The lovely young Eleanor is a pretty young woman, a sweet dusky maiden with luscious skin the shade of molten chocolate with an exotic scent that makes your head spin and your pulse race, leaving you dizzy with delight.
Her sweet Angelic face, is heavenly framed with rich soft curls,
as black as jet and shiny like a raven’s wing.
She looks at you with soulful eyes, warm and inviting which are brown like burnt sugar and possess a hypnotic quality.
Her exquisite nose is small and button like and is the perfect punctuation for her demerara lips, which are softly moist and wear a constant smile playing around them until she unleashes a full-bodied beam and her whole face lights up, bright enough to dazzle a star and making her dark eyes seductively beguiling.
Unintentionally coy and unambiguously sweet, elegant young Eleanor moves gracefully like a cat, while remaining playful as a kitten.
She is delicately limbed and is lithe and lissom with dainty hands and her feet are small like those of a child.
She holds her head high with assurance and confidence on her swan like neck which sits symmetrically on sculptured shoulders atop a sleek slender frame, possessed of a tiny waist and narrow hips.
Her small round buttocks are almost like a boys, and her breasts sit in perfect parity. Unimaginably she seems completely unaware of her allure and oblivious to her beauty and the effect she has on men and women alike.
Sceptical of any appeal, incredible as it may seem she doesn’t see the woman she has become or the woman she has been for many months.
She has come of age and is to all intents and purposes at ease with herself and she is in no hurry to squander her innocence, and her virginity will not be lost casually to someone undeserving.
But perhaps the most wondrous thing about the lovely young Eleanor is that she will not recognise herself from this description of her and she will think it refers to a stranger, which all adds to the wonderful whole that she is and making her all the more desirable for it.
Sunday, 4 June 2017
Mornington-By-Mere – (72) The Rustic Stile
The Smiths were tenants at Smithfield Farm and had been since the 19th century and 77 year old Sydney Smith was the head of the Smith Clan at the time Mornington Field was returned back to the ownership of the Mornington Estate but the Smiths didn’t regain the farmland they lost when it was compulsory purchased by the War Department in 1914, but despite that the family had thrived and the farm was providing them with a good living.
Sydney had been married to Mary for 55 years and it all began where the public right of way crossed Smithfield farmland via a Stile on the boundary between the farm and the lane.
The rustic stile still stands sentinel, marking that special place where the fates conspired to ensure that the soul mates should meet.
They were purposely treading opposing paths when they met at that rustic spot.
Sydney Smith was heading back towards the farm from the top twenty acre field with his brother and Mary Watson and a friend were taking a short cut to Apple Gate Farm where they were stable girls.
Mary reached the stile first and Sydney helped her cross by taking her hand, which was small and silken soft, guiding her safely to his side, and despite the presence of each other’s companions, they were to all intents and purposes quite alone, and in those moments when hand touched hand they at once beheld their lives from that point on would be forever altered and were content with that destiny.
The following year they were married in the Village at St Winifred’s Church and every year they celebrated two anniversary’s, the first one was of their wedding and the second anniversary, in many ways more important, was of their first meeting at the rustic stile which stands like a monument to mark the place of alteration, a significant place, a spiritual place often revisited and on such sojourns they would find renewal as the energizing memory of that special life changing moment, And assailing their senses, essentially invigorating, like imbibing the waters from the fountain of youth and their hearts would once again resound with joyousness and sweet moments of romance.
Those excited tingles of loves first passion, when hearts beat faster and desire courses through every fibre, the thrill of blossoming love adding to the strata of their love laid down through all their years together and by returning to the place of loves wondrous inception they keep their love alive, and in equal measure love returns the favour.
Sydney had been married to Mary for 55 years and it all began where the public right of way crossed Smithfield farmland via a Stile on the boundary between the farm and the lane.
The rustic stile still stands sentinel, marking that special place where the fates conspired to ensure that the soul mates should meet.
They were purposely treading opposing paths when they met at that rustic spot.
Sydney Smith was heading back towards the farm from the top twenty acre field with his brother and Mary Watson and a friend were taking a short cut to Apple Gate Farm where they were stable girls.
Mary reached the stile first and Sydney helped her cross by taking her hand, which was small and silken soft, guiding her safely to his side, and despite the presence of each other’s companions, they were to all intents and purposes quite alone, and in those moments when hand touched hand they at once beheld their lives from that point on would be forever altered and were content with that destiny.
The following year they were married in the Village at St Winifred’s Church and every year they celebrated two anniversary’s, the first one was of their wedding and the second anniversary, in many ways more important, was of their first meeting at the rustic stile which stands like a monument to mark the place of alteration, a significant place, a spiritual place often revisited and on such sojourns they would find renewal as the energizing memory of that special life changing moment, And assailing their senses, essentially invigorating, like imbibing the waters from the fountain of youth and their hearts would once again resound with joyousness and sweet moments of romance.
Those excited tingles of loves first passion, when hearts beat faster and desire courses through every fibre, the thrill of blossoming love adding to the strata of their love laid down through all their years together and by returning to the place of loves wondrous inception they keep their love alive, and in equal measure love returns the favour.
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (72) Christmas Party Girls
Steve Danone hated office parties, but at Cooper, Brandon and Holland Accountants in Shallowfield, it was an annual ritual that apparently had to be endured.
The reason he didn’t like them was that all the really nice girls turned out to have no taste in men whatsoever, the plain homely looking ones turned out to be total sluts, the friendly ones got all bitter and depressed and the outgoing bubbly ones just got falling down drunk.
And it was worse that year in particular because there was one girl that he particularly fancied, Carol Herd, and he really didn’t want to see what became of her after a few drinks so he went across the street to the Plough for a couple of hours and when he returned the party was over.
There were one or two revellers remaining, a middle-aged man called David was unconscious at his desk, a girl called Ellie from accounts was throwing up in her waste bin and a plain looking woman from legal called Dorcas was spread-eagled across the conference room table singing “O Holy Night”.
And the only thing about the scene that surprised him was that she was the senior partner.
“Same old, same old” he said as he returned to his office where he found Carol Herd sitting in his leather chair behind his desk.
“I think you are in the wrong office,” he said thinking she was drunk but she stood up and walked towards him
“Oh I don’t believe I am” she said, stone cold sober “Especially now that you’ve finally got here”
The reason he didn’t like them was that all the really nice girls turned out to have no taste in men whatsoever, the plain homely looking ones turned out to be total sluts, the friendly ones got all bitter and depressed and the outgoing bubbly ones just got falling down drunk.
And it was worse that year in particular because there was one girl that he particularly fancied, Carol Herd, and he really didn’t want to see what became of her after a few drinks so he went across the street to the Plough for a couple of hours and when he returned the party was over.
There were one or two revellers remaining, a middle-aged man called David was unconscious at his desk, a girl called Ellie from accounts was throwing up in her waste bin and a plain looking woman from legal called Dorcas was spread-eagled across the conference room table singing “O Holy Night”.
And the only thing about the scene that surprised him was that she was the senior partner.
“Same old, same old” he said as he returned to his office where he found Carol Herd sitting in his leather chair behind his desk.
“I think you are in the wrong office,” he said thinking she was drunk but she stood up and walked towards him
“Oh I don’t believe I am” she said, stone cold sober “Especially now that you’ve finally got here”
Downshire Diary – (71) Heatherlands – Doctor in Love
(Part 01)
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 and Tipton in the north but our story begins slightly further south equidistant between Nettlefield and the Oxley’s, in the beautiful village of Heathervale.
When Chris Palmer moved to Nettlefield from Purplemere following a very acrimonious divorce he had sworn off women for good.
But he was a relatively good looking man who was fast approaching his 40th birthday, with a good physique and short sandy hair, greying at the temples and was possessed of piercing blue eyes, so he didn’t go unnoticed.
His reason for moving to Nettlefield in particular, over all the other places he might have chosen either in Downshire or beyond, was the Heatherlands District Health Centre.
