They nodded in unison. “It's very good”, replied Mrs. Hamilton finishing off the last drop.
“Lovely”, added Olive, trying to imagine this very strange man trying to clamber amongst the bushes to pick berries to take home to brew. “I'll look forward to drinking that bottle at Christmas.”
“Do come round if you need another bottle”, urged Mr. Muller, “You know where we live.”
Olive gestured that she would, but knew in her heart that she would never voluntarily step foot inside the German man's house, or indeed inside any of the other cottages in this strange old village. She looked hard at Wolfgang Muller, trying to see if his inner wickedness actually penetrated his outer layer, but he just looked like a boring middle-aged man with very little personality.
“Thank you”, she ventured, smil
