Bunburry--Sinners and Saints by Helena Marchmont

Author:Helena Marchmont [Helena Marchmont]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bastei Entertainment
Published: 2021-02-10T15:19:36+00:00

8. The Mills Farm Shop

Marge picked up Haridasa’s half-drunk cup of tea and put it on the tray along with the other crockery.

“Liz, I’ve been thinking about what Harry said.”

“So have I, dear,” said Liz heavily.

“I think the fudge would be a great success in India, and they’ve got a very big population,” said Marge. “But it would take a long time to get there, and the postage would be prohibitive. I don’t think we could guarantee it would be at its best, particularly in such a hot climate.”

“Goodness, you’ve been doing quite a lot of thinking.”

“That’s my job, Clarissa. I’m the business manager. I have to be strategic. All you have to do is make the fudge.”

“It does seem a very unfair division of labour,” said Liz.

Marge picked up the tray and set off for the kitchen. “I don’t mind. So that led me to think about the Mills farm shop.”

“I’ve been thinking about that too, dear,” sighed Liz.

Amid the sound of the tray being unloaded, Marge called: “They’re outside our catchment area. And the break-in must have been a big financial loss for them. If we can get them to sell our fudge, it’s a win-win situation.”

“My fudge, dear,” Liz murmured. “I’m the one who makes it.”

“And,” said Marge, returning to the parlour, “while we’re there, we can ask a question or two.”

“Marge, dear, that really is an excellent idea.” Liz was smiling now. “Let me pick up a box of fudge and we can be on our way.”

It was a cloudless, sunny day, the rolling Cotswold hills lush and inviting. But Marge had no time to admire the landscape as she concentrated on negotiating the narrow B-roads.

“I hadn’t realised it was so far,” she grumbled.

“I’m sure they say the same about Bunburry, dear,” said Liz.

Eventually, they spotted a hand-made sign with an arrow at the side of the road: Mills Farm Shop 300 yards.

Marge took the turn-off and the car bumped lurched its way along a pot-holed track.

“Why are farm roads always so dreadful?” she complained.

“Maybe farmers have other priorities,” said Liz as they pulled up beside an outbuilding that proclaimed itself to be the farm shop.

When they stepped over the threshold, they were greeted by the smell of glue and wet paint. The display units were practically empty, with a few home-made jams and chutneys, cheeses, and organic soaps.

A middle-aged woman bustled in through a door at the back, marked “Café”. She was wearing a floral apron, her frizzy dark hair framing a rather anxious face.

“In for a look round, ladies? Sorry, we don’t have much available at the moment.”

“Yes, we know,” said Marge. “We’re from Bunburry, and we were really shocked to hear what happened. Are you Mrs Mills?”

The woman nodded. “Brenda Mills.”

“I’m Marge Redwood, and this is Liz Hopkins. We came because we wanted to show our support.”

She picked up a jar of red onion chutney. “This looks good. Oh, damson and apple jam. I’ll have that as well.”

“I love lavender soap,” said Liz behind her.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.