more buttercup seed in the big meadow. It was a waste of money, but the cows loved them, and the blooms did look pretty in the sunshine.
“Does she kick you often? Because, you know, there are organizations that can help out there. People tend to think that they’re just for women, but they aren’t, it’s a common misconception. Everyone suffers from violence and there is help available. I can get you a leaflet . . .”
Aonghas turned around. “Whit are you talking aboot?” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m just saying,” said Lissa. “Abuse is nothing to be ashamed of. There are people out there who can help, who care.”
“That my cow kicked me halfway to kingdom come because I had cold hands?”
There was a pause.
“Oh,” said Lissa. “Oh!”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Sorry,” she said. “I thought . . .”
“You thought what?”
“I thought Maisie was your wife.”
“Maisie?” Aonghas couldn’t suppress a laugh. “I tell you, lass, if I had to marry one of my cows it wouldn’t be that grumpy aul bitch!”
Lissa suddenly found herself bursting out laughing.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “Sorry. It’s a horrible part of my job.”
“Aye,” said Aonghas reflectively, even as she disinfected the wound area without him even wincing. “Must be.
“Want a bit of lunch?” he said as she finished up with cream and rewrapped the bandage. Normally Lissa would have said no, but she was so unutterably starving hungry. Plus, somehow being around the farmyard and out in the open air had done something to her appetite.
Aonghas got up and stoked the fire, then brought over a stained teapot with fresh tea, a cup of foaming milk, a loaf of fresh white bread, a glass jar full of unidentifiable objects, and a hunk of cheese. He handed Lissa a long, thin metal prong, which she had never before seen in her life. She took it and followed his lead, as he sawed off a rough slice of the bread, poked his toasting fork through it, and held it out just above the flames. Then he did the same with a lump of cheese, until it was melting on the outside, just turning brown around the edges, and starting to drip into the grate, whereupon he roughly spread it on the bread. He opened the glass jar and took out a home-pickled onion, which he took bites of as if it were an apple.
Living in London, Lissa had taken advantage of the many amazing and varied cuisines the capital had to offer. She’d tried kangaroo; she’d eaten vegetarian mango curries with her fingers; she’d watched people throw things in the air at Benihana and lift up glass bowls of smoke and tell her to breathe in straw fumes. Kim-Ange had even once gone to a restaurant where everyone had to eat in the dark and had a very happy evening confusing the other patrons and the waitstaff.
But this was one of the strangest dining experiences she’d ever had. And yet the thick malted bread, slightly charred around the edges; the strong melting cheese; and the tartness of the sour onion all taken together when you were absolutely starving, and washed down with the foamy milk, was one of the most delicious and satisfying meals she’d ever tasted. She sat back in front of the fire with a smile, the sun streaming into the bare room, total silence except for the ticking of an antique clock on the mantelpiece.
“Thank you,” she said eventually. “That was very kind.”
“You’re welcome,” said Aonghas. “I’ll be sure to pass on your regards to Maisie.”
Lissa grinned. “Okay. Listen, don’t get it wet, try to sleep on your front, and I think you can take the bandage off yourself in a week. Otherwise call the service and they’ll make you another appointment.”
Aonghas smiled. “Ach, lass, I think I can manage that.”
“I think you can too,” said Lissa. “Good luck with Maisie.”
“She’s an aul bitch,” said Aonghas.
And Lissa drove away from the farm and stopped by the side of the field, where a clutch of extremely contented-looking peanut-butter-brown and white cows peacefully grazed in the cold sunshine on a field that glowed with buttercups, and they all looked beautiful.
Chapter 29
After several more house calls, and both of them getting lost countless times—as well as a near miss with a cyclist who called Cormac several names he hadn’t heard before and didn’t feel he entirely deserved, and Lissa finding that, off-puttingly, people knew more and more about her as she did the rounds so