Uncanny Love Tales – (12) The Phlebotomist and the Professor

 

Her full birth name was Hayley Harriet Hanson but that was before, at the tender age of 21, she made the regrettable decision to marry William Quimby, but after her disastrous marriage ended though she chose to remain Harriet Quimby as she rather liked the name, her ex-husband on the other hand remained a complete bastard.

In the years following her divorce she had not remarried or even thought of doing so.

She worked hard in a rewarding job, she had a supportive family and a large circle of friends, and she was content with that.

Harriet was not without admirers however and she had not exactly lived as a nun, she had had boyfriends but she had not actively sort a replacement for Mr Quimby, her philosophy was “what will be, will be”.

She was a phlebotomist by profession and proud of it but she was really tired of people saying “What’s a phlebotomist?”

And then having to explain her occupation to them, so she made the decision to reply, when asked what she did for a living, that she was a nurse and volunteered no further information, it was just simpler that way.

Which was a shame because she loved her job, and she really was proud to be a phlebotomist, she liked dealing with people and liked engaging with them and she was good at it.

Some of her colleagues favoured the stand-offish approach, keeping a dignified distance between themselves and the patients, but that was not Harriet’s way.

Harriet found the pleasant exchanges helped the day pass by, she couldn’t do it with everyone of course, some patients thought they were customers and that she was on a par with a shop girl, but they were few and far between.

 

Nathan Robinson was wearing a brown leather jacket and tan needle cords as he sat in the health centre waiting room amongst the sick and the lame, although he was neither.

He was 35 years old and never married, although he’d come close a couple of times, he was medium height, slim build and had thinning sandy hair and grey eyes.

He was however very nervous as he was sat waiting there for a blood test, not that he was squeamish where blood was concerned but he did hate needles.

 

“Mr Robinson” called a willowy young woman with bobbed dark brown hair, wearing a white uniform with red piping.

He stood up and followed her into a small clinical room.

“Good morning nurse” he said

“Hello Mr Robinson, but I’m not a nurse”

“Hello doctor?”

“No, I’m not a doctor either” she corrected him

“You’re not the cleaner, are you?” he asked

“No” she replied and laughed

“A vampire then?” he asked

“Don’t worry I’m not going to drain you” she reassured him “You look too pasty already”

“Really, I thought I was palely interesting” he offered in a hurt voice

He looked at her hand, she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring or any other significant rings for that matter, but what he was focusing on was that her ring less hand was holding a needle and he swallowed hard.

“You’re afraid of needles” she said

“I wouldn’t say I was afraid” he responded defensively although in truth he was Trypanophobic.

“What would you say then?” She asked

“I am merely wary of them” he insisted.

“Chicken” she said unsympathetically, she was well used to needle phobe’s and her easy manner and playful teasing would soon put him at his ease.

“Harsh” he responded still focusing on the needle

“Now if you don’t sit still I’ll have to take it from your jugular” she said menacingly

“So, you are a vampire” Nathan said

She ignored him and drew the first sample

“So, what’s the blood test for?” She asked

“Are you allowed to ask me that?” he asked

“No” she replied, “so what’s it for?”

“I have an infection”

“Urgh” she exclaimed feigning horror

“Not that kind of infection” he assured her

“Do I need to double glove?” she asked

“No it’s alright I don’t really have an infection” Nathan said

“Good” she said and drew another sample

“It’s just part of a general medical” he said

“Oh” she responded

 

After he’d left the room, she chuckled to herself as she remembered their exchange and she thought what a very pleasant man he was. 

 

Nathan himself was quite taken with the young willowy phlebotomist who’s easy many put his mind at rest to such a degree that he was able to take more than a moment or two to appreciate the loveliness of the lovely girl with the very large needle, but it was just over a week later when she saw him again.

Nathan was on his way to meet friends in Abbeyvale, and took a short cut through St Candida’s park as it was a nice day, and he saw a small group of young women sitting on the grass and he recognised one of them.

“Hello nurse Nosferatu” he called and made the sign of the cross when she turned around

“Oh hello chicken” she responded and made it sound like a term of endearment which wasn’t her intent, but she was not unhappy about it.

“Should a phlebotomist be out in the sunlight?” Nathan asked

“What’s a phlebotomist?” one of the group asked and Harriet shook her head and took it as her sign to leave.

