IN THE GAME OF LOVE

 

In the game of love, you know all the right moves

With Terpsichorean precision, purposeful and bold

You are mistress of passion, keeper of my heart

If they awarded medals for love you’d get the gold

Mornington-By-Mere – (94) The Old Flame

 

Pilot Officer Ronald Carrington and Land Army girl Fiona Blake met twice on the journey from their home towns when they were traveling to Mornington, once on the train between Nettlefield and Purplemere and again on the bus as they crossed the Finchbottom Vale.

And by the time they reached the quaint picturesque chocolate box  idyll, with its Manor House, 12th Century Church, Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, Schoolhouse, a River and a Mere, they had fallen in love.

As a result they made a date for the following Saturday which culminated with a good night kiss by the gate of Manor Farm.

 

After that first date at the Old Mill Inn they saw each other as often as her work on the farm and his sorties with the RAF permitted but at the end of April his squadron were notified that they were on the move to an undisclosed destination.

When he met Fiona that evening he was wearing a grave expression

“What’s wrong?” she asked with concern

“I have just received some bad news” he informed her

“Why what’s happened?” she asked even more concerned

“The squadron has been posted” he said

“Where to?”

“We don’t know” he replied “We won’t know until the day we leave”

“When is that?” she asked flatly

“In two days” Ronald replied

“Oh God so soon” she exclaimed

“But no one is allowed off base after ten o’clock tonight” he said

“So tonight is your last night” Fiona said sadly

“I’m afraid so, but I will come back to you” he assured her and she threw herself into his arms

“I love you so much” he said

“I love you too” 

“I will write to you every day” he promised “but you might not get them as often, and they might be out of sequence when you receive them depending on where they’re posted from”

“I’ll write everyday too” she said and then she began to cry

And he suspect there would be more tears, after all they wouldn’t be seeing each other again for goodness knew how long.

 

When she had dried her eyes she said

“Let’s not go to the pub, I don’t want to share you with anyone else on our last night together”

So they walked slowly around the village just like they did on their first date.

 

And afterwards they walked back to the farm hand in hand and as he expected there were more tears by the gate and when she was composed enough to say a proper goodbye they kissed and she walked straight into the farmhouse without looking back.  

 

He kept his word and wrote to her everyday even though it was difficult with the amount of training missions they were flying in what was the preparation for D-Day, but he promised her he would so he did and posted them whenever he could.

It became more difficult once they crossed the channel and her letters to him, which arrived as regular as clockwork, became more sporadic once he reached France and by October they had stopped altogether.

Despite her letters drying up he continued to write but only once a week, then one a month and by February of 45 he stopped. 

 

He returned to Mornington in August of 1945 as a Squadron Leader and his first port of call was to Manor Farm to see Fiona but Mrs. Hargrave told him that she had left the farm and the Land Army twelve months earlier after her father was killed in an air raid and she went home to look after her mother.

He asked if she had left a forwarding address, but she hadn’t, and the lady of the house said she had a box full of unread letters and he recognized them as his.    

 

He had spent the three weeks since he learned of his posting, hoping he could reconnect with Fiona and get to the bottom of why she stopped writing.

But after going to the farm he was faced with the fact that he would never see her again.

 

After 3 months in Mornington he was sent on temporary secondment to RAF Millmoor which was a promotion of sorts because at Millmoor he would be flying jets.   

After a month at Millmoor he got a call from one of his old Squadron who was going to be in Nettlefield a few days before Christmas. 

“We get in on Saturday morning” William said “so we could have lunch maybe, you me and Crispin”

“Ok great” Ronald replied

So on Saturday morning, a week later, he caught the train at Millmoor station.

 

He had planned to meet up with William and Crispin in Nettlefield at a restaurant called “The Boars Head” at half past twelve on Saturday, and he had left the base five minutes later than he intended and thought he was going to miss his train but for some unknown reason he not only caught the train, but he arrived in Nettlefield half an hour early.

So he stood outside the station staring at his watch and scratching his head trying to figure out where he had gone wrong with his calculations.

But it was snowing hard and he was feeling the cold so he decided to have a beer at the nearest watering hole, which happened to be “The Grey Friar Inn”.

 

As it was almost Christmas the pub was bedecked with the best that post war Downshire could conjure up, namely paper chains, holly and balloons.

It was a very welcoming pub despite the understated festive décor, there was a roaring fire in the grate, and a middle aged man was playing Christmas songs on the piano and there was Mornington ale on tap.

