Called to the English countryside to help a friend living on the beautiful Blackwood Manor Estate, Maiya is drawn into a rivalry involving more than one type of stud.
Over the brow, the lane narrowed to one car wide. Brambles whipped and thrashed the Beetle as it whirred along following a central trail of lush green moss. Every now and then a gap in the hedgerow afforded a glimpse out over folding pastures, increasingly populated in true parkland elegance with majestic oaks. Blackwood Manor and its vast estate had begun revealing its presence upon the landscape. The lane dipped into a wooded valley. Sunlight switched to shade and with fond recognition Maiya saw the little red postbox peeping through a congregation of nettles. The rickety sign for Home Farm hung from the branch above.
The smell of burnt toast and sizzling bacon greeted Maiya at the back door.
'Morning my sweetie.' Emmy squeezed her into a tight hug. 'Pull up a pew.' She held an egg poised to be cracked. 'Scrambled or fried?'
'Ooh, fried please.' Maiya's stomach growled in accord.
'Tea or something with a kick?'