It was a large practise that serviced a large area, covering Nettlefield itself, Oxley Green, Heathervale, Oxley Ridge and Tipton and Chris had been fortunate enough to land the job as practice manager and he also found himself a nice little flat in Nettlefield.
The senior partner, and Chris’s boss, at the Health Centre was Dr Clarisse Lowe, a tall statuesque woman who dressed in tweed, with Chestnut hair, a voluptuous figure, lovely long legs and a generous frontage, who was in her mid-forties and was just the kind of woman Chris would have fallen for in his previous life.
Clarisse had been married to Edward Lowe, who had been an eminent surgeon in Downshire, he had also been twenty years older when he married her and he had two children from his first marriage, Josie being the oldest.
The marriage was a happy one but only lasted five years because Edward died suddenly on the Tipton Twelve Trees Golf course after suffering a heart attack.
She had been a widow for 10 years when Chris arrived in her life, her widowhood had left her lonely but also afraid of risking her heart on someone who might end that loneliness
But apart from the fact that she had vowed not to risk her broken heart again she also had instigated a policy at the practise forbidding fraternisation between members of staff, so even if she were so inclined toward Chris she wouldn’t be disposed to go against her own edict.
But the heart wants what the heart wants which was why two people who despite their reluctance to expose themselves to love again and who were very definitely not looking for a relationship, let alone love, found it anyway.
And as a by-product of the loving relationship she scrapped the “No Fraternizing policy” which meant that the surgical gloves were off in regard to work place relationships.
(Part 02)
As a bi-product of the loving relationship she began with Chris, Clarisse scrapped the “No Fraternizing policy” which meant that the surgical gloves were off in regard to work place relationships which was just what the doctor ordered for a lot of the staff, but for doctors
Tony Dark and Denise Guilford it made no difference at all because they had been romantically involved for two years.
The scrapping of the relationship ban should have given them the green light to come out of the closet but the simple truth was that they rather liked the closet, they enjoyed the sneaking around.
When they were around other people at the health centre they were cold and aloof, but in private they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, so whenever an opportunity to enjoy some intimacy presented itself they grabbed it with both hands.
And from the first moment when Denise made the decision to seduce Tony it opened up a whole new world of sensual pleasure, dirty, lustful, naked pleasure.
They both loved the excitement of sneaking around and it made them very aroused and they had to indulge themselves wherever they could.
Sometimes they did it in his house, occasionally in hers, at times they met at hotels and from time to time they did it at the surgery and even on occasion in her car, but never in his as it was far too small.
However as time went on their appetite for spending time together grew exponentially so at The Heatherlands District Health Centre staff Christmas Party which was held at The Foothills Hotel in Oxley Ridge, they made a decision.
They had found it tortuous during the party, not to be able to hold each other’s hand, as they often did when they were together, or dance together on the dancefloor.
They had to maintain the cold and aloof stance that typified the relationship they allowed people to see.
But later that night after he had sneaked into her room they lay huddled beneath the duvet in the afterglow and hatched a plan for their perfect Christmas.
Both Denise and Tony were from the southern end of the county, she was from Abbottsford while he came from Sharpington and they both had family remaining there, and further more they were expected for Christmas.
However as part of their plan they told their respective families that they were on call over Christmas, it was a real shame but they had drawn the short straw so they would have to miss out on the festivities.
They weren’t on call obviously and they were going to have their own festivities and the location they chose was a cottage in the Hamlet of Oxspike on the edge of The Pepperstock Hills National Park.
The reason that the couple chose that particular getaway destination was four fold, firstly they would be alone, second there was no chance of seeing anyone they knew, thirdly the nearest neighbour was half a mile away and lastly because Oxspike was high up in the crags of the park they often got snow up there and Denise and Tony wanted a white Christmas to make everything perfect.
(Part 03)
The Pepperstock Hills National Park 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.
It 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 the 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.
Denise and Tony had booked Pike’s Farm Cottage from the 23rd of December to the 27th, so it was a cold miserable Friday morning when Tony picked Denise up in a quiet corner of the car park of the Nettlefield branch of Stephenson Supermarket.
A mixture of rain and sleet peppered the windscreen as they left the car park and headed towards their Christmas getaway, half an hour later the rain and sleet had turned to snow and they were jubilant that they were in for a white Christmas but by the time they reached Oxley Ridge they were in a blizzard and they were less euphoric.
The roads were barely visible in places the higher they climbed and Tony had to drive very gingerly along the exposed stretches, but after ten minutes they got lucky when a Land Rover pulled onto the road ahead of them so he got in its tracks and followed it for the next four miles and then just as they were beginning to feel comfortable, disaster struck twice in quick succession firstly when the Land Rover turned off and then seconds later the car heater stopped working.
So they pressed on with caution as they were less than four miles from their destination but as a result two of those miles took almost an hour to cover.
But when they were within striking distance of the cottage Tony got a bit cocky and lost control on the final bend and spun the car and went arse end first into a snow bank.
He tried to drive out of it but to no avail and resigned himself to the fact that they would have to walk the last half a mile.
“it looks like we’re walking from here” he said and got out of the car and the wind cut through his thin clothing like it wasn’t there but he quickly got his coat on and went to the back of the car where he found the boot staved in and he was unable to open it.
“Shit” he said and had to go in the back of the car to put the seats down to retrieve the luggage.
(Part 04)
He tried to drive out of it but to no avail and resigned himself to the fact that they would have to walk the last half a mile.
“it looks like we’re walking from here” he said and got out of the car and the wind cut through his thin clothing like it wasn’t there but he quickly got his coat on and went to the back of the car where he found the boot staved in and he was unable to open it.
“Shit” he said and had to go in the back of the car to put the seats down to retrieve the luggage.
Once he had the bags out he noticed that Denise was still sat in the passenger seat.
He was about to point out to her that he was freezing his nuts off when he noticed she was crying.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked gently and sat in the driver’s seat so he could hug her.
“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you” she said between sobs
“Well I’m not planning on going anywhere” Tony said “Apart from somewhere warm, and I’m planning on taking you with me”
“But what if you’d been killed? How would I live without you in my life?” she asked and cried again
After he had reassured her that he was never going to leave her they gathered their bags together and made the short but nonetheless difficult walk to Pike’s Farm Cottage.
They were very cold by the time they got there but Tony had to just drop his bags and immediately do a return trip to get the rest of the bags.
“Be careful” Denise said and held him very tightly
“I’ll be fine honey” he said “put the kettle on and I’ll be back before it’s boiled”
It was half an hour before he returned and not only had she boiled the kettle but she had lit the wood burner, had the water heater working as well as having some tinned soup warming on the hob.
“Thank God” she exclaimed and hugged him “I was beginning to get worried”
The reason for her concern was that the wind had strengthened while he was gone and walking in thick snow while being battered by a howling wind meant that he made slow progress.
“Are you ok?” she asked
“Ccccold” He said through chattering teeth
“Come on” she ordered “we need to warm you up”
The cottage wasn’t much warmer than it was when they first arrived but the wood burner was giving off some significant warmth so she steered him over to that and left him there while she checked on the status of the hot water.
She went into the kitchen and the indicator light on the water heater told her they had a full tank, so she took the soup off the hob, and then went to the bathroom and turned on the taps.
(Part 05)
She went into the kitchen and the indicator light on the water heater told her they had a full tank, so she took the soup off the hob, and then went to the bathroom and turned on the taps.
When she returned to the little sitting room he was still stood in front of the fire and he had steam rising from his legs and he was still shivering.
“Ok let’s go” she said and took him from the sitting room, through the hall and upstairs to the bathroom.
Once inside the steamy bathroom she turned towards him and said
“Right, get those wet clothes off”
He tried to comply but he couldn’t feel his fingers as he struggled with the buttons.
So Denise had to undress him, normally a rather enjoyable activity, but this time it was rather less so.
“What on earth were you thinking?” she barked as she undid his shirt “you silly man”
He didn’t respond, as the chattering of his teeth appeared to be worsening.