He ordered a pint and sat at the nearest table to the fire and smiled at the tableaux before him of the mixed clientele of Christmas shoppers and workers at lunch.

The music was good, but then he thought you couldn’t go wrong with Christmas music, and the pianist was good.

 

It was when he was halfway down his pint that he spotted a familiar face and he had to do a double take.

The girl was short with a nice little figure, and long straight brown hair and a rather attractive, if heavily freckled face, lovely hazel eyes, a cute nose and a thin-lipped smile.

 

Ronald was halfway down his pint that he spotted a familiar face and he had to do a double take.

The girl was short with a nice little figure, and long straight brown hair and a rather attractive, if heavily freckled face, lovely hazel eyes, a cute nose and a thin-lipped smile.

 

She was dressed differently from the last time they met, her summer dress had been replaced by a dark green tweed skirt and a brown cable knit sweater, tan coloured stockings encasing her shapely legs and she had brown brogues on her tiny feet.

He watched her move from table to table collecting empties and putting them on the bar.

She was an altogether more confident girl than the shy little mouse he first met on the train to Purplemere,

 

But although he had fallen in love with her, a love that was clearly still alive, judging by the effect that seeing her had had on him, there was still the question as to why she had stopped writing to him.    

He was desperate to get up and walk to the bar and speak to her but he feared his legs might not carry him so instead he called out.

“Fiona? Fiona Blake?”

“Yes” she answered and as she turned towards him recognition dawned on her face and she smiled

“Ronald” she said and walked over towards him.

“Hello” he said

“Ronald” she responded

 

Fiona had mixed feelings when she saw him, because she still loved him but she was also still hurt that he hadn’t written back to her after  she left Mornington even though she wrote to him half a dozen times explaining why she left and where she had gone.

Of course what she didn’t know was that after D-Day there was a back log in the mail supply to frontline units and it was several weeks before it got on its way, unfortunately one of the Dakota’s ferrying the sacks across the channel was shot down and crashed into the sea, and Fiona’s letters along with it.

 

Wearing half a smile she walked towards him and asked

“Why didn’t you write?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

“I did” he said “I wrote everyday as I promised, until it became clear that you had stopped”

“I didn’t get them all if you did” she pointed out

“Well when I went to Manor Farm Mrs. Hargrave showed me a box full of my letters, which were delivered after you left” he explained

“But why?” she asked “Why didn’t you send it to Heathervale?”

“What’s Heathervale?”

“That’s where I live” she snapped “I wrote and told you that”

“I never got that letter” he said and she went pale and sat down heavily on a chair

“I don’t know what to say, I thought you had just lost interest in me”

“Never” he said “Not for an instant”

“I’m sorry” she said in her soft mousy voice.

“FIONA! Customers!” the landlord barked

“OK!” she snapped “I have to get back to work”

 

“So it would seem” he said and then looked at his watch “oh God! I have to go”

“What? No, don’t go” she implored “We need to talk”

“I have to, I’m meeting William and Crispin, they’re only in Nettlefield for a few hours” he said drained his glass and stood up

“I’ll come back later”

“I finish at seven” Fiona said

“Great I’ll see you then” He said, smiled and left and Fiona watch him leave with tears welling in her eyes.

 

Ronald reached “The Boars Head” at half past one on the dot only to find the other two were late, which left him time to dwell on the meeting with Fiona, until the other two sauntered in fifteen minutes later.

“Sorry we’re late” Crispin said, “my fault I’m afraid, my train was delayed”

 

It was a wonderful reunion and an exceptionally nice meal considering the post war shortages but it was the company that made it so enjoyable.

Ronald enjoyed it so much that he didn’t have time to think about Fiona and before he knew it the afternoon had gone.

When they left the restaurant it was almost five o’clock as they headed to the station.

It was snowing heavily and when they got there they found that no trains were running south, but William and Crispin, who were heading north, managed to get on the last train running.

After they said their goodbyes he tried the taxi rank but there were no cabs to be found so after he had met Fiona again he would be stranded in Nettlefield.

 

He walked to the “Grey Friar Inn” and went to the reception and managed to secure their last vacant room.

It was a few minutes after five when he was handed the key for room six and as the rather gruff receptionist returned to the bar a small figure wrapped up against the cold, came through the door from the noisy lounge bar and stopped dead when they caught sight of him.

“Ronald” she said, her voice muffled by her scarf.

“Is that Fiona under all that?” he asked

She didn’t speak but nodded.

