"I'll make it for two then shall I?"

"I'm absolutely starving", stated Sarah emphatically. "And I feel in a sort of limbo – things to do that I don't want to do if you know what I mean? So I thought I'd drop in as you suggested – hope you don't mind."

"You've been blessed of the Hobby Horse so you're always welcome", Beth beamed. "And you would be anyway.

She led her into the old farm house. Its walls were white and uneven. The long passageway they travelled down led into a fairly modern kitchen that overlooked a part of the garden previously hidden to Sarah. Sarah flopped onto an old rocking chair next to an old Raeburn cooker with a big sigh.

"Does every body that comes to visit you feel that they are coming home", she enquired.

"Many do", Beth confirmed, "but it's not me that makes them feel this way it's the spirit of Exmoor that weaves the spell".

Sarah was too tired to give more than a brief sceptical glance before stretching her arms wide and letting the chair rock back into the optimum position for relaxation.

"So tell me all about what was going on the other time I saw you", said Beth.

Two brown trout were already on the grill and speckles of fresh herbs were deftly scattered over them as they cooked creating a pungent and intoxicating smell.

Sarah gave a fairly honest account of the events to date

"Poor dear", was Beth's only comment.

She fixed Sarah with a stern gaze.

"You are staying the night I presume."

"Do you know, I couldn't be evicted - even with a court order - sighed Sarah dreamily - then her choice of words made her sad.

Dinner was served on a small paved area surrounded by rose trees just out side the back door to the kitchen. It faced South and the setting sun warmed its' old stone flags and created shadows in the bushes around. Beth found a flagon of cider under the stairs. Its' dry flavour complemented perfectly the subtle aroma and taste of the grilled trout.

Dessert was a dish of tiny wild strawberries, marinated in more sweet cider. The world's nastiness seemed faraway. Sarah decided she'd found heaven. And during the meal Beth chatted amiably about the people of the village, her life and the way she saw things.

Sensitive as always, she seemed to understand that Sarah needed to keep back much about herself for the present. Later they went down the road and joined in with the folk singing and playing. Sarah even gave a couple of thumps on a new Bodhran that Beth had given her which was admired by all.

"He do make a nice bit of kit m'dear do 'e at Stogursey", was the general opinion on the state of the Bodhran.

There were a couple of fellows that seemed to take a shine to the new pretty lady in their midst. A warning look from Beth was all it took to relieve Sarah of their more boisterous attentions. Nevertheless, she thought, it was nice to be admired - as long as it was from afar.

The bed she slipped into that night at Beth's was very soft with thick white sheets and the mixture of heady country music, strong local drink and good food soon had her asleep.

She slumbered deeply and satisfyingly, dreaming of cottages in deep valleys where children could play without risk and where she warmed the slippers of her young man and pruned roses in the evenings.

She slept in and didn't see Beth until lunchtime but then she seemed unusually quiet.

"What's caught your tongue," enquired Sarah.

"There's been somebody asking about you at the inn."