“You could have died out there,” she continued pulling down his trousers and pants
“You could have died” she repeated and smacked his bare bum cheek
“Ok get in”
But he didn’t do as she instructed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked
“Yyyyou tttoooo” he stuttered
“Ok” she said “you get in and I’ll get the towels”
“How are you feeling now?” she asked as they both lay in the foamy water
“Much better” he replied
“Good” she said “Because I’m not ready to live without you”
“There’s no chance of that” he said and kissed her neck
“I think it’s time to get out now” she said and stood up, then she stepped out of the bath and wrapped towels around herself
“Let’s get you on your feet” she said and reached down
“It’s ok I can manage” Tony said and stood up but Denise was on hand to help him if he needed it and when he was out she immediately festooned him with towels.
She was very attentive to him and when she had finished patting him dry he sat down on the toilet and pulled her onto his lap.
It was about 8 pm and Denise was sitting on Tony’s lap wrapped in bath sheets and his arms when she said.
“We need to get moving before you get cold again”
“Do we have to move?” he whined, “I’m cosy”
“Yes” she said curtly “we need to eat something hot and then we can get cosy in bed”
Tony and Denise quickly got dressed and went downstairs and ate the soup she had prepared and then they went upstairs to bed but barely a word passed between them as they got themselves ready and got beneath the duvet.
“You’re very quiet” she observed as the cuddled up
“That’s because I’m thinking” he replied
“What are you thinking about?” she asked with foreboding, had she overdone the concern? Had she mothered him or smothered him.
“I was just thinking how lucky I am that my Christmas wish has been granted”
“What Christmas wish?”
“I wished that there was more to our relationship than just sex” he replied “and today I found out that there was”
Denise gasped when he said the words and then asked
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes” he replied
“That’s what I wished for too” she said
“I love you Dr Guilford”
“And I love you” Denise said
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 and Tipton in the north but our story begins slightly further south equidistant between Nettlefield and the Oxley’s, in the beautiful village of Heathervale.
When Chris Palmer moved to Nettlefield from Purplemere following a very acrimonious divorce he had sworn off women for good.
But he was a relatively good looking man who was fast approaching his 40th birthday, with a good physique and short sandy hair, greying at the temples and was possessed of piercing blue eyes, so he didn’t go unnoticed.
His reason for moving to Nettlefield in particular, over all the other places he might have chosen either in Downshire or beyond, was the Heatherlands District Health Centre.
It was a large practise that serviced a large area, covering Nettlefield itself, Oxley Green, Heathervale, Oxley Ridge and Tipton and Chris had been fortunate enough to land the job as practice manager and he also found himself a nice little flat in Nettlefield.
The senior partner, and Chris’s boss, at the Health Centre was Dr Clarisse Lowe, a tall statuesque woman who dressed in tweed, with Chestnut hair, a voluptuous figure, lovely long legs and a generous frontage, who was in her mid-forties and was just the kind of woman Chris would have fallen for in his previous life.
Clarisse had been married to Edward Lowe, who had been an eminent surgeon in Downshire, he had also been twenty years older when he married her and he had two children from his first marriage, Josie being the oldest.
The marriage was a happy one but only lasted five years because Edward died suddenly on the Tipton Twelve Trees Golf course after suffering a heart attack.
She had been a widow for 10 years when Chris arrived in her life, her widowhood had left her lonely but also afraid of risking her heart on someone who might end that loneliness
But apart from the fact that she had vowed not to risk her broken heart again she also had instigated a policy at the practise forbidding fraternisation between members of staff, so even if she were so inclined toward Chris she wouldn’t be disposed to go against her own edict.
But the heart wants what the heart wants which was why two people who despite their reluctance to expose themselves to love again and who were very definitely not looking for a relationship, let alone love, found it anyway.
And as a by-product of the loving relationship she scrapped the “No Fraternizing policy” which meant that the surgical gloves were off in regard to work place relationships.
(Part 02)
As a bi-product of the loving relationship she began with Chris, Clarisse scrapped the “No Fraternizing policy” which meant that the surgical gloves were off in regard to work place relationships which was just what the doctor ordered for a lot of the staff, but for doctors
Tony Dark and Denise Guilford it made no difference at all because they had been romantically involved for two years.
The scrapping of the relationship ban should have given them the green light to come out of the closet but the simple truth was that they rather liked the closet, they enjoyed the sneaking around.
When they were around other people at the health centre they were cold and aloof, but in private they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, so whenever an opportunity to enjoy some intimacy presented itself they grabbed it with both hands.
And from the first moment when Denise made the decision to seduce Tony it opened up a whole new world of sensual pleasure, dirty, lustful, naked pleasure.
They both loved the excitement of sneaking around and it made them very aroused and they had to indulge themselves wherever they could.
Sometimes they did it in his house, occasionally in hers, at times they met at hotels and from time to time they did it at the surgery and even on occasion in her car, but never in his as it was far too small.
However as time went on their appetite for spending time together grew exponentially so at The Heatherlands District Health Centre staff Christmas Party which was held at The Foothills Hotel in Oxley Ridge, they made a decision.
They had found it tortuous during the party, not to be able to hold each other’s hand, as they often did when they were together, or dance together on the dancefloor.
They had to maintain the cold and aloof stance that typified the relationship they allowed people to see.
But later that night after he had sneaked into her room they lay huddled beneath the duvet in the afterglow and hatched a plan for their perfect Christmas.
Both Denise and Tony were from the southern end of the county, she was from Abbottsford while he came from Sharpington and they both had family remaining there, and further more they were expected for Christmas.
However as part of their plan they told their respective families that they were on call over Christmas, it was a real shame but they had drawn the short straw so they would have to miss out on the festivities.
They weren’t on call obviously and they were going to have their own festivities and the location they chose was a cottage in the Hamlet of Oxspike on the edge of The Pepperstock Hills National Park.
The reason that the couple chose that particular getaway destination was four fold, firstly they would be alone, second there was no chance of seeing anyone they knew, thirdly the nearest neighbour was half a mile away and lastly because Oxspike was high up in the crags of the park they often got snow up there and Denise and Tony wanted a white Christmas to make everything perfect.
(Part 03)
The Pepperstock Hills National Park 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.
It 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 the 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.
Denise and Tony had booked Pike’s Farm Cottage from the 23rd of December to the 27th, so it was a cold miserable Friday morning when Tony picked Denise up in a quiet corner of the car park of the Nettlefield branch of Stephenson Supermarket.
A mixture of rain and sleet peppered the windscreen as they left the car park and headed towards their Christmas getaway, half an hour later the rain and sleet had turned to snow and they were jubilant that they were in for a white Christmas but by the time they reached Oxley Ridge they were in a blizzard and they were less euphoric.
The roads were barely visible in places the higher they climbed and Tony had to drive very gingerly along the exposed stretches, but after ten minutes they got lucky when a Land Rover pulled onto the road ahead of them so he got in its tracks and followed it for the next four miles and then just as they were beginning to feel comfortable, disaster struck twice in quick succession firstly when the Land Rover turned off and then seconds later the car heater stopped working.
So they pressed on with caution as they were less than four miles from their destination but as a result two of those miles took almost an hour to cover.
But when they were within striking distance of the cottage Tony got a bit cocky and lost control on the final bend and spun the car and went arse end first into a snow bank.
He tried to drive out of it but to no avail and resigned himself to the fact that they would have to walk the last half a mile.
“it looks like we’re walking from here” he said and got out of the car and the wind cut through his thin clothing like it wasn’t there but he quickly got his coat on and went to the back of the car where he found the boot staved in and he was unable to open it.
“Shit” he said and had to go in the back of the car to put the seats down to retrieve the luggage.
(Part 04)
He tried to drive out of it but to no avail and resigned himself to the fact that they would have to walk the last half a mile.
“it looks like we’re walking from here” he said and got out of the car and the wind cut through his thin clothing like it wasn’t there but he quickly got his coat on and went to the back of the car where he found the boot staved in and he was unable to open it.