She said her goodbyes and quickly caught up with Nathan who had gone ahead.

“Thanks for that” she said

“For what?” he asked

“For exposing me as a phlebotomist” she said

“Ay?” he exclaimed in confusion

“But you are a phlebotomist”

“I know” she said “but I hate the fact that I always have to explain it”

“Sorry” Nathan said

 

“So, what was your medical for?” Harriet asked him as they walked through St Candida’s park

“Blimey you’re even nosey when you’re off duty” Nathan responded

“Yes” Harriet replied, “So what’s it for?”

“Oh, I’m starting a new job next month so I decided I would get a full MOT before I started” he said

“And what do you do?” she asked

“I’m a University Professor” he said proudly

“A Professor?” Harriet replied; however she was a little impressed

“Aren’t you a little young?”

“Not in my field” he replied

“And I thought Professors were intelligent” she said

“And I thought nursing was the caring profession” he retorted 

“So, what are you the Professor of?” she enquired

“Music” Nathan replied

“Really, what kind?” she asked impressed

“My field of expertise is early 20^th century” he replied

“Like Puccini?” She said hopefully

“Like jazz” Nathan said

“Jazz? How disappointing, you got interesting for a second and then wham dull as ditch water again”

“I like jazz” he said defensively “Jazz is very exciting”

“And people study that at university?” she asked derisively

“Of course, as part of a rounded curriculum” he replied

“Do you play, or just teach?” she asked

“Yes” Nathan replied

“What instrument? The washboard?” She asked and laughed out loud with delight

“That’s skiffle, not jazz” he corrected her “Philistine”

“What then?” Harriet persisted

“Clarinet” Said Nathan

“Really? But that’s a proper instrument” she said shocked “Are you any good?”

“Well, I enjoy playing” he answered

“You’re really bad then” Harriet said and laughed

“Why not come and judge for yourself” he said

“When?” she asked

“Now” he replied “we’re playing a set at the Jazz Shack on Finchampton Street”

“Oh ok” she answered

 

After the gig, if you could call it that, because they only played two numbers, he joined her at her table.

“You were very good” she said “better than you led me to believe”

“Well thank you ma’am” he said in a false American accent

“But I still don’t like jazz” she said shooting him down

 

When it was time to go, he suggested

“Perhaps we can do it again”

“Oh, I don’t know about that” Harriet said

“Why not? I thought we had spent a very pleasant afternoon together” he stated

“We have absolutely nothing in common” Harriet retorted

“We share a sense of humour” he said

“That doesn’t count” she responded

“I think a good sense of humour is essential in a relationship if there is a prospect of someone seeing me naked” Nathan replied

“That’s not much of a prospect” Harriet said

“Come on Harriet” he said “what harm could it do”

Harriet was quiet for a moment then she said

“Ok I will come with you to the Jazz Shack to hear you play again, on one condition”

“Name it” he said with enthusiasm

“You have to come to the opera with me”

He went to speak but she silenced him with a look

“And I don’t mean Gilbert and Sullivan either”

“Puccini’s Madame Butterfly, one of the greatest pieces of early 20^th century music ever written” she said with authority

“It’s a date” he said

“Yes, I suppose it is” she said almost to herself

LOVER (CINQUAIN)

Lover

Warmly, Cosily

Holding, Comforting, Caressing,

The All Embracing Joy

Lover

INSEPARABLE ONCE # 2

 

We were once inseparable
Tied with the bonds of love
But when the day came
When bonds become restraints
Love melted into the ether
And the ties that bound
Turned inexorably to dust

IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME?

 

The years are passing me by

And another relationship has failed

What is wrong with me?

Why has this love affair derailed?

 

Why can I not hold onto love?

What kind of signal do I transmit?

What makes me so difficult to love?

Why can I not put my finger on it

 

So, I must move onto pastures new

Looking for the most elusive pray

Wishing for better luck this time

And that I will strike gold one day

 

Surely it is not too much to ask

That my love be returned in kind

But I won’t give up the search

I’ll keep looking and see what I find

 

I just have to keep believing

Keep the faith and I will soon see

The next one that I can love

And hope that they will love me

Snippets of Downshire Life – Holocaust Memorial Day

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 takes place in the southern town off Abbottsford which was the biggest in Downshire, its administrative capital and the seat of the Downshire government.

