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thought of Kim lying in his bed, all warm and sleepy, limbs spread out, ready and waiting for him. What if she left though? What if he got back and she wasn't there?
    The idea spurred him to put his foot on the accelerator and honk again at the sheep, who rushed off the track as if mortally insulted.
    It took nearly ha lf an hour to get to Pentrebach from his remote farmstead. How had she found him? It seemed so unlikely. He parked the jeep and ran through the rain to the little general store and post office at the heart of the village.
    "Morning, Rhys," said Olwen from behind the counter.
    Oh God. Olwen. He'd been banking on one of the interchangeable sulky teens of the village. Why had he come here? He should have driven on to the big supermarket in Brecon. Nobody would be peeking into his shopping basket there.
    He nodded at her and pretended to be heavily involved in the selection of tinned soups. He put two tins of different flavours in his basket, knowing he would never eat them, then edged closer to the chemist shelf. She was looking at him. He put in a pack of ibuprofen. Was there anything he actually needed, while he was here? Maybe another bottle of wine. He grabbed the first one he saw and added it to the basket.
    "Can you believe this weather?" said Olwen, putting a new till reel in the cash register.
    "The sheep can't believe it either," he said. Closer now, closer to the little cellophane-wrapped boxes on the top shelf.
    "Don't they hate having wet fleeces?"
    "Oh no, they're waterproof. It's the lanolin, see."
    He glanced over at her. She wasn't looking. Casually, he knocked two packs of condoms into the basket and covered them with an economy-sized bottle of shampoo.
    "Oh, right," she said vaguely, fiddling with the machine.
    He walked up to the counter, confidently, and put the basket down in front of her.
    She took out the shampoo first, then the wine, and then she looked back in and gave him the briefest but most unmistakable of surprised glances.
    He could see she was trying not to smile as she picked the first pack up and ran it twice through the scanner. Two packs. That would be good for village gossip. Not just a shag, then – a commitment . Farmer Rhys had a girlfriend. The next Young Farmers' barn dance should be interesting.
    "Actually, I don't want the soup," he said. "Or the tablets. I'll just take these, OK?"
    "If you're sure."
    The effort of pretending not to notice the condoms was telling on Olwen as she shovelle d everything into a plastic bag and told him how much he owed her.
    "Anything planned for the weekend?" she asked slyly, taking his twenty pound note.
    "Oh, you know. Depends on the weather."
    She nodded sagely. "Have to make our own entertainment, don't we, when it's like this?"
    She gave him his change.
    "Pretty much," he said, seizing the plastic bag. "Good morning."
    He kept his head high, moving through the narrow aisles as fast as he could.
    "Yes, I'm sure it is," said Olwen to his back. "For some of us."
    He saw a light in the kitchen when he parked in the yard and his stomach flipped at the thought that she was there, waiting for him. He picked up his plastic bag and ran, dodging bullets of rain, until he reached the back door.
    She stood at the sink, washing a cup and bowl, wearing only one of his shirts and that chunky sweater again. He wondered if she was wearing knickers and the thought that she probably wasn't, because she didn't have a clean pair, almost made his knees give way beneath him.
    "What a beautiful day," she said, turning to him with a beaming smile.
    He hung up his coat and crooked a finger at her.
    "Come here," he said. "Something's wrong with your mouth."
    "Oh? What?" She put her fingers to her lips, frowning as she walked over.
    "It needs a kiss," he said, grabbing hold of her and remedying the situation.
    She giggled and shrieked at first, but it took less than two seconds for her to sink, sighing, into his embrace, moulding her body against his. They were