Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (48) A Man to be Trusted

 

Downshire is a relatively small English county, but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring, Tipton in the North but it’s in Nettlefield where our story begins.

 

“Take care of her?” Maria Wegener said to him as he opened the driver’s car door.

“Will do boss” Martin replied giving his passenger a wry smile as he got behind the wheel.

“I’m not a child,” Clare shouted petulantly out of the open window “and I don’t need babysitting”

It was certainly true to say that Clare Wegener was not a child, far from it.

No one who ever saw the 25 years old would ever have described her as such, childish, possibly, immature certainly, but not a child.

After all Clare stood an inch short of six feet tall which was evidence of adulthood in itself but if that didn’t convince you then her long legs, voluminous rolling hips and a 44” bust would.

No, Clare was not a child, but her mother, as mothers always do, would always see her thus. 

But Maria Wegener wasn’t merely Clare’s mother she was also her employer.

For a hundred years Wegener brothers had bought and sold Antiques and collectables, a business that Maria Logan married into and Clare was born into and the former was now the head of the family the latter was going on her first solo-buying trip, a week-long trip.

Even though technically she wasn’t going solo and it would have been her maiden trip but for the fact that Martin Bailey was sent with her as a babysitter.

Martin had been with the Wegener’s since he left school and he was greatly trusted by Maria and as he was in his early forties and unremarkable looking and was to all and sundry average in all respects she trusted there would be no shenanigans.

Suffice is to say Maria trusted her precious daughter was in safe hands with her faithful retainer Martin Bailey. 

 

They left the shop and headed south through the Pepperstock Hills National Park which stretched from the bare, and often barren crags of Oxley Ridge in the North to the dense wooded southern slopes on the fringe of the Finchbottom Vale, and from Quarry Hill, and the Pits in the West to Pepperstock Bay in the East.

The park is an area of stark contrasts and attracted a variety of visitors.

The quarry hill side of the park to the west, as the name suggests, was heavily Quarried over several hundred years, though more extensively during the industrial revolution, the Quarries had been un-worked for over fifty years and nature had reclaimed them and former pits had become lakes and were very popular with anglers and the sparse shrubbery and woodland made it popular spot with courting couples whereas the northern crags and fells were popular with climbers and more hardy folk.

To the south and east was an extensive tract of magnificent mixed forestry and was rivaled only by the ancient woodland of the Dancingdean Forest, but for Martin and Clare weren’t really taking it in.

 

On the journey from Northern Downshire all the way down through the Pepperstock Hills National Park on their way to Finchbottom, Clare was still berating Martin on her mother’s distrust of her.

“It’s not that she doesn’t trust you,” He said for the tenth time.

“She doesn’t seem to realise that I’m a grown woman,” she continued

“We are all aware you are a grown woman” Martin said and after pause added

“Well aware”

Clare looked at him and raised her eye brows

“So what have you noticed?” she asked with amusement and

Martin blushed to his roots under her gaze

“Nnnnothing” he stammered

“Come on Martin” she pressed

“Just that I have noticed that you are no longer a child” he replied

The rest of the journey passed largely in silence with Clare admiring the countryside while occasionally sneaking glances at her driver.

 

Clare had always been in love with Martin Bailey or at least since she became a woman, which in her case was at the age of 13.

Which coincided with Martin having the task of driving her to school adding to his list of duties.

She fell instantly and irrevocably in love with him despite the age difference, not that she did anything about it and he had always behaved like a perfect gentleman, treated her with respect and spoke to her as an equal, all of which made her love him even more.

But she continued to hold a candle for him right up to the moment he let it slip that he had noticed her, as a grown woman, and was well aware of her being a grown woman.

She took that as a sign that her feeling might after all be reciprocated, and that gave her food for thought as they approached the Finchbottom Vale.  

The Vale nestled comfortably between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest to the south and the rolling Pepperstock Hills in the north, and those who are lucky enough to live there think of it as the rose between two thorns.

The Vale was once a great wetland that centuries earlier stretched from Mornington in the East to Childean in the west and from but over the many centuries the vast majority had been drained for agriculture, a feat achieved largely by the efforts of the famous Mornington Mills, of which only three had survived to the present day and even those were no longer functional and were in various states of repair, the result of the reclamation of the Vale was a large and sparsely populated area, and it was in that area that they had planned to cover on Clare’s first buying trip.

