Free Shadow on the Fells by Eleanor Jones Page B

the last of her coffee earlier that morning and coffee was something she definitely couldn’t do without.
    The shop door pinged as Chrissie walked in. She marveled at the abundance. Each shelf was crammed with goods ranging from fresh bread and basics to some exotic items that never seemed to leave the shelves, like dates in small wooden boxes with Arabic writing on the lids.
    After filling her basket she waited to pay, idly glancing at the ads pinned to the notice board. There were border collie puppies for sale, as usual, and a tall pine wardrobe, badly photographed, but beneath that, in bright, eye-catching color, was a more professional-looking flyer.
    COBBLE COTTAGES. Holiday lets still available. Walk the magnificent Lake District fells by day and relax in front of a log fire at night.
    Chrissie tensed as she studied the accompanying photo of a family: mum, dad, two kids and their springer spaniel walking together way up on the hills. What right did this company have to encourage people to put themselves at risk like that? And what chance did sheep farmers like herself have with that kind of advertising around? It made the Lake District look like a playground, and that could mean serious repercussions not just for those who were trying to farm on the fells but for the visitors themselves.
    She hurriedly paid for her goods and left the shop, still fuming at the advertisement as she headed back to her Land Rover. Maybe there was a way to create guidelines for promoting holidays here. There must be someone she could approach about it.
    Chrissie was still contemplating the problem as she nosed her cumbersome vehicle out into the street. That was when she saw Will walking along the side of the road, being pulled along as usual by an impatient Max. Slowing to a stop, she rolled down her window.
    â€œI see your dog is being just as obedient as ever,” she remarked dryly.
    â€œAnd it’s your business because...?” he snapped.
    â€œYou could ask my dead duck about that.”
    Hot color flooded his cheeks. “What? You mean...”
    Chrissie nodded, rummaging in her pocket. “’Fraid so. Here.”
    Will ripped open the brown envelope she handed him and studied her bill, narrowing his eyes. “Are you kidding?” he exclaimed. “Fifty pounds...for a duck?”
    â€œFor that duck, yes.”
    For a moment, he held her eyes with his and to her annoyance she felt her heart rate rise. “You do have to pay for your dog’s mistakes, I’m afraid.”
    He nodded curtly. “I’ll drop off a check...or cash, if you prefer it. It will probably be tomorrow.”
    â€œThanks,” she said. “Oh, and perhaps you’d better leave your out-of-control dog at home.”
    â€œHe’s just young and exuberant,” objected Will. “He needs some training, that’s all.”
    Chrissie nodded. “Well, that’s true. A different breed of dog might have been a good idea, of course... Labradoodles are renowned for being a bit mad.” The advertisement popped into her head again, and her irritation surged. “Maybe you’d be having an easier time if you’d taken your environment into account before buying a farm here.”
    â€œI’m sticking around for some time yet,” Will remarked dryly. “And I do intend to learn about life here, you’ll see.” In one of his sudden mood changes, he grinned. “You never know, I may even eventually get some sheep.”
    Chrissie rolled her eyes in mock horror. “Poor sheep,” she called, putting her foot on the gas. No matter how much he managed to annoy her, she thought, as she drove off down the village street, he always seemed to make her smile.
    * * *
    I T WAS DAWN when Will woke the next morning, just as the first pale rays sneaked over the dark mass of the fell. He lay for a while watching the light grow brighter as nature greeted the day. At night, there was