“Shit” he said and had to go in the back of the car to put the seats down to retrieve the luggage.
Once he had the bags out he noticed that Denise was still sat in the passenger seat.
He was about to point out to her that he was freezing his nuts off when he noticed she was crying.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked gently and sat in the driver’s seat so he could hug her.
“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you” she said between sobs
“Well I’m not planning on going anywhere” Tony said “Apart from somewhere warm, and I’m planning on taking you with me”
“But what if you’d been killed? How would I live without you in my life?” she asked and cried again
After he had reassured her that he was never going to leave her they gathered their bags together and made the short but nonetheless difficult walk to Pike’s Farm Cottage.
They were very cold by the time they got there but Tony had to just drop his bags and immediately do a return trip to get the rest of the bags.
“Be careful” Denise said and held him very tightly
“I’ll be fine honey” he said “put the kettle on and I’ll be back before it’s boiled”
It was half an hour before he returned and not only had she boiled the kettle but she had lit the wood burner, had the water heater working as well as having some tinned soup warming on the hob.
“Thank God” she exclaimed and hugged him “I was beginning to get worried”
The reason for her concern was that the wind had strengthened while he was gone and walking in thick snow while being battered by a howling wind meant that he made slow progress.
“Are you ok?” she asked
“Ccccold” He said through chattering teeth
“Come on” she ordered “we need to warm you up”
The cottage wasn’t much warmer than it was when they first arrived but the wood burner was giving off some significant warmth so she steered him over to that and left him there while she checked on the status of the hot water.
She went into the kitchen and the indicator light on the water heater told her they had a full tank, so she took the soup off the hob, and then went to the bathroom and turned on the taps.
(Part 05)
She went into the kitchen and the indicator light on the water heater told her they had a full tank, so she took the soup off the hob, and then went to the bathroom and turned on the taps.
When she returned to the little sitting room he was still stood in front of the fire and he had steam rising from his legs and he was still shivering.
“Ok let’s go” she said and took him from the sitting room, through the hall and upstairs to the bathroom.
Once inside the steamy bathroom she turned towards him and said
“Right, get those wet clothes off”
He tried to comply but he couldn’t feel his fingers as he struggled with the buttons.
So Denise had to undress him, normally a rather enjoyable activity, but this time it was rather less so.
“What on earth were you thinking?” she barked as she undid his shirt “you silly man”
He didn’t respond, as the chattering of his teeth appeared to be worsening.
“You could have died out there,” she continued pulling down his trousers and pants
“You could have died” she repeated and smacked his bare bum cheek
“Ok get in”
But he didn’t do as she instructed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked
“Yyyyou tttoooo” he stuttered
“Ok” she said “you get in and I’ll get the towels”
“How are you feeling now?” she asked as they both lay in the foamy water
“Much better” he replied
“Good” she said “Because I’m not ready to live without you”
“There’s no chance of that” he said and kissed her neck
“I think it’s time to get out now” she said and stood up, then she stepped out of the bath and wrapped towels around herself
“Let’s get you on your feet” she said and reached down
“It’s ok I can manage” Tony said and stood up but Denise was on hand to help him if he needed it and when he was out she immediately festooned him with towels.
She was very attentive to him and when she had finished patting him dry he sat down on the toilet and pulled her onto his lap.
It was about 8 pm and Denise was sitting on Tony’s lap wrapped in bath sheets and his arms when she said.
“We need to get moving before you get cold again”
“Do we have to move?” he whined, “I’m cosy”
“Yes” she said curtly “we need to eat something hot and then we can get cosy in bed”
Tony and Denise quickly got dressed and went downstairs and ate the soup she had prepared and then they went upstairs to bed but barely a word passed between them as they got themselves ready and got beneath the duvet.
“You’re very quiet” she observed as the cuddled up
“That’s because I’m thinking” he replied
“What are you thinking about?” she asked with foreboding, had she overdone the concern? Had she mothered him or smothered him.
“I was just thinking how lucky I am that my Christmas wish has been granted”
“What Christmas wish?”
“I wished that there was more to our relationship than just sex” he replied “and today I found out that there was”
Denise gasped when he said the words and then asked
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes” he replied
“That’s what I wished for too” she said
“I love you Dr Guilford”
“And I love you” Denise said
Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (71) Sisterly Love Reprised
The affair between Lionel Matthews and his sister in law Claire Tanning began after a party at the Kettlewell Village Hall when she got her sister Paula blind drunk on gin by ten o’clock.
She then offered to help Lionel walk the casualty home where she then seduced him after parading herself in her black underwear.
That was the first of several times that they made love over a two week period and then Claire was racked with guilt and the passion appeared to cool for her.
The Matthews and the Tannings had lived all their married lives in Kettlewell and they were ordinary down to earth people and after twenty years of marriage both couples had reached their middle years without being blessed with children and so their leisure time was more often than not spent together in a variety of ways, restaurants, theatre, cinema, sports and even holidays.
Even after the seduction she and her sister remained close, and as they always had done, the Matthews’s and the Tanning’s spent a lot of their leisure time together.
Lionel played golf every week with Claire’s husband Paul and the sisters did a lot together, shopping, book club, and spa dates to name but a few.
And in addition to that the two couple’s spent two weeks every July in the Whitecliff Hill Caravan Park close to Sharpington.
Claire wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea that year because of the sexual tension between her and Lionel but she knew that it was impossible to change their plans without it causing suspicions.
Lionel was of a different opinion, he wanted to make love to her again and by the time they set off to Sharpington 4 months had elapsed since they had shared a bed.
The weather was glorious that summer and every time he looked at Claire, in shorts or a swimsuit or a summer dress he just wanted her more and more.
Paul seemed immune to his wife’s beauty and divided all of his time between golf and sailing.
“What a waste” Lionel thought
But despite his longing for Claire he was not neglecting Paula, they had always had a very healthy sex life, but as exciting as the illicit sex with Claire was there was more to it than that, there was a tenderness that he didn’t have with his wife and she didn’t share with Paul.
And as the week went on he realised it was her that he was missing and not the sex, he had fallen in love with his sister in law.
The next day Lionel’s wife Paula and Claire’s husband Paul left Whitecliff early to go on a diving trip to the Pepperstock Pits, Lionel wasn’t going as he was claustrophobic and nor was Claire as she couldn’t swim, but she was still giving him the cold shoulder so he wasn’t hopeful of spending any time together.
So he just sat outside his caravan drinking coffee and reading the papers and he supposed Claire was doing something similar at hers.
After about an hour he switched his beverage allegiance from coffee to beer and had just sat back down when Claire appeared from behind the adjacent caravan, she didn’t say anything she just stood about twenty feet away and looked at him, then after a moment or two she smiled and went back the way she had come.
Lionel took her behaviour and the smile as an invitation to follow.
As he rounded the corner Claire had paused on the top step to her Caravan, she was still smiling and as he stepped towards her she went inside.
When he reached the top step and went through the open door and closed the door behind him she was stood by the table looking down at the floor.
“I haven’t changed my mind, about the sex I mean” she said
He put his drink down on the side and put his hand on her chin and turned her face towards him.
“It’s not the sex that I miss” he replied and she immediately responded by hugging him and kissing his neck.
Lionel and Claire spent the rest of the day walking hand in hand along Sharpington sands and discussing the future.
There deliberations would have been made all the easier hand they known that their spouses hadn’t been diving that day but had spent the day picnicking at Pepperstock Castle and were themselves walking hand in hand around the ruins.
She then offered to help Lionel walk the casualty home where she then seduced him after parading herself in her black underwear.
That was the first of several times that they made love over a two week period and then Claire was racked with guilt and the passion appeared to cool for her.
The Matthews and the Tannings had lived all their married lives in Kettlewell and they were ordinary down to earth people and after twenty years of marriage both couples had reached their middle years without being blessed with children and so their leisure time was more often than not spent together in a variety of ways, restaurants, theatre, cinema, sports and even holidays.