“Where are you off to?” he queried

“I’ve got to get home,” she said

“I thought we needed to talk” he pointed out

“We do and I want to but I need to get home” Fiona assisted 

“There aren’t any trains,” he told her

“What? To Heathervale?” she asked urgently

“To anywhere” he replied

“And there are no taxis either”

 “Oh damn,” Fiona exclaimed

“I have to try” she said, “I’d like to stay, but I have to try”

“Ok” he said “I’ll walk with you”

She nodded and then they walked out into the snowy night,

 

They passed the empty taxi rank on the way and when they reached the station they found it was closed and Fiona turned towards him and put her face against his chest and began to cry.

“I”

“Cant”

“Get”

“Home” she said between sobs

Inside his head he said

“Well I did tell you that”

But saying it out loud would not have helped the situation so he just thought it and made sympathetic noises instead.

“All the trains are cancelled,” she said

“I know,” he thought

“And there are no taxis”

“I told you that as well,” he thought

After a few moments he asked

“What’s at home that you are so desperate to get home for?”

He was certain it wasn’t a sweetheart and he was right.

“My mum” she answered

“For God’s sake” he thought “you’re in your twenties, you’re a big girl now”

Out loud he just said

“Oh?”

And she explained that the air raid that killed her father also paralyzed her mother and Fiona looked after her.

She worked all day in at the pub in Nettlefield but she was at home mornings and evenings to tend to her mum.

Ronald felt bad when he heard her explanation.

“I have to try and get home” Fiona said

“But it’s just not possible” he said “is there anyone in the village who could check on her”

“Yes, Mrs. Rooney” she replied “But I can’t ask her because she doesn’t have a phone”

“No, but Warrant Officer Coleman does” Ronald said

“Who?”

“Former WO Coleman at Mornington Field is now Police Sgt Coleman in the village of Heathervale” he said “come on let’s find a phone box”

 

The nearest phone box was just across the street so they ran hand in hand across the road and squeezed into it, and Ronald phoned Sgt Coleman and after a minute or two of reminiscence he explained the reason for the call and the nature of the emergency and the Sgt promised he would dispatch his PC out into the snow to Mrs. Rooney’s.

 

“Thanks George” he said and hung up the phone

“Thank you” she said and hugged him

“That’s ok”

“What now?” she asked expectantly

“He’s going to ring the “Grey Friar” when he has news” he replied

“Why there?” she asked

“I have a room” he replied “we can stay there tonight, and we can set off early tomorrow morning”

“I can’t spend the night with you” she said with horror

“It’s ok, you can have the bed” Ronald assured her “There won’t be any impropriety, I promise”

“Ok” she said meekly as she gazed up at him and he kissed her.

 

They got back to the “Grey Friar” and weren’t able to go straight to the room as the rather gruff receptionist he’d seen earlier, who was Mrs. Cleary, the Landlords wife, was behind the counter so they went into the bar and ordered drinks, but they didn’t stay long as it was very loud and raucous, so they quickly drank up and as soon as she saw Mrs. Cleary walk into the bar Fiona knew that reception would be unattended so she discreetly took the key for room six from Ronald, slipped out of the bar and sneaked up to the room and he followed five minutes later, but was stopped in his tracks by grumpy Mrs. Cleary.

“Squadron leader!”

“Yes Mrs. Cleary” he said 

“Telephone” she snapped

 

When he got to room six he found Fiona sitting on the end of the bed still wearing her outdoor clothes

At first glance the room was a bit small and dingy but on reflection he thought it was better than some of the billets in France and Belgium he’d stayed in after D-Day.

Fiona was looking rather glum but he had some news that would cheer her up, because it was Sgt Rooney on the phone to say that Mrs. Rooney had been contacted and she was only too happy to oblige, and to tell Fiona not to worry.

 

As promised he let Fiona have the bed and he spent the night in an armchair but neither of them slept as they talked the night away.

Saying all the things they had said before in letters that had gone unread.

 

The next morning, although physically and mentally they were collectively, a spent force, they had never felt more alive as they had found each other again, and the happiness that went along with that reunion.

But as happy as she was that the man she loved was back in her life she was eager to get back to Heathervale to see her mum.

The heavy snow of the day before had given way to rain during the night so they thought the trains would be running some kind of service, the only problem was getting her out of his room unseen. 

So Ronald went down the stairs first and distracted Mrs. Cleary while Fiona slipped out unseen into the street then they walked to the station together.

