smiled. ‘Yep. Wriggly little buggers but once they’re calm and feeding, it’s quite peaceful. The rest of the day I’m mucking stables out, repairing fences, retrieving livestock that have decided to go wandering … knackering work really, but worth it.’
Claire breathed in the air, taking in the smell of grass and brine. ‘Have you been farming all your life?’
‘Yep, the farm’s been in our family for generations. My older brother Dale joined the Forces when I was thirteen, so our parents relied on me and my sister Jen to help out. When they passed away, they left the farm to Dale – it always gets passed down to the oldest son.’
Claire thought about what Henry had told her about Milo’s grandfather committing suicide. ‘When did your parents pass away?’ she asked softly.
‘When I was seventeen. Dad had a heart attack and Mum died not long after from a stroke. Jen reckons she died of a broken heart.’
‘That must have been a tough time.’
‘Yep. They had us pretty late so they weren’t exactly spring chickens but to lose them within a few months of each other …’ He sighed. ‘To make matters worse, Dale had just recovered from his injuries after getting back from the Falklands.’ By injuries, Claire wondered if he meant psychological injuries too, considering what Henry had so indiscreetly told her. ‘He was desperate to get back to army life but he had to stay and look after the farm. He did really well at first actually,’ Milo continued. ‘The farm’s turnover nearly doubled, the animals were happier than they’d ever been – fewer visits to the vets, more births. Then this whole BSE thing happened.’
‘Were there any cases on the farm?’ Claire asked as they reached the middle of the river. It was very dark there, the trees bending right over both sides of the river.
‘No, but once a link between BSE and vCJD was made, that was it, milk production and beef sales nosedived. Dale’s really struggled to hold things together.’
‘But the farm’s still here, your brother did well to ride the worst of it. And the profits from the inn must help too?’
His shoulders tensed. ‘Hardly. We barely get anything from that.’
‘But Henry implied—’
‘That he was our saviour?’
‘Not in so many words …’
‘Don’t worry, he tells us himself whenever he gets the chance. Yes, the share we get of the profits helps. But if we’d kept the land we sold to him a few years back, we’d have got a much better price for it now. Bloody Henry!’
He quickened his step, striding across the rest of the river so fast Claire had to jog to keep up with him. As they neared the other bank, her foot scooted out from under her and she nearly stumbled. He turned, grabbing the tops of her arms, steadying her. ‘Careful now.’
She peered up at him, taking in the fine stubble on his chin, the slight bump in his nose she hadn’t noticed before. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple rising and falling, and she imagined placing her lips on it.
She turned away in surprise, face flushing. Where on earth had that image come from?
‘Come on, we’re on the other path now,’ he said. ‘The better path.’
She followed his gaze towards a small path weaving its way from the bank up into the hills. Blue was already some way up the path, front paws on a tree stump as he looked down at them. Maybe she should turn back? She should have followed her instincts and not come with Milo. She was vulnerable after what had happened between her and Ben, her mind all a fizz. But how would it look if she turned back now?
One walk, she thought, then that’s it, I’ll avoid him for the rest of my stay.
Claire let Archie down and followed Milo up the bank. Viewed from the path Claire had walked along yesterday, this area had looked like a mass of wild trees and bushes.
‘So where’d you grow up?’ Milo asked Claire.
‘Everywhere. My dad was a travel writer too, freelance though,’ she explained. ‘We tagged along with him all over the world as he was paid by different newspapers and magazines to write about the places we visited.’
‘What about school?’
‘Mum’s a teacher, she home-schooled me and my sister.’
A memory struck Claire then, from when her family had visited the Japanese city of Osaka when she was ten. They were staying in a hotel overlooking the river so they could watch the famous Tenjin Matsuri boat festival the next day. After coming back from lunch one day, Claire had seen a group of school kids chasing each other down the path below her hotel room. She remembered thinking she’d give up all her travels to be one of those kids, secure at school and surrounded by friends. But the next evening, as she’d watched the beautifully lit boats glide down the river below, she’d thought what a fool she’d been to think that. This was the battle that had always raged inside, her yearning for normality versus her wanderlust.
‘Do you have any siblings other than your sister?’ Milo asked.
Claire snapped out of her memory. ‘No, just Sofia. She has a kid about the same age as Holly actually, Alex. He’s great. Holly’s your niece, right?’
‘Yep.’
‘What about her mum?’
His eyes slipped away from Claire’s. ‘She left a few years back. Dale got sole custody of Holly.’ He leaned down to pick up a pebble, cleaning it on his sleeve. ‘So did your dad get you into writing?’
‘Yeah,’ she said eventually, noting the change of subject. ‘He even got one of my articles published when I was just thirteen.’
‘Impressive. What was it about?’
Claire smiled to herself. ‘It was just a short article about the Sichuan giant panda sanctuaries in the south-west of China. But I loved seeing my name in print.’
‘Wow, you really have been to some amazing places. What was it like?’
‘Wonderful. My dad knows one of the managers so we got a private tour. The sanctuaries are spread across the edge of the Qionglai and Jiajin mountains. I remember being in complete awe of the lush green landscapes and imposing mountains. And that’s before we even got to the pandas.’ She laughed. ‘They’re so fluffy, just like they’ve been plucked from a giant toy box. My dad noticed me scribbling away in my notepad so suggested I write an article. He sent it to the editor of a children’s section in one of the national newspapers and he published it.’ Claire looked down at the silver globe pendant hanging from her bag. ‘My dad got me this to mark the occasion, my first ever published article.’
Milo’s eyes widened.
‘What’s up?’ Claire asked.
He smiled, pulling the collar of his jumper down to reveal a bronze globe pendant hanging from a length of black leather twine wrapped around his neck.
‘I didn’t know you were into travelling,’ Claire said, surprised.
‘Oh,