It was also a place of learning thanks to the Downshire University, is home to Abbottsford Town football club, and is a Cathedral City, and Abbottsford Cathedral was the location of a multidenominational memorial service to mark Holocaust Memorial Day and Benjamin Ozols was driving down to the City from his home in in the village of Tipton in the northern most part of the county especially for the occasion.

It was a trip he had made every year for as long as he could remember and one which he would continue to make in the future, but this particular year the trip was even more special than usual.

 

His earliest memory of the trip to Abbottsford for the memorial was when he was 6 or 7 years old.

He went with a group of Ozols headed by Ben’s grandfather, Isaac, who had escaped to Britain on the kinder transport and was subsequently the only member of the Ozols family to escape the Holocaust.

But over the years the numbers dwindled and now there was only him, forty years old and no living relatives.

He was so angry when his cousin Isaac and his family were killed in a car crash and he found himself to be the last of his line, the last Ozols, and his anger cost him dearly, his marriage fell apart, friendships shattered and his business suffered.

He even lost his faith, though Rabbi Wolfstein never gave up on him and suggested he should travel to Abbottsford with him so he could talk to others, either in his position or who felt like him and listen to their testimonies.

After six months in a self-destructive spiral he finally took his Rabbi’s advice and agreed to travel with him to Abbottsford and hopefully find peace and reconcile his angry feelings.

 

Outside the Cathedral Hanni Badenhorst stood wrapped up against the cold, but she was happy, despite the bitter cold and the solemnity of the occasion.

She too had suffered a bereavement but hers had been in the previous year when her grandfather died after a long illness.

Hanni was very close to him and of all the grandchildren, she was his favourite, and he left her everything, not that it amounted to much.

He didn’t own his own property, so the onerous task of clearing out his rented cottage in Northchapel, fell on her shoulders and it was while she was clearing out the loft that she made the discovery that would change her life forever.

 

It was a small leather suitcase in the furthest, darkest and dustiest corner of the attic.

She was immediately curios when she got it under the light and brushed the cobwebs away but that curiosity doubled when she discovered it was locked.

Hanni climbed down the ladder with the case in one hand and took it to the kitchen and set it on the table.

She rummaged through the kitchen drawer for something suitable for the task and set about the task of popping the locks.

After twenty minutes she was muttering and cursing

“They always make it look easier than this in the films”

A minute later the first lock snapped open and two minutes after that the second one was open.

She put down the knife and slowly opened the case and was quite frankly disappointed when she saw it was full of old documents, photographs and newspaper clippings, and the thing that she noticed immediately was that they were in a variety of languages.

Hanni was bilingual and spoke and read German, French and Spanish, and could make herself understood in several other languages.

So she made herself a drink and started to sort the documents into some sort of order. 

Once she had everything separated into half a dozen piles she began reading them in more detail and within an hour it was revealed that her Great Grandfather Otto Badenhorst was an officer in the SS.

That was an uncomfortable discovery but she consoled herself with the notion that not everyone in the SS was there willingly, but then she read on and it soon became clear that he was not only a willing member but was an energetic one, especially in the persecution of the Jews in Alsace, as noted repeatedly in his handwritten journals, and he was hung for his part in the Holocaust at Nuremburg after the second World War.

 

When she had finished reading she sobbed for a full hour and then when she had gathered herself she phoned her father, to tell him about her grim discovery.

“He was supposed to have destroyed them years ago”

“What? You mean you knew?” she asked in disbelief

“Yes, I knew” he snapped “and I told him to burn the lot, and now I’m telling you to do the same thing”

“I’m not going to do that” she said, and a bitter argument ensued and it seemed by the end of it that bridges had been well and truly burned.

After disconnecting the phone she had a resolute expression on her face and a determination in her heart to do something, but what?

There was no getting the genie back in the bottle and she couldn’t un see what she had seen and it was not in her nature to brush things under the carpet, she liked to meet things head on.

 

Hanni was a History Professor at Abbottsford University but her field was the medieval period so 20^th Century was a little modern for her, but she knew someone who would find it right up their Street.

Matheus Trojanovich was the curator of the Downshire Museum of Modern History and he had a particular interest in the Holocaust as he had three ancestors who survived the camps and seventeen who didn’t.