 

Although the station was open and trains were running there was a greatly reduced service due to the previous day’s cancellations, which was going to result in a rather lengthy wait on the platform.

He left her looking at the revised timetable while he went and got the tickets, and when he returned she said

“There’s a train going south in ten minutes, but I’ve got a longer wait for a train to Heathervale”

“That’s ok because I’m coming with you” Ronald said

“You don’t have to do that” she said

“I know, but I’m not letting you get away from me again without knowing where to find you” he said

“Don’t worry you’re mine now, forever” Fiona said and they kissed

THEN AND ONLY THEN

 

I will drop a grain of sand into the desert

I will cry a teardrop into the ocean blue

I will blow a kiss into a hurricane

To prove my love, this is what I do

If you find that grain of sand, that teardrop

Or that kiss then that is when I’ll stop loving you

Mornington-By-Mere - (93) Alma’s Eyes

When the Mornington Estate exercised its option to purchase Mornington Field from the MOD it also acquired all the buildings and infrastructure on the airfield itself as well as 29 houses in the village formally used as quarters for military personnel.

Plans were immediately drawn up to optimize the newly acquired assets the moment the property was formally handed over on the 1st of June.

The guardians of the estate were the St George family the head of which is Baron Gabriel St George.

His architect Scott Collier was tasked with designing appropriate conversions to maximize the potential returns, and Ray Walker

Who dealt with all thing estate maintenance wise was responsible for getting the old Air force housing stock occupied ASAP,

Ray worked tirelessly to that end to have not just the first six houses ready within the month as originally promised, but eight, which were handed over on the 6th of July, two days earlier than forecast. .

Gabriel was then able to instruct Lyndon-Sanders Properties of Shallowfield to find tenants.

Priority was to be given to local people or people with ties to the area or those who worked in some capacity for the estate such as agriculture and the brewery. 

Other than that they were to be rented with the only condition being that it had to be the tenant’s primary residence.

Gabriel was always conscious of creating a ghost town of professionals who live and work in Town all week and only return to the village on the weekend.

 One such person was Alma Fuentes who was a physiotherapist at the Dancingdean Health Centre in Shallowfield who worked out of the Mornington Surgery one day a week.

Alma lived at number 8 The Close and she was the only single occupancy, everyone else had a family or a partner and children and she wanted that, she had always wanted that but now she lived among so many children she wanted it even more.

She was a tiny Spanish woman who looked like a breath of wind would blow her away but looks could be very deceptive as she was as strong as an ox.

 

When she worked in Shallowfield she would go across the road to the café for her lunch.

Paul Larkin sat drinking black coffee alone in Addison’s café just killing some time and he noticed her instantly as she entered, and he was powerless to resist the movement of his eyes, as like magnets they were drawn towards the striking young woman's and her stunning beauty, her hair appeared black as a raven's wing as it caressed the dark caramel skin of her shoulders, but with the sun shining through the fine strands they betrayed its true brunette nature.

But out of the sun her hairs dark lustre framed the simple beauty of her face, which he studied as he took another sip.
Firstly her full lips quivered and then broadened into a smile, as he admired the delicate curve of her small nose and the hypnotic depth of her dark brown eyes, which looked back at him and held his gaze, and as if reading his thoughts they burned through him and touched his soul.
Alma was distracted momentarily so his eyes wandered the soft brown nakedness of her neck and shoulders and then he met her eyes again and her smile broadened and her cheeks flushed.

As she sat down at an adjacent table his gaze once more returned to her face and Alma smiled.

That was the last time they sat on separate tables because the next day he joined her and bought her coffee and they talked and laughed, then drank more coffee and talked and laughed some more.

His eyes still took every opportunity to peruse her sweet face when he wasn’t held captive by her Spanish eyes.  

 

Six months passed and love blossomed and grew between them and then came the day when her dark eyes, sultry and steamy flashed him a side ward’s glance from beneath the white lace of her veil and in return he gave her a more appraising look altogether, focusing on the curvaceous figure beneath her conservative wedding dress.

Her eyes flashed up again, a lingering languid glance which spoke volumes of her being very much a woman and not the putative girl her parents would have her be still.
She was the centre of his admiration, and he was hers as they saw recognition in each other’s eyes, no words were spoken, everything was intuit and with amative study and libidinous perusal, the girl was his object of pulchritude and he was her beloved swain.

