“I wasn't thinking any such thing”, Olive lied instinctively, “I'll have a look at what you've got.”
Rita Butterworth turned her attention towards Mrs. Langtree who had now sidled up to the cake stall, still wearing her long brown fur coat, despite the almost sweltering heat, leaving Olive to make her choices without a critical eye being cast over her as she did so.
“Are you still interested in coming to clean for us?” enquired the farmer's wife.
Olive's ears pricked up but she pretended to be engrossed in studying a fruity Dundee cake.
“Oh yes dear”, chattered Rita Butterworth, “I can start this Monday if you like.”
“That's wonderful”, grinned Mrs. Langtree, “I am very particular about the standard of cleaning mind.”
“You've no need to worry on that score”, fussed the old lady, “My