Even after the seduction she and her sister remained close, and as they always had done, the Matthews’s and the Tanning’s spent a lot of their leisure time together.
Lionel played golf every week with Claire’s husband Paul and the sisters did a lot together, shopping, book club, and spa dates to name but a few.
And in addition to that the two couple’s spent two weeks every July in the Whitecliff Hill Caravan Park close to Sharpington.
Claire wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea that year because of the sexual tension between her and Lionel but she knew that it was impossible to change their plans without it causing suspicions.
Lionel was of a different opinion, he wanted to make love to her again and by the time they set off to Sharpington 4 months had elapsed since they had shared a bed.
The weather was glorious that summer and every time he looked at Claire, in shorts or a swimsuit or a summer dress he just wanted her more and more.
Paul seemed immune to his wife’s beauty and divided all of his time between golf and sailing.
“What a waste” Lionel thought
But despite his longing for Claire he was not neglecting Paula, they had always had a very healthy sex life, but as exciting as the illicit sex with Claire was there was more to it than that, there was a tenderness that he didn’t have with his wife and she didn’t share with Paul.
And as the week went on he realised it was her that he was missing and not the sex, he had fallen in love with his sister in law.
The next day Lionel’s wife Paula and Claire’s husband Paul left Whitecliff early to go on a diving trip to the Pepperstock Pits, Lionel wasn’t going as he was claustrophobic and nor was Claire as she couldn’t swim, but she was still giving him the cold shoulder so he wasn’t hopeful of spending any time together.
So he just sat outside his caravan drinking coffee and reading the papers and he supposed Claire was doing something similar at hers.
After about an hour he switched his beverage allegiance from coffee to beer and had just sat back down when Claire appeared from behind the adjacent caravan, she didn’t say anything she just stood about twenty feet away and looked at him, then after a moment or two she smiled and went back the way she had come.
Lionel took her behaviour and the smile as an invitation to follow.
As he rounded the corner Claire had paused on the top step to her Caravan, she was still smiling and as he stepped towards her she went inside.
When he reached the top step and went through the open door and closed the door behind him she was stood by the table looking down at the floor.
“I haven’t changed my mind, about the sex I mean” she said
He put his drink down on the side and put his hand on her chin and turned her face towards him.
“It’s not the sex that I miss” he replied and she immediately responded by hugging him and kissing his neck.
Lionel and Claire spent the rest of the day walking hand in hand along Sharpington sands and discussing the future.
There deliberations would have been made all the easier hand they known that their spouses hadn’t been diving that day but had spent the day picnicking at Pepperstock Castle and were themselves walking hand in hand around the ruins.
Saturday, 3 June 2017
Mornington-By-Mere – (71) Love Letter’s
(Part 01)
Jennifer Bardsley lived in the small country village of Mornington-By-Mere in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
Which was a quaint picturesque village, a proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House, 12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse, a River and a Mere.
She lived and worked up at Mornington Field, which had once been an operational RAF base, which had been converted into a mixture of commercial and residential units.
Jen lived in apartment 1O of Lancaster House, which was converted from the old Officers Mess and she was employed by Paige Turners as did the love of her life, David Norman.
The Normans ran the general store and post office in the village and also staffed the chemist shop for its limited opening times.
David was almost 22 years old, quiet, unassuming, thoughtful and intelligent and totally head of heels in love.
He loved Mornington and he didn’t want to spend his life anywhere else but would have gladly left the village just to be close to Jennifer.
He also quite liked the Grocery trade, and could quite easily have done it full time like his father and Uncles had, but he was also a well-read young man, and as he was an intelligent young man his parents didn’t want to stifle him, so he worked part time in the shop along with working full time up at Paige Turners.
So with him and Jennifer both working up at Paige Turners and both fancying the pants off each other it should have been a shoe in for them to get together, but that was not the case.
David was willing, but Jennifer had reservations and that was because she was 8 years older than he was.
He was a singularly unremarkable looking man to look at, Mr average, ordinary, not unattractive but not attractive either, with pale skin, sandy coloured hair and crystal blue eyes.
On the first day they met Jennifer fell in love with him when she looked into those eyes for the first time.
David was in simple terms one of life’s moths, plain and bland and always drawn to the light but never a source of light.
While Jennifer was the complete opposite, if he was a moth then she was very definitely a butterfly.
She was a strikingly good looking young woman, not supermodel beautiful, but very lovely, tall and voluptuous with luscious black hair and hypnotic blue eyes.
But despite the fact that they were the sun and the moon in each other’s skies and were besotted from the first moment they entered the others orbit Jennifer put the brakes on her feelings and rebuffed David’s advances because she didn’t think that the age difference could be overcome.
She envisaged jibes from colleagues and villagers alike about the cougar and her toy boy.
In reality the vast majority would have just been happy for them and as far as David was concerned she could have been 20 years older than him and he would still have wanted her.
(Part 02)
Jennifer’s job at Paige Turners was as a locator of hard to find books, rare books, first editions and the illusive.
She possessed an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the printed word and knew how to sort the wheat from the chaff and her talents were invaluable to Paige Turners and they were fortunate to have her and they very nearly lost her when the move was made from Finchbottom to Mornington.
She was one of the doubting Thomas’s along with Annette West and Carole Beverley who were unsure about such a move.
But once they saw the village and the standard of the accommodation on offer they all signed on the dotted line without any further hesitation.
Her skill at seeking out the illusive and the obscure meant that Paige Turners were the go to people if you wanted something different, special or that which had eluded you.
So it was in her role as book expert extraordinaire that she made the drive one Monday morning over to Clerembeax Palace which was to the west of Abbeyvale situated between Grace Hill and Bushy Down on the outskirts of the village of Clerembeax St Giles.
The Clerembeax’s arrived in Downshire following the Norman conquests and stayed for a thousand years before the name died out following the death of the reclusive Marcus Clerembeax at the age of 96.
He had lived alone, apart from a butler and a cook, for 50 years after the tragic deaths of his two sons in the hedonistic sixties as a result of an excess of drugs and alcohol.
His wife chose to deal with the loss by taking her own life the day after the funeral while Marcus decided his best course of action was to turn his back on the world and hide himself away.
Following his death in the autumn of 2015 with no direct heirs it took the Clerembeax solicitors, Beaumont, Villiers and Goodfellow, more than a year to find a legitimate Heir to inherit the estate, and that was 50 year old distant cousin Yvonne Labuschagne, and she took up residence in the January of 2017.
She was by profession a masseuse and had worked for many years along with her late husband at the Dancingdean Spa Hotel in Childean.
But with her inheritance she had the means and the venue to open her own Spa at the Clerembeax Palace but the house needed work.
The exterior was fine as the reclusive Marcus had been sensible enough to keep the fabric of the building well maintained.
She wasn’t sure about keeping the word “Palace” in the name because the building didn’t really look very palatial, mainly due to the fact that the original Clerembeax Palace burned down in the 19th century so the present manifestation was in fact a rather gaudy Victorian monstrosity in comparison, though it was not without its charms.
The interior had stood the test of time far less well and needed at the very least a lot of TLC.
The 19th century plumbing certainly wouldn’t stand the rigors of a 21st century spa and the electrics needed a complete rewire.
While the library was both a blessing and a curse, the latter because it took up so much space and the former because it was full of valuable old books which was where Jennifer Bardsley and Paige Turners came in.
(Part 03)
For the new owner of the Clerembeax Palace, Yvonne Labuschagne, the library was both a blessing and a curse, the latter because it took up so much space and the former because it was full of valuable old books which was where Jennifer Bardsley and Paige Turners came in.
Because the revenue from the book sale would go a long way to paying for the refit, or at least that was what Yvonne hoped.
When people were looking for a particular book, or a particular edition and they weren’t readily available they went on the “wish list” and it was that list that she was hoping would be much reduced after her week in Clerembeax.
After first meeting Yvonne and having a brief chat over coffee Jennifer entered the musty library of the once great house with its leather upholstered chairs and oak panelled walls and she instantly felt at home, it was after all her perfect place.
