Chapter Eight – Hilda PriceIt was Friday morning. d**k had gone to fetch his newspaper and Grace was busy in the kitchen making fruit scones for the weekend. The guest house was busy, having only one single room free, indicating that the holiday season was in full swing. The weeks were passing quickly for Grace, who was in her element organising, cleaning, hosting and cooking. She had to admit that d**k had been pulling his weight too, keeping the gardens neat, taking out rubbish and going down to the market for supplies as and when necessary. He'd even added another two concrete slabs to the patio area, although his wife had just about given up hope of them being able to use it this summer.
As Grace sifted flour and rubbed in butter, she heard the familiar tread of Robbie Powell's boots
