Free Always in My Heart by Ellie Dean Page A

deal of damage to the town.
    Peggy was about to hold out her arms for Daisy so she could put her in the special cot, when she saw how Mrs Finch’s old face was alight with love as she looked down at the baby she cradled – and how the arthritic fingers so tenderly touched her cheek and held her close. Daisy’s wide, unfocussed blue eyes looked up at her, and it seemed as if she understood the muttered words of endearment and was soothed by them.
    Peggy felt an almost overwhelming need to cry at this heart-warming scene, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat and blink back tears as she tidied the blankets and rifled in the box for the milk and tea.
    The deep inside pockets of Ron’s ankle-length poacher’s coat held a hare and a brace of rabbit. He’d been tramping the hills for most of the day, glad to be out of the house despite the appalling weather, and had hoped to snare a couple of ducks from Lord Cliffe’s lake. Unfortunately, some stupid bugger hadput up a big wire fence which seemed to stretch the entire length of the estate and effectively shut him out.
    This fence had really got his back up, for the Cliffe estate was one of his hunting grounds now the gamekeepers and groundsmen had gone off to war, and with Lord Cliffe spending more time in London, it had become Ron’s personal larder. He’d walked the length of the fence and then peered through the gloom at the big notice that had been nailed to one of the sturdy posts and grimaced in disgust. The Forestry Commission had taken the place over – and trespassers would be arrested and heavily fined.
    Not that this particular threat worried him; he was always trespassing, and so far had eluded those trying to catch him. But it did worry him that the wire seemed very strong and the fence was much too high for a man of his age to negotiate. With a large household to feed it would just make life more difficult.
    He’d stood there in deep contemplation as Harvey ran back and forth in search of anything hidden beneath the tough, wind-blown grass and spiny gorse. The lake had provided ducks and quails along with their eggs. There were salmon in the streams that ran through the estate forest, and pheasant and partridge, even the occasional deer. Alf the butcher and Fred the fishmonger paid well for anything he managed to get, and although the risks involved were high, it was worth it just for the excitement.
    Deciding to bring his wire-cutters next time, he’d eventually turned his back on the fence and headedmorosely for home. It was already dark, and although it had at last stopped raining, the wind still tore across the hills like a fury, chilling Ron to the bone despite his woolly hat, three sweaters and thick coat. Yet his mind wasn’t really on his discomfort or even on the problems posed by the new fence – it was occupied with thoughts of Rosie and the strange way she’d been acting just lately.
    Rosie was the landlady of the Anchor pub, and the best-looking woman in Cliffehaven as far as Ron was concerned. Blessed with an hourglass figure, long, slender legs and eyes a man could drown in, she exerted a powerful attraction, and Ron had been besotted with her from the moment she’d arrived. But Rosie had played hard to get, and although there was no doubting that she liked him, she’d kept him at arm’s length for years.
    There had always been a bit of a mystery about Rosie, for no one knew anything much about her, other than that she’d come from outside of town to take over the Anchor, and that there didn’t appear to be a husband in the picture despite the fact she wore a wedding ring. Lively and attractive in her early fifties, she’d set many a heart fluttering amongst her male customers, but she’d kept them at arm’s length too, run an orderly house and seen to it that there was never a breath of scandal attached to her.
    Ron had begun to help change the barrels and bring the crates up from the cellar when the pub was shut, and little