All at once they had to come back to the moment and the spell was broken momentarily and they had to turn their attention to the Vicar until the moment when after their union, he would look into the eyes of the young woman behind the white lace veil as they stood on the steps of St Winifred’s church.

I TELL YOU

 

I tell you that I love you

I tell you that I care

I tell you every day

Of the love that I declare

 

I tell you that I love you

I tell you every day

I tell you I am there for you

Each and every way

 

I tell you that I love you

I tell you that I’m sure

I tell you every day

But you’re so insecure

 

I tell you that I love you

I tell you that I care

I tell you every day

I’m not going anywhere

 

I tell you that I love you

I tell you I’m not that guy

I tell you every day

And then you start to cry

 

I tell you that I love you

I put my arms around you

I tell you every time

That my love for you is true

Mornington-By-Mere – (92) The Good Samaritan

 

David Ball 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.

It 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.

He lived and worked up at Mornington Field which had once been an RAF base but had been converted into a mixture of commercial and residential units.

David lived in apartment 7 of Lancaster House, which was converted into flats from the old Officers Mess.

He lived alone, and had done since he left home at the age of 18 and he had got to his mid 30’s and had needed no other company than his dog, or a dog, as there had been several incarnations of Kelvin.

He was employed by Light of Day, who were Led Lighting Specialists, and he was well regarded in the business but he became wider regarded after the events of his first Christmas in Mornington.

 

It was a week before Christmas when David was woken by Kelvin, his West of Argyle Terrier, it was 4 am and Kelvin clearly needed to go out despite the fact the wind was howling.
So reluctantly he got dressed and bundled up and they started out but when they got to the foot of the stairwell, Kelvin started to bark.

“Quiet you stupid creature” David said but Kelvin persisted his outburst until David opened the door and then he just became agitated and started pulling on the lead, but not along the path like he normally did, this time he turned immediately left to a slumped figure huddled in the corner of the porch, on closer examination Dave saw that it was a woman.

He tutted because his first reaction was that she was drunk, not something he had much tolerance with.

He took a penlight torch from his pocket and shone it in the woman’s face which was when he saw who it was, she was a woman from that building, Selina Tilley.

It was at that moment when he became more concerned because all though he didn’t know her well he did know one thing about her and that was that she was a Methodist and she didn’t drink, so he thought it was more likely to be hypothermia.

It looked like her lips were blue and when he touched her cheek it felt icy cold, then he checked her pulse which was weak, but it was present.
He let Kelvin off his lead while he got Selina to her feet and manhandled her inside the foyer to get her out of the bitter wind.  

He lay her on the carpeted floor and draped his coat over her and then used his mobile phone to call for an ambulance.

 

Kelvin had done his business so David let him and he sat and held Selina’s hand while he waited for the ambulance and Kelvin cuddled up to the other side of Selina.

 

The ambulance was mercifully quick and came roaring up to Lancaster House with flashing lights and David told them what he knew, which was hardly enough, in fact it was very little, but the paramedics went quickly about their work. 

They laid her on the trolley and started to check vital signs and then off they went to the hospital, with his name and number.

 

He called the Winston Churchill Hospital several times but he was told “Family only” every time he called.

So he tried a different tack. There were several nurses in the village, Rosie Parsons, Lorraine Chapman and Jane Hall to name but three and Jane was not only a friend his but was also a Staff Nurse at the Winston Churchill so he asked her if she could find out how the patient was and she agreed.

He was right about it not being alcohol related and he was also correct about her having hypothermia but it turned out that her underlying condition was diabetes which on that night had led to Hypoglycaemia.

Thankfully there would be no lasting effects but they were going to keep her in for a couple of days.

 

News of the events of that night quickly went around the village and David’s street cred went through the roof and he and Kelvin gained celebrity status.

Kelvin loved all the extra attention but David was less comfortable with it, and his thoughts kept straying to his stricken damsel in distress.

 

Selina Tilley was 27 years old and had worked for Crazy Chocolatiers since she left school, in fact she was the very first employee.

She also lived in the old Officers Mess, Lancaster House, in apartment 11 where she lived alone.

Selina hadn’t always done so, but she had been for a number of years and had become accustomed to it, but Christmas was fast approaching which was one of those times that she felt her solitude most keenly.

But as she lay in her hospital bed at the Royal Downshire it wasn’t Christmas that was occupying her mind.

She was patently aware that had it not been for David Ball and his little dog that she would have died and she really needed to do something to say thank you in some way but wasn’t sure what or how, she would of course say thank you, but it didn’t solve the essential problem of how to show her gratitude.