She spent the first hour just casually perusing the packed shelves and just in that short time she had found four titles on the wish list.
She spent the first four days doing a rough appraisal of the library and gave Yvonne a ball park figure of what she might expect at auction from the rarest volumes and she nearly fainted.
But to catalogue the whole library would take a little while longer and she would need reinforcements to complete the task.
The understanding when Paige Turners undertook the appraisal was that they would have first refusal on the contents at the market value but they recommended O’Sullivan and Springthorpe to sell the really valuable items at auction and Paige Turners would take a small commission.
On Friday she decided that before driving home she would spend a couple of hours relaxing in the library so she took a seat in a Chesterfield chair beside the fire and in consummate comfort she began to read.
But her chosen reading was not one of the myriad of leather bound tomes that filled the oak shelves from floor to ceiling, nor a rare first edition, of which there were so many, despite her having her choice of all the literary classics, with their gold embossed titles stamped into the leather, it wasn’t one of those.
In fact Jennifer’s selection wasn’t a book at all it was a collection of letters neatly tied in faded red ribbons and as she began to read them they took her breath away, for each beautifully hand written page was part of a remarkable love story.
The lifelong love story about a most extraordinary couple, whose depth of love was evidenced in every eloquent syllable.
As she read on, their love affair was revealed to her as the most exceptional love story she had ever read or known of.
For this lovingly devoted couple who billed and cooed in copperplate script on every scented page and shared their hearts love and their deepest feelings in unguarded detail, had never met.
“How could that be” she said aloud
She thought their love was evident, in fact it was palpable on every page of their intimate personnel correspondence.
“Poppycock” she exclaimed “that’s not what this is”
Correspondence did not in any form convey the true meaning of their substance.
The tangibility was in their Love letters that was the only way to say it.
Although they had begun to write in the innocence of childhood as mere pen pals, for a project set by School, a chore that had to be done didn’t remain burdensome for long as they had fallen in love.
(Part 04)
The flowery words of an affaire d’amour, echoed in the calligraphy on every page, in each revealing billet doux, more affectionate, romantic and intimate than its passionate predecessor.
She read on as they billed and cooed on every page in each lovingly constructed sentence, heavily laced with innuendo and dripping with sensual longing, subtle yet explicit at the same time and flavoured with delicious nuances, flirtatious and lustful, romantic and affectionate.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she read of a love of such perfect purity, not it had to be said for its pureness of thought but for the absence of any hope of physicality.
For their love was star-crossed, because she was an invalid, bed ridden, stricken with polio as a child, while he was a subject of an enemy state and because their two nations were at war she couldn’t go to him even if her health had permitted.
He in turn was unable to go to her for fear of capture and imprisonment so they could never meet, would never meet.
And as Jennifer read on it was obvious to the reader that they were content in that fact, for their love transcended the physical.
So they made love via their sweet missives, a love that never faded or faltered, in an affair lasting more than forty years, which only ended with his death.
Jennifer stopped to wipe her eyes and then read the final pages which revealed the one and only public acknowledgement of the lifelong love affair.
That acknowledge was in his will when he expressed as his dying wish that her letters, which were so precious to him and cherished during his lifetime, should be returned to his love, so that they at least should lie together.
On receipt of the letter and the news that her cherished lover had left the world she was so broken hearted that she died a week after receiving them and with her death the lovers could be united at last.
Jennifer sat in the library and sobbed her heart out for an hour and when she had finished crying she
Said loudly
“You’re a bloody fool”
She sat upright and wiped her eyes and added
“She couldn’t have the man she loved, and she loved him till she died”
“But you can, and you’ve done nothing about it”
She left the library and marched to her room talking to herself the whole way
“She never met the love of her life and you see the man you love every day”
She quickly threw her things in her bag
“You just fret about what people will think of you, well sod them, sod them all”
“Every day you see him and you’ve done nothing about it”
She repeated then she set her chin defiantly and added
“Well that changes today”
She left Clerembeax Palace without even pausing to say goodbye and drove back to Mornington at breakneck speed and went straight to Paige Turners where without even pausing for breath she marked inside without acknowledging anyone until she spotted David, and she made a beeline for him and ignoring the fact that he was in conversation with a colleague and without speaking she went straight up to him and kissed him passionately in full view of the whole staff.
“Well it’s about time” Paige said and everyone agreed “We should send her away more often”
Jennifer Bardsley lived in the small country village of Mornington-By-Mere in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
Which was a quaint picturesque village, a proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House, 12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse, a River and a Mere.
She lived and worked up at Mornington Field, which had once been an operational RAF base, which had been converted into a mixture of commercial and residential units.
Jen lived in apartment 1O of Lancaster House, which was converted from the old Officers Mess and she was employed by Paige Turners as did the love of her life, David Norman.
The Normans ran the general store and post office in the village and also staffed the chemist shop for its limited opening times.
David was almost 22 years old, quiet, unassuming, thoughtful and intelligent and totally head of heels in love.
He loved Mornington and he didn’t want to spend his life anywhere else but would have gladly left the village just to be close to Jennifer.
He also quite liked the Grocery trade, and could quite easily have done it full time like his father and Uncles had, but he was also a well-read young man, and as he was an intelligent young man his parents didn’t want to stifle him, so he worked part time in the shop along with working full time up at Paige Turners.
So with him and Jennifer both working up at Paige Turners and both fancying the pants off each other it should have been a shoe in for them to get together, but that was not the case.
David was willing, but Jennifer had reservations and that was because she was 8 years older than he was.
He was a singularly unremarkable looking man to look at, Mr average, ordinary, not unattractive but not attractive either, with pale skin, sandy coloured hair and crystal blue eyes.
On the first day they met Jennifer fell in love with him when she looked into those eyes for the first time.
David was in simple terms one of life’s moths, plain and bland and always drawn to the light but never a source of light.
While Jennifer was the complete opposite, if he was a moth then she was very definitely a butterfly.
She was a strikingly good looking young woman, not supermodel beautiful, but very lovely, tall and voluptuous with luscious black hair and hypnotic blue eyes.
But despite the fact that they were the sun and the moon in each other’s skies and were besotted from the first moment they entered the others orbit Jennifer put the brakes on her feelings and rebuffed David’s advances because she didn’t think that the age difference could be overcome.
She envisaged jibes from colleagues and villagers alike about the cougar and her toy boy.
In reality the vast majority would have just been happy for them and as far as David was concerned she could have been 20 years older than him and he would still have wanted her.
(Part 02)
Jennifer’s job at Paige Turners was as a locator of hard to find books, rare books, first editions and the illusive.
She possessed an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the printed word and knew how to sort the wheat from the chaff and her talents were invaluable to Paige Turners and they were fortunate to have her and they very nearly lost her when the move was made from Finchbottom to Mornington.
She was one of the doubting Thomas’s along with Annette West and Carole Beverley who were unsure about such a move.
But once they saw the village and the standard of the accommodation on offer they all signed on the dotted line without any further hesitation.
Her skill at seeking out the illusive and the obscure meant that Paige Turners were the go to people if you wanted something different, special or that which had eluded you.
So it was in her role as book expert extraordinaire that she made the drive one Monday morning over to Clerembeax Palace which was to the west of Abbeyvale situated between Grace Hill and Bushy Down on the outskirts of the village of Clerembeax St Giles.
The Clerembeax’s arrived in Downshire following the Norman conquests and stayed for a thousand years before the name died out following the death of the reclusive Marcus Clerembeax at the age of 96.
He had lived alone, apart from a butler and a cook, for 50 years after the tragic deaths of his two sons in the hedonistic sixties as a result of an excess of drugs and alcohol.
His wife chose to deal with the loss by taking her own life the day after the funeral while Marcus decided his best course of action was to turn his back on the world and hide himself away.