But as they drove into Finchbottom antiques and collectables were the farthest thing from her mind.

 

When she first fell for him she was grown up enough to assume it was just a crush and she would soon grow out of it, but she was wrong, her feelings did change of that there was no mistake, but they didn’t fade instead they matured as she did.    

 

On the first night of Clare’s maiden buying trip they stopped at the White Horse Inn in Finchbottom and spent the evening in the restaurant where Clare proceeded to drink more than was good for her.

Martin thought she had been in a really strange mood since the journey down and all evening she had kept looking at him in a funny way. 

But not only was Clare drinking too much, she was flirting and he had never seen her do that before, and he couldn’t let it continue.

If he did, her mother would not consider that “Taking care of her”

“Come on party girl” he said “bedtime”

“Oh goody” she said draining her glass

 

Accompanied by outrageous flirting and downright suggestive behaviour Martin steered her up the stairs

“Up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire” he said and when they reached the top he headed towards her room at the end of the corridor.

When they got to her door Clare announced

“Honey! I’m home”

Martin propped her against the doorframe as he unlocked the door and she began kissing his neck.

“Behave yourself” he said and gave her a playful slap on her bum.

“Oooh are you going to spank me Martin?” she asked

“Get in there young lady” he said and guided her through the door

“I love it when you’re all masterful” Clare responded and wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him.

Martin managed to avoid her lips at the last second as the door slammed shut behind them and they performed a strange ungracious waltz into the room.

“Here we are young lady,” he said as he prepared to lower her onto the bed

“Bedfordshire” Clare said gleefully, and then her head began to spin and she passed out.

Martin managed to catch her before she hit the floor and laid her gently on the bed like a precious cargo, which to his mind she was, in he thought her the most precious thing imaginable.

He carefully slipped off her shoes and then covered her with blanket and she murmured

“I really love you Martin”

“And I love you too my angel” he replied and pulled up a chair and sat beside her bed.

 

His love for her had not begun when hers had for him, at least not romantic love, up until she was seventeen his love was a mixture of fraternal and paternal, but midway through her seventeenth year he fell for her hard and he had never recovered from that fall.

Which was why he sat in an uncomfortable armchair at the bedside of the intoxicated and intoxicating love of his life.

But as he sat there watching her sleep he reran the moment of her declaration of love in his mind over and over again and he could scarcely believe it had happened.

He had never imagined in his wildest dreams that she would ever say those words, “I really love you Martin”

Even if it was because she was drunk that she said them, she had said them.

And if the next morning she retracted her declaration and laughed it off, the fact would still remain that she had said it and in his experience thing said while in your cups were normally truthful, unguarded and indiscreet certainly, but nonetheless true.

And if things returned to the way they were for the sake of propriety he would be content because he knew his love was returned.

 

The next morning Martin woke up in the uncomfortable armchair next to Clare’s bed and stretched out his aching muscles.

He hadn’t slept well, but that wasn’t altogether the fault of the chair.

It was mainly his racing thoughts that robbed him of his rest, thoughts of love and hope.

The unexpected development of a beautiful young woman being in love with him, but then he began to question the evidence of his own ears.

“I really love you Martin” suddenly became “I really love you Martin, like a father, or “I really love you Martin as a friend”

He got up from his chair and walked across the room and switched on the kettle.

 

After making the drinks he put his coffee and her tea down on the bedside table and returned to the seat of his angst and after another five minutes of reflection he decided he should say nothing and wait to see what developed he could always broach the subject in the car if she was not forthcoming.

Before he had the opportunity to reconsider Clare began to stir.

He watched as her eyes opened and she tried to get her bearings, why was she in a strange room? And he saw her face relax as she recalled that she was in a hotel.

Then she turned her eyes towards Martin who smiled and said

“Good morning sunshine”

“Have you been there all night?” she asked groggily

“Yes”

“Why?”

“Because I was worried about you” he replied

“Oh” she said and then looked pensive

“Did I do or say anything embarrassing last night?”

“Well I don’t know, how do you define embarrassing?”