 

Alexandra Quarit was the founder and owner of Crazy Chocolatier’s who were the makers and purveyors of handmade chocolates and to many they made the best handmade chocolates in Downshire.

She began with a shop in the Abbottsford’s Phoenix Centre but she now had shops all over Downshire as well as several factory’s including the one at Mornington Field where Selina worked.

Alexandra was a good boss and everyone that worked for her, liked her, because she cared about the people she employed which was why she insisted on picking Selina up from the hospital two days before Christmas Eve.

 

As they drove towards Mornington Alexandra said

“I don’t want you back to work until the New Year”

“But I’m fully recovered” Selina said “thanks to David Ball, he saved my life”

“Which is why I don’t want you to come back to work too soon”

Alex said

“You had a lucky escape”

“Yes I did” she agreed “And I am very grateful for everything David did, and I want to get him a thank you gift”

“I’m sure he would appreciate that” Alex concurred

“But what?” Selina asked “What do you get for someone who saves your life?”

“I think Chocolates make a nice gift” Alex said and smiled

“You would say that” Selina retorted with a smile, “But it’s a bit of a cop out”

“Not if you make them yourself” Alex said and after a moment added “Hand made by you”

“I thought I was on enforced leave” Selina pointed out

“You can do it at home, think of it as occupational therapy”

Alex said

“I don’t have enough stuff” she replied

“It’s just as well I had Andrea stock you up then” Alexandra said cockily

“What are you up to?” Selina asked suspiciously

“I don’t know what you mean” she said innocently although she knew very well.

Alex had been encouraged by the fact that Selina spoke a lot about David Hall, not entirely unsurprising given that he had saved her life, but more noteworthy bearing in mind that she had been unconscious throughout the incident.

So she clearly had an interest in him prior to his intervention and because of that Alex was going to fan the flames, because her friend deserved someone in her life.     

 

Selina made a selection of her finest handmade creations and made up a beautiful gift box, she also ordered a small pet hamper from Hanratty’s Department Store in Abbottsford’s Phoenix Centre for Kelvin and then on Christmas Eve she went downstairs and knocked on David Hall’s door.

 

He was sitting watching Alastair Sim in “Scrooge” when Kelvin heard Selina approach and he was on his feet, ears pricked, tail wagging long before David heard the knock on the door. 

He tutted because “Scrooge” was one of his favourite Christmas movies but he got up and walked to the door and looked through the peephole and saw it was Selina and his heart rate quickened, he had heard she was home and he had thought about going to see if she was ok, he had even bought her a Christmas present, but he lost his nerve because he didn’t know what to say to her.

But now she was knocking on his door and there was no escape, unless of course he pretended not to be in, but he would have regretted that because he wanted to see her, but he still didn’t know what to say.

So he took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hello” he said “it’s nice to see you fully recovered”

“Hello David and hello Kelvin” she said “I am much better thanks to you two”

“Come in” he said side stepping her comment

“Oh ok”

 

Once inside she sat on the sofa and made a fuss of Kelvin and when David had taken his seat 

“I cannot express how grateful I am” she began

“Nonsense” he retorted “it was Kelvin who found you” 

“Well I am very grateful to both of you” she said and rummaged in her bag “so I have these gifts as a token of my gratitude”

“Oh” he said “you didn’t have to do that”

“It was the least I could do” she said

“It really wasn’t necessary” he insisted

“If you prefer you can consider them Christmas presents” Salina said and put them under the tree

“That’s very kind, thank you” David said

“We have a present under the tree for you too, don’t we Kelvin” he said

“Really? How nice” Selina said taken aback and that was when David gathered up all his courage and said

“Come for lunch tomorrow and we can open them together” 

“Oh yes what a lovely idea, thank you” Selina said happily

 

So they spent Christmas Day together, which was to be the first of many.

It turned out that when David and Kelvin saved Selina’s life that dark December morning he saved her life in more ways than one and saved his own in the process.

IF YOU WERE

 

If you were a kiss

You would be passion

If you were a dress

You’d be high fashion

If you were a pop song,

You would be number one

If you were an Olympian

You would be champion

If you were a star

You’d be the brightest

If you were a caress

You’d be the lightest

If you were a drink

You would be Moet

If you were a joke

You would be funny

If you were a flower

You would be exotic

If you were a dance

You would be erotic

If you were unmarried

You would be quite free

If you were so inclined

You could then marry me