 

Because she had broken the locks on the suitcase she had wrap it in a heavy duty plastic bag and then she took it to Gracefield where Matheus lived.

“Hanni!” he said after opening the door, “it’s wonderful to see you”

“Well I hope you still think that after you’ve seen this” she said and indicated the package she was carrying.

 

They sat in the kitchen, Hanni drinking coffee and Matheus sorting through the documents, the conversation was sparse because the former was nervous and he was totally engrossed, and when they got to the end she said.

“I’m sorry”   

“You have nothing to apologize for” he said and squeezed her hand.

“This is an amazing collection”

“My dad wants it to be destroyed, he thought it had been, and he was really angry that Grandad kept it, but he clearly had a conscience” she said

“I think that’s why he left everything to me, because he knew I wouldn’t bury it”

“So what do you want me do with it?” he asked

“I want it to be used” she said “I want it to mean something”

“Well it’s such a complete collection and quite unique” he said “But…”

“But?”

“If it goes on public display then it will be in the public domain” he said

“So?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, it’s what I want” she said

 

After entrusting the documents to Matheus, Hanni returned to her academic world and it was in the following year before the subject of the Holocaust came up again.

It happened one Sunday morning when she was enjoying the papers and the phone rang.

“Matheus” she said “How are you?”

He responded that he was very well and enthused that the exhibit had been very well received by his fellows and it had been shared around the globe to interested parties.

“So much so that we are featuring it at this summer’s Modern History Exhibition and at the seminar at the Regents Hotel”

“The Regents?” she said “I’m impressed”

“Your story is the feature exhibit” he said

“That’s great” she said “I hope it goes well”

“It would go even better if you were one of the speakers”

“No, no, no” she responded

“It will help your profile” he added

“It was never my intention to benefit personally from the misery my Great Grandfather caused” she snapped

“Your presence will give the exhibition context, you are greatly admired for what you did”

“I want no admiration, recognition, veneration or respect, for what I did” she insisted “I did what I did because it was the right thing to do, the fact that it has brought it back to the public’s attention is enough for me” 

“At least come to the Museum and see what else is to be included in the exhibition” he suggested

“I think you’ll be impressed, but if you still don’t want to be involved after you’ve seen it then I’ll say no more about it”

“Well…”

“You know you want to”

‘You’re not going to shut up until I agree, are you? She said

“No I’m not”

“Oh ok then” she conceded

 

It was around the same time that Hanni had agreed to participate in the in the special exhibition at the Modern History Museum on the Holocaust, that Benjamin Ozols told Rabbi Wolfstein he would go with him to Abbottsford to see it, what he didn’t know was that there was particular focus on Alsace, which was where the Ozols lived, if he had done so it would have got his attention,

 

The exhibition was a great success and was well attended, and apart from the exhibits on display there were also visual and recorded testimonies of survivors of the Holocaust, many of them from Alsace and Lorraine, and Benjamin was in tears as he watched the grainy pictures and listened to the words.

 

In addition to the exhibition at the museum there were also supporting seminars being held at the Abbottsford Regent Hotel, and as Benjamin wiped his eyes Rabbi Wolfstein told him about them.

“It will give you an opportunity to talk to others who feel you and there are some good speakers who are sharing their experiences of being heirs to victims and perpetrators”

“Perpetrators?” he asked angrily and the Rabbi explained Hanni’s role.

When Benjamin heard that the great granddaughter of a man who was pivotal to the extermination of the Jewish inhabitants of Alsace and by extension his own ancestors he was enraged, and Rabbi Wolfstein had to physically restrain him from running to the hotel to confront her.

“This whole exhibition is as a direct result of her donating the very documents that have so incensed you, because she wanted it known that her family had blood on their hands and she further wanted them washed in the cold light of day” the Rabbi explained

“She has brought your story to the fore”

At which point Benjamin completely broke down and sobbed uncontrollably on the Rabbi’s shoulder.

 

When he finally composed himself they walked calmly out of the museum in the direction of the Hotel and when they reached the Regent, they walked inside as people were filing into the largest of the function rooms, so they joined on the end.

 

Once inside they found the room full to capacity and a polite ripple of applause went around the room as Hanni Badenhorst walked in and took her place at the lectern.