Following his death in the autumn of 2015 with no direct heirs it took the Clerembeax solicitors, Beaumont, Villiers and Goodfellow, more than a year to find a legitimate Heir to inherit the estate, and that was 50 year old distant cousin Yvonne Labuschagne, and she took up residence in the January of 2017.
She was by profession a masseuse and had worked for many years along with her late husband at the Dancingdean Spa Hotel in Childean.
But with her inheritance she had the means and the venue to open her own Spa at the Clerembeax Palace but the house needed work.
The exterior was fine as the reclusive Marcus had been sensible enough to keep the fabric of the building well maintained.
She wasn’t sure about keeping the word “Palace” in the name because the building didn’t really look very palatial, mainly due to the fact that the original Clerembeax Palace burned down in the 19th century so the present manifestation was in fact a rather gaudy Victorian monstrosity in comparison, though it was not without its charms.
The interior had stood the test of time far less well and needed at the very least a lot of TLC.
The 19th century plumbing certainly wouldn’t stand the rigors of a 21st century spa and the electrics needed a complete rewire.
While the library was both a blessing and a curse, the latter because it took up so much space and the former because it was full of valuable old books which was where Jennifer Bardsley and Paige Turners came in.
(Part 03)
For the new owner of the Clerembeax Palace, Yvonne Labuschagne, the library was both a blessing and a curse, the latter because it took up so much space and the former because it was full of valuable old books which was where Jennifer Bardsley and Paige Turners came in.
Because the revenue from the book sale would go a long way to paying for the refit, or at least that was what Yvonne hoped.
When people were looking for a particular book, or a particular edition and they weren’t readily available they went on the “wish list” and it was that list that she was hoping would be much reduced after her week in Clerembeax.
After first meeting Yvonne and having a brief chat over coffee Jennifer entered the musty library of the once great house with its leather upholstered chairs and oak panelled walls and she instantly felt at home, it was after all her perfect place.
She spent the first hour just casually perusing the packed shelves and just in that short time she had found four titles on the wish list.
She spent the first four days doing a rough appraisal of the library and gave Yvonne a ball park figure of what she might expect at auction from the rarest volumes and she nearly fainted.
But to catalogue the whole library would take a little while longer and she would need reinforcements to complete the task.
The understanding when Paige Turners undertook the appraisal was that they would have first refusal on the contents at the market value but they recommended O’Sullivan and Springthorpe to sell the really valuable items at auction and Paige Turners would take a small commission.
On Friday she decided that before driving home she would spend a couple of hours relaxing in the library so she took a seat in a Chesterfield chair beside the fire and in consummate comfort she began to read.
But her chosen reading was not one of the myriad of leather bound tomes that filled the oak shelves from floor to ceiling, nor a rare first edition, of which there were so many, despite her having her choice of all the literary classics, with their gold embossed titles stamped into the leather, it wasn’t one of those.
In fact Jennifer’s selection wasn’t a book at all it was a collection of letters neatly tied in faded red ribbons and as she began to read them they took her breath away, for each beautifully hand written page was part of a remarkable love story.
The lifelong love story about a most extraordinary couple, whose depth of love was evidenced in every eloquent syllable.
As she read on, their love affair was revealed to her as the most exceptional love story she had ever read or known of.
For this lovingly devoted couple who billed and cooed in copperplate script on every scented page and shared their hearts love and their deepest feelings in unguarded detail, had never met.
“How could that be” she said aloud
She thought their love was evident, in fact it was palpable on every page of their intimate personnel correspondence.
“Poppycock” she exclaimed “that’s not what this is”
Correspondence did not in any form convey the true meaning of their substance.
The tangibility was in their Love letters that was the only way to say it.
Although they had begun to write in the innocence of childhood as mere pen pals, for a project set by School, a chore that had to be done didn’t remain burdensome for long as they had fallen in love.
(Part 04)
The flowery words of an affaire d’amour, echoed in the calligraphy on every page, in each revealing billet doux, more affectionate, romantic and intimate than its passionate predecessor.
She read on as they billed and cooed on every page in each lovingly constructed sentence, heavily laced with innuendo and dripping with sensual longing, subtle yet explicit at the same time and flavoured with delicious nuances, flirtatious and lustful, romantic and affectionate.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she read of a love of such perfect purity, not it had to be said for its pureness of thought but for the absence of any hope of physicality.
For their love was star-crossed, because she was an invalid, bed ridden, stricken with polio as a child, while he was a subject of an enemy state and because their two nations were at war she couldn’t go to him even if her health had permitted.
He in turn was unable to go to her for fear of capture and imprisonment so they could never meet, would never meet.
And as Jennifer read on it was obvious to the reader that they were content in that fact, for their love transcended the physical.
So they made love via their sweet missives, a love that never faded or faltered, in an affair lasting more than forty years, which only ended with his death.
Jennifer stopped to wipe her eyes and then read the final pages which revealed the one and only public acknowledgement of the lifelong love affair.
That acknowledge was in his will when he expressed as his dying wish that her letters, which were so precious to him and cherished during his lifetime, should be returned to his love, so that they at least should lie together.
On receipt of the letter and the news that her cherished lover had left the world she was so broken hearted that she died a week after receiving them and with her death the lovers could be united at last.
Jennifer sat in the library and sobbed her heart out for an hour and when she had finished crying she
Said loudly
“You’re a bloody fool”
She sat upright and wiped her eyes and added
“She couldn’t have the man she loved, and she loved him till she died”
“But you can, and you’ve done nothing about it”
She left the library and marched to her room talking to herself the whole way
“She never met the love of her life and you see the man you love every day”
She quickly threw her things in her bag
“You just fret about what people will think of you, well sod them, sod them all”
“Every day you see him and you’ve done nothing about it”
She repeated then she set her chin defiantly and added
“Well that changes today”
She left Clerembeax Palace without even pausing to say goodbye and drove back to Mornington at breakneck speed and went straight to Paige Turners where without even pausing for breath she marked inside without acknowledging anyone until she spotted David, and she made a beeline for him and ignoring the fact that he was in conversation with a colleague and without speaking she went straight up to him and kissed him passionately in full view of the whole staff.
“Well it’s about time” Paige said and everyone agreed “We should send her away more often”
Friday, 2 June 2017
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (71) The Solicitor’s Receptionist
(Part 01)
Phil Marlow woke up exceptionally early and was exceptionally grumpy, which was quite unusual for him, but on this particular morning he was too grumpy for words and he wanted to cheer himself up at the earliest opportunity.
And the reason for his grumpiness was the firm of Shallowfield Solicitors, Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles, or more precisely Catherine Kimber the receptionist thereof.
His dealings at the Solicitors were concerning the settling of his late father’s estate which turned out to be quite protracted.
The particular Solicitor he was involved with was Linda Baxter, an attractive woman, tall and slender in her early thirties who wore a tailored business suit and spectacles, and she spoke in posh plummy tones, and had a sexy way of peering over the top of her spectacles which was very alluring.
But as attractive, glamorous, and alluring as she was with her posh voice and magnificent long legs she was way out of his league so he didn’t find her a distraction.
However Phil was on a mission to find a significant other to settle down with once his father’s affairs had been settled and he rather liked the look of the receptionist.
On his first visit he gazed lustily down her top at the quite pleasing vista restrained in a pink satin bra, which was a delightful surprise because her outer garments were very unremarkable, and when she realized he was staring down her top she quickly covered herself up and let out a rather disgusted exclamation, but then she smiled at him and blushed.
He may have thought her a straight laced prude, but he liked that, it had always turned him on, partly because of the challenge but more often than not because they turned out to be less straight laced beneath the façade.
So he returned her smile and asked
“Do you have anything with the address and phone number on?”
“Oh yes” she replied eagerly “I could give you one of my cards”
“Thank you….”
“Catherine” she said “Catherine Kimber”
“Thank you Catherine”
He wasn’t sure if he would ever call her but he had learned to keep his options open.
Phil thought that with regular visits to the offices he would get numerous opportunities to speak with her, but alas no.
And that was why he was grumpy because he had concluded his business with Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles, and he hadn’t asked her and nor had he phoned her.
