When the Mornington
Estate exercised its option to purchase Mornington Field from the MOD it also
acquired all the buildings and infrastructure on the airfield itself as well as
29 houses in the village formally used as quarters for military personnel.
Plans were immediately
drawn up to optimize the newly acquired assets the moment the property was
formally handed over on the 1st of June.
The guardians of the
estate were the St George family the head of which is Baron Gabriel St George.
His architect Scott
Collier was tasked with designing appropriate conversions to maximize the
potential returns, and Ray Walker
Who dealt with all
thing estate maintenance wise was responsible for getting the old Air force
housing stock occupied ASAP,
Ray worked tirelessly
to that end to have not just the first six houses ready within the month as
originally promised, but eight, which were handed over on the 6th of July, two
days earlier than forecast. .
Gabriel was then able
to instruct Lyndon-Sanders Properties of Shallowfield to find tenants.
Priority was to be
given to local people or people with ties to the area or those who worked in
some capacity for the estate such as agriculture and the brewery.
Other than that they
were to be rented with the only condition being that it had to be the tenant’s
primary residence.
Gabriel was always
conscious of creating a ghost town of professionals who live and work in Town
all week and only return to the village on the weekend.
One such person
was Alma Fuentes who was a physiotherapist at the Dancingdean Health Centre in
Shallowfield who worked out of the Mornington Surgery one day a week.
Alma lived at number 8
The Close and she was the only single occupancy, everyone else had a family or
a partner and children and she wanted that, she had always wanted that but now
she lived among so many children she wanted it even more.
She was a tiny Spanish
woman who looked like a breath of wind would blow her away but looks could be
very deceptive as she was as strong as an ox.
When she worked in
Shallowfield she would go across the road to the café for her lunch.
Paul Larkin sat
drinking black coffee alone in Addison’s café just killing some time and he
noticed her instantly as she entered, and he was powerless to resist the
movement of his eyes, as like magnets they were drawn towards the striking
young woman's and her stunning beauty, her hair appeared black as a raven's
wing as it caressed the dark caramel skin of her shoulders, but with the sun
shining through the fine strands they betrayed its true brunette nature.
But out of the sun her
hairs dark lustre framed the simple beauty of her face, which he studied as he
took another sip.
Firstly her full lips quivered and then broadened into a smile, as he admired
the delicate curve of her small nose and the hypnotic depth of her dark brown
eyes, which looked back at him and held his gaze, and as if reading his
thoughts they burned through him and touched his soul.
Alma was distracted momentarily so his eyes wandered the soft brown nakedness
of her neck and shoulders and then he met her eyes again and her smile
broadened and her cheeks flushed.
As she sat down at an
adjacent table his gaze once more returned to her face and Alma smiled.
That was the last time
they sat on separate tables because the next day he joined her and bought her
coffee and they talked and laughed, then drank more coffee and talked and
laughed some more.
His eyes still took
every opportunity to peruse her sweet face when he wasn’t held captive by her
Spanish eyes.
Six months passed and
love blossomed and grew between them and then came the day when her dark eyes,
sultry and steamy flashed him a side ward’s glance from beneath the white lace
of her veil and in return he gave her a more appraising look altogether,
focusing on the curvaceous figure beneath her conservative wedding dress.
Her eyes flashed up
again, a lingering languid glance which spoke volumes of her being very much a
woman and not the putative girl her parents would have her be still.
She was the centre of his admiration, and he was hers as they saw recognition
in each other’s eyes, no words were spoken, everything was intuit and with
amative study and libidinous perusal, the girl was his object of pulchritude
and he was her beloved swain.
All at once they had
to come back to the moment and the spell was broken momentarily and they had to
turn their attention to the Vicar until the moment when after their union, he
would look into the eyes of the young woman behind the white lace veil as they
stood on the steps of St Winifred’s church.
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