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She looked down at the clothes that she'd been wearing all day at the practice. 'I need to change into something more suitable. Do you mind waiting a few moments?'

'No, not at all,' he assured her. He was dressed in casual clothes himself—trim-fitting jeans and a smart cotton shirt, with sensible shoes on his feet.

As she dashed upstairs with fast-beating heart, Fenella was telling herself that Max wouldn't be there if he didn't want to be with her.

'Will I do?' she asked when she came back down, dressed in jeans that were a tighter fit than his, and a cotton top that was bereft of sequins but was still showing a fair amount of smooth golden flesh.

She was entrancing, he thought. Fenella was beautiful but completely without guile. She was seeking his approval, rather than fishing for compliments.

'You most certainly will "do,"' he told her. Removing his gaze from the fast rise and fall of her breasts inside the cotton top, he took her hand and led her outside.

As they strolled along towards the hilltops, still holding hands, Max said, 'The police don't seem to be any nearer to finding out who killed that poor woman. But the pathologist will be examining the body far more thoroughly than I was able to do under the conditions that were present. There were some black hairs caught in her grasp that I presume will have gone for DNA testing.'

'Has she been identified?'

'Yes. She was with the travellers. A group of caravans arrived in one of the fields a few days ago. They appear each year, stay for a while, then move on. They're decent enough folk. We never have any trouble with them. This will have brought them great grief as they are a close-knit community. The woman's husband claims that she had gone into the woods, gathering plant specimens.'

They walked along in sombre silence for a few moments and then, wanting to lighten the atmosphere, Fenella said, 'Alice's cottage is just along the road. Shall we pay her a visit?' He rolled his eyes heavenwards. 'She's so lonely, Max.'

'All right,' he agreed. 'Never let it be said that we don't give our patients the full treatment.'

When she opened the door to them, Alice's greeting was typical. 'Two of you! What have you come for? I'm not poorly.'

'We know that, Alice,' Fenella told her, hiding a smile. 'Dr Hollister and I are out for a walk over the tops and I suggested that we call to see you.'

Alice almost managed a smile of her own, but not quite.

'So had I better put the kettle on?'

As Max began to shake his head Fenella forestalled him by saying brightly, 'A cup of tea would be lovely, Alice. Especially in one of your beautiful china cups.'

'I made a cake this morning. Would you like a piece?'

'We'd love one, wouldn't we, Max?'

'Absolutely,' he said. Leaving himself open to a long dialogue about her ailments, he added, ,'How are you, Alice?'

But this was a woman of few words. 'As good as I'm ever likely to be, I reckon,' she replied, and started making the tea.

'You'll have to see what the rheumatologist says. He should be able to help you.'

She nodded and looked in Fenella's direction. 'I have this young woman to thank for that. You've got yourself a top-notcher there. She has a way with her.'

'Yes, I know that,' he said smoothly, and took the cup and saucer from Alice's outstretched hand.

'Have they found out who killed that woman in the woods yet?' Alice wanted to know as they sat eating cake and drinking tea.

'Not yet,' Max told her. 'It could have been someone who is miles away by now. I hope you are keeping all your doors and windows locked.'

'What, and die from lack of fresh air? No way. But I'm being sensible. I wouldn't have opened the door to you folks if I hadn't seen you coming up the path. So you're off for a walk across the moors, then? I would have thought you saw enough of each other down there in the surgery.'

'We do,' Max told her. 'Tonight is a one-off. You aren't the only one who needs fresh air, Alice.' He was getting to his feet. 'Thanks for the tea and the delicious cake.'

'You're welcome, Dr Hollister and you, Fenella...any time. I don't get many visitors. That's why I'm not so good at the social graces.'

Fenella gave her a squeeze. 'A piece of your cake is more acceptable than polite chit-chat any day.'

'Yes, well, mind how you go, and keep away from those woods,' was the reply, and off they went, with Alice watching them from the open doorway until they were out of sight.

'That wasn't too bad, now, was it?' Fenella said as they continued upwards.

Max laughed. 'I don't know what you've done to Alice but you've got her eating out of your hand.'