So with the day beginning grumpily, he needed to find the courage to pick up the phone.
There were a number of local girls who had made it perfectly clear that they were willing and able but they weren’t really his type whatever that meant, but they were too pushy for his liking.
Even busty Belinda the gardener, who he had inherited so to speak from his father had given him the green light.
He had even considered going for the soft option of asking his ex-girlfriend Jenna Stimson out, things weren’t so bad with her, she was very nice, he could do a lot worse, and she didn’t want to break up in the first place.
So he took his phone from his pocket and was about to dial her number when he exclaimed
“What the hell are you doing? Her favourite colour is beige”
So without over thinking it he phoned the Solicitors
“Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles”
“Hello Catherine” he said “it’s Phil Marlow”
(Part 02)
He had considered going for the soft option of asking his ex-girlfriend Jenna Stimson out, things weren’t so bad with her, she was very nice, he could do a lot worse, and she didn’t want to break up in the first place.
So he took his phone from his pocket and was about to dial her number when he exclaimed
“What the hell are you doing? Her favourite colour is beige”
So without over thinking it he phoned the Solicitors
“Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles”
“Hello Catherine” he said “it’s Phil Marlow”
When he reached the building he went upstairs and stopped at the receptionist’s desk, which was deserted, and so he waited.
It was quite late in the day, late enough that almost everyone had left for the day.
He wasn’t there more than a few minutes before the cute blonde receptionist appeared surrounded by a cloud of freshly applied perfume.
Although in truth Phil was more interested in her rather than the perfume that surrounded her, but it was very pleasant nonetheless.
“Hello, you look lovely” he said and moved in for a kiss which he fully expected to be one of those air kiss affairs but Catherine had other ideas.
She planted a kiss straight on his lips and as soon as mouth met mouth her tongue engaged his own in oral combat and they wrapped themselves in a tender embrace.
He had wanted to kiss her the first moment he saw her and she was of similar mind but had thought the kiss would never materialise which was why she took it when it was offered.
“We have to stop” she said “Someone might see”
“Damn I was enjoying that” he said as he watched her adjusting her apparel.
“So was I” she admitted “shall we go”
They went down the stairwell towards the basement carpark but stopped half way down for another kiss which soon reignited passions flame, but when a stairwell door opened and closed either above or below she pushed him away and again straightened her clothes.
“Someone is going to see us” she said nervously
“Let’s go then” Phil said and took her hand and they ran down the stairs to the carpark.
When they reached her car Catherine fumbled for the car keys in her bag and failed.
“Your hands are shaking” he pointed out
“I know that’s your fault” she said and tipped the contents of her bag on the bonnet.
“Why?” he asked innocently
“You know why” she replied “because I thought you were never going to call and you did out of the blue and I just want our first date to be perfect, and I’m so nervous, and I’m going to stay nervous until I get you somewhere where I can kiss you in peace, which isn’t going to happen if I can’t find my bloody keys”
“You don’t need your keys for what I have in mind” Phil said turning towards her.
“Does it involve waiting patiently?” she asked
“No”
“Thank God” she replied and turned her head to kiss him.
Phil Marlow woke up exceptionally early and was exceptionally grumpy, which was quite unusual for him, but on this particular morning he was too grumpy for words and he wanted to cheer himself up at the earliest opportunity.
And the reason for his grumpiness was the firm of Shallowfield Solicitors, Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles, or more precisely Catherine Kimber the receptionist thereof.
His dealings at the Solicitors were concerning the settling of his late father’s estate which turned out to be quite protracted.
The particular Solicitor he was involved with was Linda Baxter, an attractive woman, tall and slender in her early thirties who wore a tailored business suit and spectacles, and she spoke in posh plummy tones, and had a sexy way of peering over the top of her spectacles which was very alluring.
But as attractive, glamorous, and alluring as she was with her posh voice and magnificent long legs she was way out of his league so he didn’t find her a distraction.
However Phil was on a mission to find a significant other to settle down with once his father’s affairs had been settled and he rather liked the look of the receptionist.
On his first visit he gazed lustily down her top at the quite pleasing vista restrained in a pink satin bra, which was a delightful surprise because her outer garments were very unremarkable, and when she realized he was staring down her top she quickly covered herself up and let out a rather disgusted exclamation, but then she smiled at him and blushed.
He may have thought her a straight laced prude, but he liked that, it had always turned him on, partly because of the challenge but more often than not because they turned out to be less straight laced beneath the façade.
So he returned her smile and asked
“Do you have anything with the address and phone number on?”
“Oh yes” she replied eagerly “I could give you one of my cards”
“Thank you….”
“Catherine” she said “Catherine Kimber”
“Thank you Catherine”
He wasn’t sure if he would ever call her but he had learned to keep his options open.
Phil thought that with regular visits to the offices he would get numerous opportunities to speak with her, but alas no.
And that was why he was grumpy because he had concluded his business with Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles, and he hadn’t asked her and nor had he phoned her.
So with the day beginning grumpily, he needed to find the courage to pick up the phone.
There were a number of local girls who had made it perfectly clear that they were willing and able but they weren’t really his type whatever that meant, but they were too pushy for his liking.
Even busty Belinda the gardener, who he had inherited so to speak from his father had given him the green light.
He had even considered going for the soft option of asking his ex-girlfriend Jenna Stimson out, things weren’t so bad with her, she was very nice, he could do a lot worse, and she didn’t want to break up in the first place.
So he took his phone from his pocket and was about to dial her number when he exclaimed
“What the hell are you doing? Her favourite colour is beige”
So without over thinking it he phoned the Solicitors
“Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles”
“Hello Catherine” he said “it’s Phil Marlow”
(Part 02)
He had considered going for the soft option of asking his ex-girlfriend Jenna Stimson out, things weren’t so bad with her, she was very nice, he could do a lot worse, and she didn’t want to break up in the first place.
So he took his phone from his pocket and was about to dial her number when he exclaimed
“What the hell are you doing? Her favourite colour is beige”
So without over thinking it he phoned the Solicitors
“Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles”
“Hello Catherine” he said “it’s Phil Marlow”
When he reached the building he went upstairs and stopped at the receptionist’s desk, which was deserted, and so he waited.
It was quite late in the day, late enough that almost everyone had left for the day.
He wasn’t there more than a few minutes before the cute blonde receptionist appeared surrounded by a cloud of freshly applied perfume.
Although in truth Phil was more interested in her rather than the perfume that surrounded her, but it was very pleasant nonetheless.
“Hello, you look lovely” he said and moved in for a kiss which he fully expected to be one of those air kiss affairs but Catherine had other ideas.
She planted a kiss straight on his lips and as soon as mouth met mouth her tongue engaged his own in oral combat and they wrapped themselves in a tender embrace.
He had wanted to kiss her the first moment he saw her and she was of similar mind but had thought the kiss would never materialise which was why she took it when it was offered.
“We have to stop” she said “Someone might see”
“Damn I was enjoying that” he said as he watched her adjusting her apparel.
“So was I” she admitted “shall we go”
They went down the stairwell towards the basement carpark but stopped half way down for another kiss which soon reignited passions flame, but when a stairwell door opened and closed either above or below she pushed him away and again straightened her clothes.
“Someone is going to see us” she said nervously
“Let’s go then” Phil said and took her hand and they ran down the stairs to the carpark.
When they reached her car Catherine fumbled for the car keys in her bag and failed.
“Your hands are shaking” he pointed out
“I know that’s your fault” she said and tipped the contents of her bag on the bonnet.
“Why?” he asked innocently
“You know why” she replied “because I thought you were never going to call and you did out of the blue and I just want our first date to be perfect, and I’m so nervous, and I’m going to stay nervous until I get you somewhere where I can kiss you in peace, which isn’t going to happen if I can’t find my bloody keys”
“You don’t need your keys for what I have in mind” Phil said turning towards her.
“Does it involve waiting patiently?” she asked
“No”
“Thank God” she replied and turned her head to kiss him.
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