November
Saxvirdan, is a
small hamlet north of the town of St Pierre, made up of former labourer’s
cottages close to the remains of the old Roman fort site, Saxa Viridia
Castellum, which was of great interest to archaeologists and tourists alike.
It was a quiet
back water to someone like Gemma Ralph who was born and bred in London, her
brother called it the back end of beyond, but those who lived there liked it
well enough, even Gemma loved it despite the fact she’d had an argument with
her husband and was sleeping in the spare room.
As she slept,
her head was full of disturbing dreams of loss and loneliness interspersed with
stark warnings from her dead grandmother “Never go to sleep on an argument”
until she woke up in a panic, sweating profusely and panting hard.
She got up and
paced the room for five minutes before tiptoeing across the landing and slipped
beneath the duvet and cuddled up closely to Scott and drifted off into a
peaceful sleep.
But as the dawn
broke, her peace was disturbed, but this time, as she slept, her head was full
of erotic images and her sleep became restless and fitful, and her skin
tingled, and she kept licking her lips as the vivid images played in her head.
Her head rolled
from side to side and then she suddenly awoke from that erotic dreamland, with
a leer on her face.
So as the dawn
chorus chattered in the trees Gemma and Chris made up, and following her
disturbed night they both slept late.
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