The note looked old and the ink was faded. Emily wondered if she was reading the word ‘distaff’ right as she had never heard of such a thing. How would she know what she was supposed to be looking for? A diagram would have been nice.
Emily moved away from the church noticeboard, annoyed at having to resort to reading boring announcements to kill time. Huffing more than a little, she pulled her woolly hat over her ears and stuffed her gloved hands deep into her pockets. A comfortable hum of conversation leaked from inside the warm pub. Her granddad said he would ‘only be a tick’ and, already, ten minutes had gone past. If he was in there having a swift half while she was outside freezing to death, there’d be hell to pay.
Again, she played with the idea of going in to fetch him, but the thought of Harry stopped her. Harry, the Innkeeper’s son, serving behind the bar with his dad. Harry who’d kissed her like she was everything three whole weeks ago and completely ignored her ever since.
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