‘No, he does not!’ said Joyce indignantly. ‘The lazy beggar can do it himself. You can help me with the hens.’

‘And there I was hoping to not lift another finger. She’s a hard taskmaster is Joyce,’ chuckled Bernie. He winked at Roz. ‘Go on, queen, I’ll be along in a bit, before she comes after me with a pitchfork.’

Watching him through narrowed eyes, Joyce turned to Roz. ‘Did you enjoy doing the milk round?’

Roz nodded. ‘Very much so. Have you ever been?’

Joyce’s eyes grew wide. ‘Good lord, no! Like I said, I prefer it in the sticks.’

‘I know, but surely you must be curious? When was the last time you visited the city?’

Joyce mulled this over. ‘Can’t remember, and that’s the way I prefer to keep it.’

‘What about friends or family?’ Roz asked. ‘Surely you must miss them?’

Joyce gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘None to speak of; besides, I prefer animals to humans, they come with less complications.’

Roz laughed. ‘You’re not wrong!’ She looked over to Bernie who was carrying Goliath’s harness to the tack shed. Why did she have to come to a farm that had someone like Bernie living on it? Life had been simple before she met him.

Taking a tray, Felix joined the line in the NAAFI. So far his introduction to army life was going well, and he rather thought he was suited to it. He had made friends easily, and he enjoyed the drills and exercises. Whilst he had felt free when working for Alan and Bill, they had provided a family environment, whereas the army gave him a true feeling of freedom, which was strange considering the constant orders, discipline and routine he had to follow.

‘How do,’ called a familiar voice from behind him. Felix half glanced over his shoulder to his pal Ronnie, who had joined the queue.

‘Not bad, you?’ replied Felix as he moved up the queue.

‘Ready for a cuppa, I know that,’ said Ronnie. ‘One of them fruitless scones wouldn’t go amiss neither, if there’s any left by the time we get there.’

Felix smiled. Ronnie, like most men in the army, thought with his stomach.

‘My Matilda makes beautiful scones, fruitless or otherwise,’ Ronnie continued. ‘Does that Roz of yours make you cakes?’

Felix pulled a face. ‘She’s never been in a position to, but I reckon she will once we’re married.’ He gazed at the scones. ‘I know she’ll be a grand cook.’

‘Married, eh?’ chuckled Ronnie. ‘Don’t you think you’re rushing into things a bit?’

Felix gave his friend a lopsided grin. ‘If you knew her, you’d understand. She’s one in a million is my Roz, beautiful, funny, clever, talented and kind.’