opening the door, Joyce held up the board which stood beside the wall and herded the pigs into an empty pen so that they might continue their work interrupted.

‘Whoever thought having the affections of two men would be so difficult?’ said Roz as she sifted the manure out of the straw.

Laughing, Joyce pointed at herself. ‘Me!’

‘I often wish I’d never met Bernie,’ Roz admitted. ‘I was happy with Felix before, or at least I thought I was.’

‘You’re getting your knickers in a twist for no reason,’ said Joyce. ‘Felix is across the other side of the country, and he hasn’t a clue you’re questioning your feelings. The way I see it, you’ve got plenty of time to make up your mind.’

Roz rested her hands on the fork. ‘You’re right. What Felix doesn’t know won’t harm him, and as I’m not intending on starting anything with Bernie, I’m not doing anything wrong.’ She began forking the manure into the barrow. ‘I’m just so confused.’

‘Unsurprising with Bernie working his magic,’ Joyce said acerbically. ‘What you need is time to yourself, and I’d wager you’ve not had that since leaving your parents behind.’

Roz felt a pang of guilt. Felix had done nothing but think about her wellbeing since he’d met her, yet here she was putting herself first, which in truth was all she had ever done, or at least that’s how it felt to her. She said as much to Joyce.

‘Better that than being like me,’ said Joyce resolutely. ‘For years I put everyone else first, which only made me miserable.’

‘I wouldn’t say I was living in misery exactly,’ said Roz.

‘But you aren’t happy either,’ argued Joyce. ‘If you want my opinion, you’ll forget about men for a bit and concentrate on yourself. If they don’t understand that, then you have to question whether either of them really loves you.’