“Out of character stuff” she responded after a moment’s thought

“Well you got very drunk and passed out, that’s quite embarrassing” he replied

“Is that all?” she asked hopefully

“You were very flirtatious” he said

“Who with?” she asked from behind her hands

“Me mainly”

“What else?” she demanded

“Well you did ask me to spank you, and you wanted me to be masterful” he said with a smile “Oh and then you tried to kiss me”

“Oh God what happened?”

“You passed out” he replied

“So that was all?”

“Not quite” he replied enigmatically and finished his coffee and stood up

“I need to get ready”

“No don’t go yet…” she began and then lifted her head off the pillow “Ow”

“Oh dear” he said when he looked at the pain on her face

“Tell me what else I did” she begged

“I’ll give you a clue” he offered “it wasn’t what you did so much as what you said”

“What does that even mean?” she asked and sank down into her pillow

“I’ll see you at breakfast” Martin said and slipped out of the room

 

After a quick shower and a shave Martin and went downstairs for a full English breakfast and was on his second cup of coffee when Clare put in an appearance, looking very pale and wearing dark glasses.

“Hello sunshine” he said “do you want some breakfast?”

“Just coffee”

 

When the waitress had brought her coffee Martin asked

“Have you remembered yet?”

 “No” she confessed “what it really bad?”

“I’m not telling you” he retorted

“But why?” she asked “Oh God it was really bad wasn’t it?”

“Not necessarily” he replied enigmatically “it depends on your point of view”

“Oh please tell me” she said pathetically “Put me out of my misery”

“I’m sure it will come back to you on the journey” he said “Come on time to go”

 

Once they had checked out they had plenty of time before their first appointment so they took a leisurely drive from Finchbottom to Highfinch which Clare spent with her eyes shut although Martin wasn’t sure if it was because she was suffering or she was still embarrassed.

 

After concluding their business in Highfinch and nearby Kingfisherbridge it was close to lunchtime and as it was such a lovely day they decided to take their lunch at one of the local sights before we headed on towards the Dulcets.

They both agreed on Pepperstock Castle as it was on the way they were headed.

“I haven’t been there for years” Clare said “not since junior school”

“Nor me” Martin agreed

“Yes but they were still building it when you were at school”

Clare said and laughed raucously, a little too raucously as she winced and held her head

“That will teach you” he said 

 

Pepperstock Castle had once been an imposing sight up on its hill overlooking the eastern end of the Vale though now it was just a collection of ruins, which could still be clearly identified as having once been a Castle, but ruins nonetheless.

While they sat on the huge stones and finished eating sandwiches Clare once again pressed him for the information he refused to give her that morning.

“You can tell me now”

“Oh I don’t think so” he retorted “you need to try and remember it yourself”

“But I can’t” she snapped

“There’s no such word as cant” he replied “Come on let’s get going”

“I used to like you” she shouted after him

“Ah now that’s a clue” he said

“What?” Clare said trotting after him “what does that mean, what’s a clue?”

 

After Pepperstock Castle they took the scenic route through the densely wooden hills that formed the natural border between the Pepperstock Nation Park and the Finchbottom Vale.

Clare continued to pester him all the way to their next port of call which was Brocklington and again when they drove on to the Dulcets which were a collection of villages and hamlets comprising of Dulcet Meadow, Dulcet St Mary, Dulcet Green and Dulcet-on-Brooke, to name but a few, and of course their destination, Dulcet-on-Willow which was a large sprawling village beside the gentle shallow River Willow, which ran unhurriedly from the Pepperstock Hills to the more vibrant River Brooke.

It was an exceptionally fruitful visit and they had secured some very good items but they spent much longer in Dulcet-on-Willow than they had planned so they decided to head towards the Hotel they were booked into and then complete their business in the Dulcets on the way back.

 

Their destination after leaving the Dulcets was the Seaview Hotel in Sharpington where they would be spending the next two night.

Martin was spread any further pestering as Clare fell asleep before they even left the village.

Which gave him time to think about whether or not to tell Clare what she said to him the night before.

 

Sharpington-by-Sea is a traditional seaside resort complete with a Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, The Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park.

