Distraction

Chapter Seven

'Hello, Olivia? This is Andrea Golding, from Low Wood Farm.'

Two days later, with the sun sitting in a cloudless sky, Libby wandered along Market Street, falling ever more in love with Gosthwaite. The butcher's specialised in locally-reared meat, the baker's offered to slice their freshly made, wholemeal bread and the multi-coloured array of veg outside the grocer's looked like an advert for organic living. It didn't stop there. The cafe overlooked the River Lum, the village hall had a second-hand book sale, complete with honesty box, and the post office sold everything from boiled sweets to Herdwick wool blankets. And more importantly, everyone she passed said, hello. This was why she'd left Manchester. This was the idyllic rural dream.  

After four days of working with Sandra Langton-Browne and a morning sanding skirting boards, Libby decided she deserved the afternoon off. A roast chicken sandwich, a punnet of strawberries and a jug of iced-tea would accompany her in the garden as she soaked up the sun and read a fifty pence copy of Chocolat. Or maybe more of the spell book - her top secret, guilty pleasure.  

Libby hadn't mentioned the box of Wicca goodies in case Zoe threw it away like the rest of Maggie's belongings. And she certainly hadn't mentioned performing the Good Luck spell. In the cold light of day, Libby knew there was no such thing as magic but when she lay in bed at night, she couldn't deny her life had significantly improved. 

Xander had been good as his word and for the last two mornings, he'd shown her new running routes, threatening to take her up to Lum Crag on Sunday. Libby looked up, frowning at the rocky outcrop to the north of the village. Even on a sunny day, it looked dark, menacing and a long way up, but if Xander thought it was worth it, she'd go. She didn't fancy him, no matter what Zoe's psychoanalysis diagnosed, but a serious case of hero-worship was definitely building.  

Better still, Sandra hadn't set foot on the yard since Wednesday morning so work had even become bearable. Libby whistled as she passed the church, swinging her shopping bag and reading the opening pages of her book. Three days off lay before her, and the forecast said the sun would shine on every one of them. Now, all she needed was for the good luck to spread to the interview at Low Wood Farm in the morning.  

Back in the square, she spotted a police car parked outside Maggie's cottage. Oh god, had something awful happened? The downside of living so far away from her parents was that bad news would always be delivered by police officers with their hats off. Approaching with trepidation, she relaxed a little seeing the car was empty. They couldn't be here for her. 

'Libby!' Sheila waved from her doorstep. 'Lovely day, isn't it? Have you met my eldest, Andy?' 

And from the house stepped the missing police officer. Libby tried not to smile. About thirty, with dark hair, his short-sleeved white shirt and black stab vest tripled his cute factor. Ah, a man in uniform. Shame he didn't have the hat on. Libby crossed the lawn to the rickety wooden fence between her garden and Sheila's.  

'After he left the Met, Andy became our local officer.' Sheila gazed up at him with maternal adoration. 'Works ever so hard, keeping us safe.' 

Andy laughed, cringing under his mother's praise. 'Lay off, Mum.'  

'Nice to meet you,' Libby said, as they shook hands. A little shorter than she preferred, but definitely on the cute side.  

'I've been telling Andy all about you, Libby.' Sheila's smile turned coy. 'How you're new to the area, and wouldn't it be nice if you had someone to show you around?' 

Libby stared in horror at her neighbour. 'I, er...' 

'Mum, for crying out loud-' 

'Oh, is that the phone?' Sheila ducked inside, but not before she gave Libby a conspiratorial wink.