DON'T OWN OUR GIRL-It'S BBC AND ALL THAT SHITE!

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The rolling hills and the valleys.

Molly Smith stood in the muddy field and watched as the horse pulled the plough across the ridge.

She sighed and looked up to the gunmetal sky and shook her head, she looked down to her hands and saw that they were dry and they were cracked and they were weathered.

It was the second year of her marriage to Dylan. Dylan bless him tried his damned Welsh best to make her happy and she was...sometimes.

She looked up and sees him bark orders to the stubborn horse. Dumb animal was going side ways making the furrow line in the soil go scuewithe.

She turned around and looked down to the...ermm...shack that was their home. It was thatched and it was warm but it wasn't London.

"Why am I doing this...", she whispered to the breeze.

But it was a question she asked out loud quite often. She turned around and saw Dylan coming towards her waving his arms at her.

"Are you deaf? I was calling you woman"

Molly snapped out at him, "DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

Dylan rolled his eyes, his arms were caked in thick mud, "Ohhhh not this Molls...we haven't got time lass...please...we've gotta do this today or we won't be finished in time"

Molly nodded and she helped him manouver the horse. She had tears in her eyes because she hated all this, she fell to her knees in the mud and she cried.

Dylan tugged at the horse and the plough was a hairs breath away from running her over.

"MOLLY! What are you doing"

She pushed her dank hair out of her face and looked up at him.

"I can't do this no more...I've had enough...I've had enough"

Dylan watched her get to her feet and cleared her throat, "I'm going back down to the house...I can't do no more today"

Dylan laughed at her, "So yous are gonna leave me to do all this myself are you?"

Molly didn't respond, she she was too damned tired. She turned around and squelched off in the mud and went down the hill, Dylan threw his hands into the air in dispair and went to finish the work.

XXX

Molly had stoked up the fire and set the table by the time Dylan came in and washed the mud from his arms and hands in the tin bowl that was near the back door.

She pointed to the aga, "I have tea on...I've done more for you than me...you deserve it with all the hard work you put in"

Dylan removed his boots and shook his head and sat down at the table, Molly served up the Welsh stew, and it at least it put a smile back on his face.

"You are getting better than Mum at this"

Molly smiled at him as she poured some into her bowl, "I try"

She sat down and she was about to eat when he put his hand onto her arm stopping her, she looked up and met his gaze over the burning candle on the table, "...I wish I could make you happy...I try too... even the times you are thinking of him..."

Molly swallowed.

Dylan took in a deep breath and said, "I'm putting you on a train to London tomorrow...I know you are missing your Mum and Dad and that...and it's been a while since they visited...I think you need a break"

Molly smiled...the relief was washing over her like a shower.

Dylan could see the weight drain off her and continued to eat...

XXX

Molly could hear Dylan singing some rubbish Welsh song in the tin bath. She went to the drawer beside the bed and sat down reading the letter from her dear old Nan, what she had read in a newspaper in London.

The gentry were returning from British India. A lot of them. She looked up and smiled to herself...she wondered whether she could remember the way to Somerset...the way to him...

IF he was back of course...

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