Before the Fact
“I don’t understand the rush, Caroline,” Leslie said as he stopped to tie an errant shoelace. Since the moment they’d left the cottage that morning she’d crooked her arm in his and practically dragged him down the high street, past the clock tower and very nearly managed to pitch them both into the river by the tannery.
“When the WVS calls,” she said, “we answer.”
“A gathering of women volunteers. What the hell do they need men for?”
Caroline made one eyebrow fly up and the other down simultaneously. “You’d be surprised, Les.” They’d rounded the vicarage, and she was now shoving him through an open door, propelling him up the stairs.
“I don’t want or need a course in first aid,” Leslie said. “Of all the ridiculous ideas you can think of, this is—”
“Perfect. Besides,