She was 37 years old and was still a very attractive woman, tall and slim, soberly dressed befitting her academic standing with her straight blonde hair in a French plait, and that blonde hair along with her blue eyes betrayed her Arian heritage.

 

She stood at the lectern and smiled to the audience before her and introduced herself just before the lights dimmed and she began her presentation, which involved an introduction to her great grandfather and graphic images of the German campaign to commit genocide, finally the lights came back up and Hanni began her concluding oration.

“I feel ashamed for two very different reasons, firstly that a man of my blood, bearing my family name, participated, and relished in that participation, in the removal and transportation of thousands of Jews, in the full knowledge that he was sending them to their deaths, but secondly that the surviving members of his family, who left Germany and settled in England, chose to keep his crimes a secret, not only from the wider world but also the subsequent generations of his family”

Hanni paused to take a drink before continuing

“My own father told me it was not my secret to tell, and that the dark stain on our family name should be kept hidden, but I believe you must shine a light into every corner where darkness dwells, because if not, the darkness will multiply and once again attempt to extinguish the light of reason, thank you”

Rapturous applause followed her final word and a question and answer session followed when the applause had subsided.

The Q and A lasted for 15 minutes until Rabbi Wolfstein asked

“What would you say Professor, if you were to meet a descendent of the Alsace Jews?” 

“I would apologize unreservedly” she responded before adding

“Is there one here, today?”

The Rabbi nodded and she scanned the crowd expectantly and then Benjamin stepped forward and approached the lectern and Hanni moved from her place to meet him and there was absolute silence in the room and a palpable anticipation as if they were all holding their breaths.  

“I am Benjamin Ozols and I am the last living descendent of the Alsace Ozols” he said proudly and Hanni responded thus

“I apologized for the actions of my Great grandfather for his heinous crimes and for those of his descendants for hiding the truth and in their receipt their implied denial of the events in Alsace, I do this unreservedly, as a gentile, as a Badenhorst, and as a human being”

When she stopped speaking the silence continued until Benjamin nodded his acceptance and then embraced her and the silence was broken by enthusiastic applause.

 

Over the following few months a friendship developed between the unlikely couple which had deepened by the turn of the year and turned into something very different by the time January came around when Hanni Badenhorst was stood wrapped up against the cold outside Abbottsford Cathedral, and she was happy, despite the bitter cold and the solemnity of the occasion.

It was solemn because Abbottsford Cathedral was the location of a multidenominational memorial service to mark Holocaust Memorial Day and happy because Benjamin Ozols was driving down to the City for the occasion from his home in in the village of Tipton in the northern most part of the county.

It was a trip he had made every year for as long as he could remember and one which he would continue to make in the future, but this particular year the trip was even more special than usual.

 

When he arrived on the plaza he felt elated when he saw her standing at the top of the steps and when she looked across the plaza and saw him she smiled broadly and rushed down the steps to meet him and they hugged before passionately kissing. 

The Clerembeax Palace Hotel and Spa – Elementary

 The beautiful Downshire village of Clerembeax St Giles was situated to the west of Abbeyvale located between Grace Hill and Bushy Down and on the outskirts was the Clerembeax Palace Hotel and Spa.

It was once the home The Clerembeax’s, who 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.

The current owner was Yvonne Labuschagne, who decided to open it as a Hotel and Spa.

The Spa was a good attraction, but it was crucial for them to maintain a high occupancy rate, however things were tough in the Hotel trade with the success of Travelodge, Premier Inn and Holiday Inn Express and so places like the Palace needed to offer something extra to attract the guests, apart from the Spa. 

So, they put on novelty weekends, such as “Murder Mysteries”, which was what brought Dr Ryan Meakes to Clerembeax and when he arrived at the Palace for the Murder Mystery Weekend he found himself paired up with a Solicitor from Abbottsford, Penny Panagakos, because although she was staying at the hotel with her husband George he had no interest in participating.

And as they played the game and worked their way around the hotel he quickly came to appreciate just how attractive she was, her body was nicely toned and she had a nice shape and overall was in very good order for a woman just turned forty, and Ryan had a well-practiced eye when it came to women, but despite his penchant for all things feminine he had always tried to avoid fishing in someone else’s pond, no matter how attractive the body of water might be and the lovely Penny was married to a police Inspector and if it was the same man that she arrived with at the Hotel he was also a very large man.

