6By that evening, just at dusk, Molly had more or less finished unpacking, and she wandered around the house at loose ends even though there were a million things she felt she should be doing. She went out to the garden and inhaled. A summer scent of mown grass with a hint of roses was still in the air, but the garden itself was so overgrown that it was overwhelming to contemplate how much work needed to be done. The orange cat sidled up and rubbed against her leg. Distracted by the garden, she reached down to stroke it and once again the cat bit her and ran under the hedge.
“Nasty beast!” she called after it, and then fled through the gate and into the village for a drink and some company, hoping to find at least one person who could speak English. It was Friday night, and she hoped vill
