Page 21 of The Village of Lost and Found

‘Let me take your name,’ said Lucy, bringing out her phone. ‘Perhaps I can get my editor to put something in the paper to see if we can find somewhere for you.’

‘That’s very kind. We hadn’t thought of that.’ The lady made a sympathetic face. ‘I’m not sure how many people actually bother to read it these days, but it might be worth a shot.’

As Lucy drove away, she wondered how many other people felt the same way about the newspaper and once more felt hopelessly feeble that there was nothing she could do to help.

Her last delivery was for Cranley Court Farm, just outside Cranbridge. Driving along the winding lanes, Lucy unwound her car window all the way down to let the warm June air in. Summer had arrived and the forecasters were predicting a bumper sunny one. But despite the glorious rhododendron trees rising ten feet tall along the narrow lanes and lining the road with pink and purples flowers, Lucy was feeling uneasy.

The newspaper wasn’t popular, that was becoming apparent. But she needed to protect Uncle Frank from any further hurt. Surely there was something she could do to help turn their fortunes around?

But what? So far all she had managed was to tidy a few papers and make some deliveries, neither of which was going to have a significant impact. But there had to be something, she found herself hoping.

She eventually sought out the small lane leading up to the farm and brought the car to a halt just in front of a dilapidated farmhouse. She switched off the engine and listened to the sound of nature through her open window for a moment.

She looked again at the farmhouse and wondered if anyone was even living there. It seemed pretty run-down.

Getting out of her car, she went around to pick up the last newspapers on the back seat and began to walk towards the front door.

But before she could walk too far, a man suddenly appeared around the side of the farmhouse. He looked a little startled upon seeing her but continued to walk towards her. As he neared, she realised he was absolutely gorgeous. He was tall and slim with golden skin and blond, ruffled hair.

‘Can I help?’ he asked, breaking into a smile. A wide, perfect smile that lit up his face and dark, dark eyes.

Lucy automatically stood up a little straighter. ‘Hi. I’m fromThe Cranbridge Times,’ she told him, trying out a dazzling smile of her own.

‘Ah. Is this about the subscription?’ he asked.

Lucy shook her head. ‘I’m just the delivery girl today,’ she said, holding out the newspaper for him. ‘I’m afraid we were a bit delayed this past week.’

At that moment, a grey shaggy dog trotted up to them both and promptly sat on Lucy’s feet.

The man looked surprised. ‘Well, he’s not normally a people-person, but he clearly likes you.’

Lucy blushed and bent down to stroke the dog’s head. His fur was wiry and not smooth. In response, the dog leant against her leg.

The man laughed, lighting up his handsome face. ‘Considering how nervous he’s been ever since I found him here, that’s a big step forward.’

Lucy looked up at the man. ‘You found him here?’

‘He was my uncle’s dog,’ he told her. ‘This whole farm was his until he passed away earlier this year.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ she said.

‘Not as sorry as I am,’ replied the man with a heavy sigh. ‘It’s not really my dream location.’

‘That’s a shame,’ said Lucy. ‘You’re not from around here?’

He shook his head. ‘Nope. I’m as far out of my comfort zone as I can be trying to keep the farm going, to be honest. I don’t know anything about looking after cows or trying to control a bull which keeps escaping.’ He frowned as he took the paper from her. ‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to cancel the subscription,’ he told her. ‘It’s just one more thing that I don’t need.’

‘I understand,’ she told him. It was yet another person who didn’t feel the need for a local newspaper any more, she thought sadly.

He held out his hand. ‘I’m Henry, by the way.’

‘Lucy,’ she told him, with a smile.

As they shook hands, the touch of his caused her skin to tingle.

‘And who’s this?’ she asked, glancing down at the dog who was still leaning against her legs.

Henry shrugged his shoulders. ‘Uncle Jack just used to call him dog.’