The trip into the city was the best journey Roz had ever undertaken. From the wild flowers adorning the hedgerows, to the sun sparkling off the sea in the distance, she thought she had never been anywhere as beautiful as this.

The houses they delivered to reminded Roz very much of the ones they had delivered to when she had been doing the coal round. The women came out with jugs, bottles, cups, bowls, anything that could hold milk, and Bernie would charge them accordingly, although Roz observed he always gave the women a good deal, unlike Callum who was mean with his portions. She also noticed how these women reacted when they saw Bernie coming toward them.

Like giggling schoolgirls, Roz told herself, yet some of them are old enough to know better. She realised that these were the thoughts of a jealous woman, but why on earth was she jealous of someone who had cast doubt in her mind? It’s because you know he’s a catch, she told herself, and even if you don’t want him, it’s nice knowing that he might want you!

By the time they were on their way back from their rounds, Roz felt she knew Bernie a lot better. He lived a carefree life, only really involving himself in anything to do with farming and having little opinion on other matters. They had talked in passing about the war and the refugees, but Roz felt that he was only interested in her story, not in anything that was going on in Germany itself.

‘My father said that these people in power should concentrate on what matters,’ he told her as he turned onto the road which led to the farm, ‘like taking care of those that can’t look after themselves and making sure there’s enough to go round.’

Roz laughed doubtfully. ‘I’m not saying your father is wrong, but I don’t think that’s the main concern of any government, at home or abroad.’

‘That’s why I keep away from politics, and do what I can,’ said Bernie as he turned Goliath into the yard. He glanced in the direction they had come from. ‘Not all those women can afford the milk we sell, so I either make sure they have extra or don’t charge them at all. It’s not like we can’t afford it. And there’s no way the government officials can prove how much our cows produce, or whether I’ve spilt the odd bit of milk by accident,’ he said with a wink.

‘Perhaps you should run for Prime Minister,’ said Roz, ‘when all this is over, of course.’

Bernie pulled Goliath to a stop. ‘No chance! I’m a farmer to my bones, I wouldn’t want to be anything else.’

‘Do you want a hand to put him away?’ she asked, sliding from her seat.