'I like her. Behind her sour exterior beats a heart of gold.'

He was still amused. 'I'll take your word for it.'

'I noticed that you agreed with her that we see enough of each other at the surgery, without spending our free time together. Did you mean it?'

'Yes and no.'

'And what is that supposed to mean? Bear in mind you were the one who suggested we eat at The Falcon last night, and you were the one who suggested a walk over the moors tonight.'

Max was serious now.

'Agreed. And I'm the one who ought to have some sense when it comes to you, but for some reason I haven't.'

A large stone building had appeared on the skyline and, without giving her chance to reply, he said, 'That's Battersby's Farm Restaurant. We'll be passing it in a matter of minutes. I suggest that we go in and reserve a table for supper if that is all right with you.'

'Perfectly,' she told him serenely, and then her expression changed.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

They were passing a large field where cows were grazing peacefully. To one side of them, big, black and mean-looking, was a bull.

Fenella shuddered. 'I wouldn't like to meet that creature on a dark night. Or in the daylight, for that matter.'

'Who would?' Max agreed. 'This lot are Ed Battersby's herd of Friesian cattle, and he's always getting into trouble for letting Saracen, the big bull over there with the mean- looking horns, stray from the field.'

Fenella had come to a halt and he observed her questioningly.

'The bull,' she said slowly. 'You don't think that...'

'What?'

'It's a long shot, but it's quite possible that the bull could have come up from behind and butted the woman who was killed. That the injury to the back of her head was from its horns.'

Max regarded her for a few seconds, thinking intently. 'Of course,' he breathed. 'Why didn't I think of that before. Come on, Fenella. We need to find Ed Battersby.'

They found the farmer beside the barn, getting ready to' call it a day. As Max approached, with Fenella apprehensive beside him, he flashed them an uneasy smile.

'
Hello, there, Max,' he
said with false
chirpiness. 'What brings you here?'

'That bull of yours, Saracen,' he said levelly.

'Aye. What about him?'

'Has he been on the loose lately?'

'Naw.'

'Are you sure?' Max persisted.

'Why are you askin' ?' the farmer questioned, not meeting his gaze.

'I'm asking because a woman has been killed in the woods on the edge of this field. That's why I'm asking, Ed,' he told him tightly. 'The back of her head was in a terrible state, all gouged in and bleeding. And as we were passing your field it occurred to Dr Forbes that the killer might have four legs instead of two. The injuries I saw could have been made by the horns of a bull just as easily as from a weapon carried by a human.'

The farmer was shaking his head. 'Weren't nothin' to do with my bull,' he blustered.

'Fine,' Max told him. 'But while you're denying it, just bear this thought in mind. The police will be doing DNA tests on hairs that were caught up in the victim's hand, and if they prove to be animal instead of human, you'll be in big trouble.'

'I can't afford to lose my bull,' Ed said desperately. 'I would go bust without him.'

'Maybe so, but you are the only one who knows if he was loose yesterday. That poor woman couldn't afford to lose
her life,
yet she did. If you
do
know something about what happened, it is better to go to the police now.'

'Beryl will never forgive me,' he wailed. 'She's always telling me to get rid of Saracen and buy a less mean animal, but...'

'I'll give you twenty-four hours to go to the police,' Max told him grimly. 'After that I shall be contacting them myself.' And taking Fenella by the hand again, he led her away from the barn and out onto the road once more.

'I've lost my appetite,' she said weakly as they approached the farmhouse. 'Let's forget supper, Max. Do you really think that animal could be responsible for the woman's death? Wouldn't you have seen hoof prints at the scene?'

'I might have done if the ground had been just marshy, but there'd been heavy rain for a few hours and everywhere around and beneath her was just thick mud.'

'I thought that this was going to be a lovely evening,' she said disconsolately, 'but instead we've become involved in something horrible.'

'Police surgeon work is horrible,' Max said grimly. 'And you are a star. I can see you joining the ranks one day. The head injuries could have been made by the horns of a bull, and the long black hairs from around the jowls of the bull. If you are right, the one good thing to come out of it will be knowing that we haven't got a maniac lurking around the village. A mean bull, yes, but not a human murderer.'