So, on largely moral grounds, tinged with a little fear, he confined his interest in her to lusty perusal and no more.

But halfway through dinner on Saturday Night the goalposts moved when George was summoned back to Abbottsford, following a serious incident, on which he could give no further details, and so he excused himself, kissed his wife and left.   

 

The Murder Mystery continued to play out during the meal as actors performed little scenarios to give the players additional clues and following dinner the teams went off in search of further clues and to question suspects.

Although Ryan didn’t know it at the time George being called away was a game changer, but he soon found out when he and Penny stepped into a stairwell on the second floor at her behest.

Ever since they met he had looked at her with lustful eyes while she remained demure but the moment the fire door closed behind them there was no hint of the reserved and modest Policeman’s Wife he had seen earlier as she stood beside him smiling before taking his hand and almost dragged him towards her and kissed him very passionately.

It was a long languorous kiss with darting tongues of passion and his hands caressed up and down her voluptuous frame repeatedly, exploring every inch of the landscape from her neck to her buttocks, before she broke away and started up the stairs with his hand in hers.

He paused briefly on the bottom stair, although he already knew the answer, he asked

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yes” she replied and began pulling him upstairs, so he followed her up at pace and on arriving on the third floor, where the more expensive accommodations were, he was struck with the luxurious contrast from the floors below, but his mind didn’t dwell on the décor.

Penny used her key card and opened the door and continued dragging him until they were in the bedroom and after closing the door she went and stood by the four-poster bed.

At that point Ryan found himself in a quandary, because although he was undoubtedly a philanderer, who might even occasionally sleep with married women, he did have some standards and one of his rules was never to do it in the husband’s bed.

Now technically as it was a Hotel it wasn’t the marital bed, but it was as near as damn it, and he was about to suggest they relocate to his bachelor room when she slipped her dress off to reveal a vision in lace and silk.

“What the hell” he thought “it’s not a hard and fast rule”

Snippets of Downshire Life – Australia Day

 

Emma Harding had enjoyed a successful career in the Downshire Constabulary, due to her diligence and hard work and she had reached the rank of Detective Sergeant.

And she had done so largely without regrets, but she had arrived in the middle of her thirties with her integrity, looks and figure intact, but she still lived the existence of a singleton.

She had friends a plenty and an abundance of family whom by and large she adored but the one thing that had eluded her was a lasting romantic attachment.

It certainly wasn’t by design or for the want of trying but it had eluded her regardless, although there was a man she was very attracted to, who she met on a recent investigation, but as he was a Major in the Downshire Light Infantry and moved in very different circles, so she was unlikely to come across him again.

So, she resigned herself to the fact that she was never going to realise any of the romantic expectations she may once have had.

As a result, it was for the love of her family that had her on the road to Millmoor in late January.

 

Millmoor was in the northeast corner of Downshire and was once a Military town, well actually it was always an army town, until the defence cuts tore out its heart.

Now the quarters had been refurbished and sold to eager would be home owner’s, the old parade grounds had been dug up and replaced with new shoe-box like dwellings in the modern style and the garages, workshops, barracks and stores buildings were now occupied by small business’s.

Millmoor had however retained the Aerospace Britannia Company which was a huge employer in the area, but the town missed the peripheral business which a military establishment brings to a town so consequently the town of Millmoor was not as prosperous as it had once been, their former Football League club had gone bankrupt and now languished two divisions below their former rivals Abbottsford Town.

Having said all that it was not an unpleasant place to be and the people did not live in abject poverty and it had attracted an influx of newcomers including a sizable community of Australians, and that was why Emma was headed there because she and the rest of the Harding clan were from Australia and it was a big clan.

But family was only part of the reason she was on the road to Millmoor with a car full of relatives, and the other being Australia Day.

 

Emma was a fiery character and her tall slender frame in full flight with her flame red trailing behind her with her sparkling green eyes was an exhilarating site and the only thing more exhilarating was her driving, although in truth for everyone else it was more terrifying than exhilarating.

Her Cousin Gary was in the passenger side and he had his left hand on the door handle and his right hand was gripping the underside of his seat, and his eyes were screwed tight shut.