Which was the first purpose built amusement park to open in Britain, which had an assortment of rides, like the Rotor and the Wild Mouse, The Cyclone and the Morehouse Galloper, all very tame compared to a 21^st century roller coaster but was still great fun.

Martin spent many happy summer holidays in Sharpington when he was a child when the whole family went away together.

He loved the town and he always looked forward to his visits.

 

He parked on the promenade and gently woke Clare

“Wake up sleepy head, we’ve arrived”

“Already?” she asked and yawned

“Come on get a wriggle on and I’ll buy you an ice cream” he said, he knew if anything was going to get her moving it was an ice cream, and he was right because she was out of the car like a shot.

 

He managed to park on the Southern side of the pier about a hundred yards along the promenade.

“I thought we could enjoy the sights for an hour before we check in, we’re a bit away from the pier but we can jump on the bus if you want” he suggested

“I think I’d like to walk” Clare said “I’m in no hurry”

“Nor am I” he said “and it’s such a beautiful day”

They walked along the promenade with a gentle breeze blowing off the sea and reminisced about the times they had been to the seaside when they were little and they both talked about the places in the town that held special memories for them.

The Ghost Train in the Fun Park, Sharpington Day Parades, Halloween Fright Nights, Firework displays, Candy Floss, sand castles, paddling in the sea and of course Bizzoni’s Ice Cream Parlour on the Pier.

 

A visit to Bizzoni’s Ice Cream Parlour was a must, it just wasn’t possible to go to Sharpington and not sample their homemade ices.

Clare had a rather extravagant chocabockerglory while Martin went for a more restrained Raspberry ripple.

When they had eaten their ice creams they walked along the pier and they talked all the way.

But almost inevitably the conversation turned to the events of the night before.

“You still don’t remember?” he asked as they reached the end of the pier

“No” she replied pathetically

“Oh well never mind it’s clearly not important” he said matter of factly

“It was clearly just the alcohol talking”

“No, no it is important, you have to tell me” she said with alarm “I have to know”

“Well I’m not going to tell you” he said and then halted her protest by adding “But I will try and help you remember”

“Oh ok” she said barely able to hide her disappointment

 “So what do you remember?”

“I remember a lot of wine” she said “and I may have flirted a bit”

Martin raised an eyebrow in response so she added

“Ok I flirted a lot”

“Then when the wine was almost gone you said “Come on party girl, bedtime” and I said something but I can’t remember what”

““Oh goody” was what you said and you drained your glass” he corrected her

“And then I walked up the stairs” she said

“Well actually I had to steer you up the stairs accompanied by outrageous flirting and downright suggestive behaviour” Martin pointed out

“Up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire” she said “That was what you said”

“That’s right” he said “is it coming back to you?”

“Yes and I remember saying “Honey! I’m home” when we reached the door to my room”

“I had to prop you against the doorframe while I unlocked the door and you began kissing my neck” he said

“And you told me to behave and then you smacked my bum” she continued “and I asked if you were going to spank me”

“And then what?”

“You said “Get in there young lady” she said imitating his gruff voice

“I love it when you’re all masterful” Martin retaliated in a high pitched retort.

“Which was when you wrapped your arms around my neck and tried to kiss me” Martin began

“But you didn’t let me” she said with a furrowed brow “and then it gets a bit hazy”

“Well I got you into the room and you said “Bedfordshire” and passed out” he said “then I laid you on the bed, took off your shoes and covered you with a blanket and you opened your eyes and said….”

Clare was looking at him intently as he spoke and when he paused her eyes were suddenly wide open

“I said I loved you, oh God I said “I really love you Martin” she said and blushed

“I’m so sor….” She began but closed her eyes in concentration and after a few moments she opened her eyes and looked straight at him

“Wait a minute, there was more, you said that you loved me too, didn’t you”

“I did” he confirmed

“You said “And I love you too my angel”” Clare said triumphantly

“I’m your angel?”

“Always” he replied and Clare kissed him and he kissed her back.

 

The next morning they woke up together again only this time Clare wasn’t hungover and Martin hadn’t slept in an uncomfortable armchair.

They were in each other’s arms beneath the duvet in Martins bed,

“I’m not sure if this is what your mum had in mind when she said “Take care of her”” Martin said

“It’s what I had in mind” she said