They were walking past the car park of the farm restaurant and another blow to Fenella's hopes for the evening was about to fall.

'Max!' a voice called, and when they looked across, the auburn-haired Sonya was getting out of a sleek, open-topped sports car.

He sighed. 'I knew it had to come sooner or later, but not now.'

She was coming towards them, hands outstretched, a smile on her face, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he wasn't alone.

'Hello, Max,' she said in a soft, purring sort of voice. 'It's been a long time.' And flung her arms around him.

'Yes, it has, Sonya,' he said gravely.

Fenella expected that he would move out of her hold but he didn't. He patted her shoulder instead. Surely Max wasn't going to take the woman who dumped him under his wing, along with half the population, she thought frustratedly.

Sonya loosened her grip at last and he said, 'May I introduce Fenella—Dr Forbes?'

'I've seen you twice already, haven't I?' Sonya said. 'At the meeting the other night and this morning at the practice.'

'Yes, you have,' Fenella told her, with a feeling that she was in the way. 'I'm sure that you would both like to share your reunion in private, so I'll leave you to it.' Turning, she began to walk back the way they had come.

She'd had high hopes of their walk across the moors, but other aspects of Max's life had taken precedence over it. The police surgeon business for one thing, even though she'd been the one to make the suggestion, and now the appearance of Sonya.

Was she being ridiculous? she wondered. Probably, but it didn't stop her from feeling on the outside, a stranger looking in. Whatever Max's attitude towards the woman who had once held a special place in his life, the fact remained that Sonya had known him a lot longer than she had. The woman who had just flung herself into his arms would know everything about him, while she, Fenella, knew so little. She hadn't been in Max's life for very long and so shouldn't be upset at feeling like the onlooker, but the fact remained that she did.

On arriving back at the cottage, Fenella went straight to bed even though it was still daylight outside, and after gazing morosely up at the ceiling for what seemed an eternity fell into a sluggish sleep in which big black bulls were snorting at her bedroom door one moment, and the next they became Sonya, dashing across the car park at the Battersbys' place with arms outstretched.

She didn't hear her mother come in. The next thing Fenella knew was the cockerel at a farm lower down the hill crowing at daybreak, and the first light filtering through the window.

When her mother came down to breakfast she said, 'Max phoned just after I got in last night, wanting to talk to you, but you were asleep, so he said not to disturb you. What is it with you and him, Fenella? Are you in love with him?'

'Yes,' she admitted, 'for what good it's doing me.'

Ann was observing her anxiously as Fenella told her what had happened with Sonya. 'This is my last morning here, Fenella. I won't be able to settle in at Simon's place if I know that you are alone and unhappy.'

'I won't be unhappy, I promise,' Fenella told her, having no wish to put the blight on Simon's homecoming. 'I've got a job I love, a mother who is the best, and maybe one day I'll meet a man whose life doesn't veer off in as many directions as Max Hollister's.'

It had taken Max all his time not to groan out loud when Fenella had turned and gone back down the hill. He didn't blame her for being fed up, but he hadn't been able to thrust Sonya away from him after such a long absence.

He had long ago accepted her decision to call off the wedding, knowing that if she hadn't, he would have. He'd seen his responsibility towards Will as something he hadn't been able to ignore, and when she hadn't been ready to offer her support the end had been in sight.

It had hurt at the time, hurt a lot, losing his fiancée so soon after his parents. But Sonya had revealed that she possessed an inner core of selfishness, and as time had passed, with the practice to run and Will to care for, he'd had no lasting regrets.

But now, unbelievably, after seven years she was back and he had discovered as they'd talked over a drink in the bar of the farm restaurant that she was looking for a shoulder to cry on and would be happy to use his.

It seemed that while in the United States she'd married a wealthy American by the name of Blake Milhench and had set up home in Florida with him, but was now divorced and lonely.

'So you didn't have any children with him?' he'd questioned, and she'd shaken her head.