Gary’s father in law Al was in the middle of the back seat and had braced himself with one hand on each of the front seats and his eyes were wide open and filled with terror as this was his first experience of his nieces driving having just landed in England.

The only passenger not being terrorized was Emma’s sister Donna and that was because she was asleep but then she was immune to her sisters driving because she was worse.

Emma turned the wheel violently to the left and shot across both lanes of the dual carriage way and onto the slip road, sign posted Millmoor; and Al suppressed a scream, it was a dangerous manoeuvre to attempt at the best of times but when she did it, it was lashing down and visibility was poor.

After several more stomach-churning manoeuvres Emma indicated and turned into Montgomery road and then right into Churchill Court, where the small neat houses were arranged in tidy formations like platoons of soldiers on a parade ground and then she screeched the car to a halt, half on the pavement, in front of a small parade of seven shops, the middle one being an Indian takeaway.

“Donna!” she called “Time to get your girlfriend”

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just my friend” she retorted as she got out of the car and strode towards the Indian.

Emma smiled to herself as she watched her go inside, thinking that nobody had noticed she and Claire and how she was blissfully unaware that everyone in the family knew they were a couple.

Al and Gary struggled out of the car, once the latter had regained the use of his legs he turned to Al.

“You know I think she’s getting better.” He said encouragingly patting Al on the back.

“Definitely”

And then the two of then leant against the car oblivious to the fact they were getting wet.

 

When Donna and Claire reappeared, they got in the car and Gary and his father in law reluctantly did the same and then Emma drove them to the party.

The Australia Day celebrations were being held at the Millmoor Country Club for the Australian expat community of the town and its environs.

It was always a busy affair, well organized, but very informal, no dress code, no structured dining, just turn up, eat drink and have fun. 

Emma was wearing jeans and a sweater that suited her figure beautifully and her red hair blazed about her neck as she mingled among the crowd, catching up with friends and family.

After a couple of hours, she had made steady progress around the room when someone she wasn’t expecting to see there approached. 

“Hello” he said, “its Detective Sergeant Harding isn’t it?"

“Yes” she replied “Emma”

Despite the fact she had only met him on a handful of occasions, and brief ones at that, she recognized him instantly even though he was out of uniform.

“Hello Major”

“Call me Marcus” he said “or Marc”

“No uniform tonight Marc?” she asked and then thought

“I loved you in the uniform”

And she inexplicably blushed like a schoolgirl.

“Are you here with someone?” she asked

“Yes” he replied, and she was very disappointed.

“I’m here with my Captain” he continued.

“Oh, I see" Emma said and hoped his Captain was man, then she panicked and thought “I hope he’s not gay”

She put that thought out of her head it wasn’t important, the Major was "alone" and that was.

“I was sorry that you had to leave before the end of the investigation” she said

“Yes, me too” he agreed “But I had to get back to HQ”

“It was rather unexpected” she said

“Was it to do with the helicopter crash in Afghanistan?”

“It was” he replied sadly

“I’m sorry” She said, “is the regiment back in Nettlefield now?”

“It is”

“So, you won’t have to rush off again before you’ve eaten something” Emma said

“Well I’m good for a couple of hours” he replied

“Why? Is the Regiment deploying again?” she asked

"No" he replied “Manoeuvres”

“When?"  

“Tomorrow” he said, and she was disappointed

“You can’t say where I suppose?”

“No, I’m afraid not” he agreed

A comfortable silence settled around them and then he asked

“Would you like to dance?”

“Love to” she replied

Marc took her hand and led her to the dance floor and they danced through a selection of slow standards, the titles were unimportant to them and to be honest they weren’t listening, they were just enjoying holding each other and they would have continued indefinitely but Marc was tapped on the shoulder.

He reluctantly relinquished his hold on Emma and turned around

“Sorry sir” a man said “it’s time to go”

“Ok Captain” he said “I’ll be right there”

The man nodded and walked towards the door and Marc said

“I’m afraid I need to go”

“I understand” 

“I’m so glad we ran in to each other, it was so nice seeing you again” he said, “Perhaps when I return from manoeuvres I could call you?”

“Yes” Emma said enthusiastically “I’d like that very much”

The music stopped, and they smiled at each other briefly and then he was gone.

But he was going to call her.

“Result” she said out loud and continued her mingling.