Free Pastures New by Julia Williams Page B

origin of the phrase “a barnet” for a haircut.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘Cockney rhyming slang – Barnet Fair, hair,’ said Amy.
    ‘Right,’ said Ben, laughing. ‘If you’re interested, I’ve got lots of books on Nevermorewell. They reckon there was a hamlet here as far back as Anglo-Saxon times, but the town didn’t really get going till Norman times. They built on a river for obvious reasons, but in olden days it was reckoned to be a healthy sort of place to live. “You’re Never More Well than when you’re in Nevermorewell”, is the saying around here.’
    ‘Saffron mentioned that,’ said Amy. ‘I’ll have to come back and borrow a few books sometime.’
    They smiled at one another, pleased to have found some common ground. Amy glanced at her watch.
    ‘Sheesh! Is that the time? I’d better get going,’ she said. ‘I need to sort Josh’s tea out.’
    ‘You could both eat here if you like? I can rustle up a mean stir-fry.’
    ‘No, thanks, it’s very kind of you,’ Amy said, sorely tempted at the prospect of company as well as someone cooking for her, ‘but he’s got school tomorrow and needs an early night. I really ought to drag him in from the garden.’
    They both got up and had another moment’s awkwardness while they nearly fell over each other trying to negotiate round Ben’s tiny table.
    Amy’s confusion made her slightly jumpy. Once outside, when they couldn’t find Josh, she started to panic, until Ben laughed and said, ‘I see you’ve found my prized possession.’
    At the bottom of Ben’s garden in the far corner was a small garage. With a gleaming black and silver motorbike in it. Amy hadn’t thought about the bike since their first meeting. And there was Josh, sitting triumphantly on the seat, his legs dangling down at the sides. Amy took a deep breath. She should be over this paranoia about motorbikes. Really she should. But she wasn’t. What was it with men and motorbikes? It was Jamie’s obsession with his that had led to his death.
    ‘Look Mummy, isn’t it cool?’ Josh said. ‘Brmmm, brmm.’
    It felt as though he and Ben were laughing at her. Amy screamed, ‘Get off there at once!’
    ‘It’s all right,’ said Ben. ‘He’s only playing. He won’t come to any harm.’
    ‘No it is not all right,’ said Amy. ‘Motorbikes are lethal machines used by stupid blokes whose dicks are too small. It is so not all right for my son to play on one. Come on, Josh, we’re going home.’
    She grabbed Josh and tore past Ben, hoping he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes, slamming the garden gate shut.
    Ben stood watching her go, his mouth wide open. ‘Now what have I done?’ he said.

CHAPTER SIX
    Saffron peeked left and right, making sure there was no one to watch her, before diving into Nevermorewell’s answer to Ann Summers: a discreet ‘lingerie’ shop that sold sex toys to make your mother blush. She had the pram with her. Oh lord, how dumb was that? Did other women take their babies out to buy sexy underwear? Was it some kind of bad parenting to take your newborn into an atmosphere rife with passion; a place that boasted Licked Up Love Juice and Pump Up Your Volume Potion? What if someone had seen her? She hadn’t even looked at anything yet and already paroxysms of embarrassment were screwing her up. Two cheerful French girls were chattering away, fingering lacy garments Saffron could barely look at, let alone touch, and she envied their insouciance.
    ‘Can I help you?’ Saffron nearly jumped out of her skin.
    The slim, twenty-something shop assistant appeared friendly enough, but to Saffron it seemed that there was a sneer in her smile: a sneer that seemed to say,What on earth is some fat middle-aged frump like you doing in a place like this? Who do you think you’re kidding?
    Who indeed? Saffron already knew this was a big mistake. But, happening to have heard a slot on the Jeremy Vine show about spicing up your sex life, she’d discovered that all she