(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 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, a Cathedral City and was home to Abbottsford Town football club.
It was a cold and bitter winter in 1962, and one of the hardest Downshire winters in living memory and eighteen year old Luke Osbourne found himself far from home in Abbottsford that Christmas, a trainee in the restaurant at the Regents Hotel, and he was penniless and alone.
He had spent most of his money on presents for his family in Northchapel and the remainder on postage to have them delivered in time for Christmas.
But on the day before Christmas Eve, he got paid and the restaurant manager, Stefanos Calavittis, told him
“Take the rest of the evening off, we are booked solid tomorrow and Christmas Day and we are very busy so there will be no time off for the next two day”
He was a very strict manager but his bark was worse than his bite and he treated all the staff firmly yet fairly.
“So go home and get some rest” He added.
Luke trudged home through the winding streets of the town towards his digs, where he had a room on the top floor of a Victorian terraced house in Castleview Road, but he decided to spend an hour at the Castle Pub.
It was run by Bob Dalimore, ex Abbottsford Town center forward, and he would regularly regale die-hard fans like Luke with stories of his glory days in the black and white quarters, he also overlooked the fact he was under age.
The Castle soon became his local as it was on his way home and the stocky, bald former football hero always made him and fellow Knights fans welcome.
After nursing his pint for an hour he wandered through the deserted winding back streets of the Castle district, slipping and slithering on the icy pavements and his breath rose in dense clouds in the sub-zero temperatures.
But suddenly two menacing figures appeared out of the darkness and he was knocked violently to the floor and after a sustained beating they left him bruised, bloody, cold and wet, minus his watch, his signet ring and his pay packet.
After an indeterminate period of time he struggled to his feet, brushing melted snow from his sodden clothes and groggily set off to complete his journey home.
He could have gone back to the pub where everyone would have rallied round but he was too ashamed.
His head ached from the beating and his hands had lost all sensation but he rubbed them vigorously together to restore circulation regardless.
As he stumbled along he peered through the frosted dimly lit windows and saw families, gaily preparing for the upcoming celebrations and he found himself wondering how things were at home.
He had received a letter from his mother only that morning and though it was intended to cheer him up it had the opposite effect because in truth it held sadness between every line.
“We will miss you, on your first Christmas away from home” she wrote and he missed home even more.
(Part 02)
Luke ached from the cold and huddled deeper into his duffel coat as a black cab sped by, full of drunken revelers, its windows steamed up.
The Christmas lights twinkled from the windows in Castle View Road, and he looked up to his own darkened window of his tiny attic apartment high above.
“Not far to go now” he said to himself as number 85 Castle View Road was in view.
He struggled up the narrow staircases up to his tiny attic apartment on the fourth floor of the old Victorian building.
Once he got into his room he spread his soaked clothing on the lukewarm radiator and crawled into bed as outside the snow began to fall heavily and little drops of moisture trickled down the frozen windowpane.
When he arrived downstairs for breakfast the next morning, his landlady, Mrs. Oliver, took one look at him and ordered him back to bed.
Fortunately he was not the only member of the Regents Hotel staff to have rooms at Mrs. Oliver’s, so they were able to let Mr. Calavittis what had happened to Luke and to testify that he wasn’t malingering.
He spent much of the day in his room under the covers until he suddenly heard a chorus of voices as they wafted up on the crisp afternoon air.
So he crawled out of his bed and wrenched the dormer window open and he saw far below in their back garden his next door neighbours children running around and having fun in the snow, his first reaction to the view of the Cooper family enjoying the weather was one of sadness, but he quickly shook off those feelings and leant far out and scooped up handfuls of snow from the slates and the Cooper children shrieked and ran for cover as his snowballs found their mark.
“Merry Christmas Luke” Sally Cooper called up to him and smiled “Come down and join us”
He liked Sally, she was a few months younger than him and he had a crush on her.
“Yes please come” her younger siblings chorused
Luke donned his duffel coat and woolen hat and went downstairs and via the back garden of 85 and joined the Coopers and was greeted by a volley of snowballs.
But when Sally saw the cuts and abrasions on his face she was shocked by their severity and called off her siblings attack.
“My goodness” she said “Mrs. O said you were robbed, but I didn’t know they hurt you so badly”
And then to her brother John she said
“Go and get mum”
When Mrs. Cooper appeared and saw his injuries she went all mother hen over him
“You poor boy, look what they did to you, you’re spending Christmas with us” she announced “and I want no argument”
“I’m working all day tomorrow” he said meekly
“Well you’re not working tonight” Mrs. Cooper said “so you’re staying for dinner, George has made Punch and we are having roast Goose tonight”
“He’d love to” Sally said “Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes very much, thank you” he said and Sally took his arm
“Come into the warm then” Mrs. Cooper said “it’s getting chilly”
“We don’t just have Punch and Goose this evening” Sally said as they followed the other inside
“What else could there be?” he asked
“Mistletoe” Sally replied and smiled so despite everything it turned out to be a wonderful Christmas in 1962 after all.
Wednesday 28 June 2017
Mornington-By-Mere – (94) The Old Flame
(Part 01)
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.
(Part 02)
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.
(Part 03)
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.
(Part 04)
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”
(Part 05)
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
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.
(Part 02)
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.
(Part 03)
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.
(Part 04)
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”
(Part 05)
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
Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (94) St Cuthbert’s Bazaar
The Finchbottom Vale was once a great wetland that centuries earlier stretched from Mornington in the East to Childean in the west and from Shallowfield in the south to Purplemere in the north.
But over the many centuries the vast majority of it had been drained for agriculture, a feat achieved largely by the efforts of famous Mornington Mills, of which only three had survived to the present day and even those were no longer functional and were in various states of repair.
There were only three small bodies of water left in the Vale now one in Mornington, one in Childean and third was Purplemere.
The village of Brocklington was on the River Brooke about six miles downstream from Sharping St Mary in the Finchbottom Vale which was nestled comfortably between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest to the south and the rolling Pepperstock Hills in the north, those who are lucky enough to live there think of it as the rose between two thorns.
Sophie Welby was the head teacher at St Cuthbert’s School and was a much respected figure in the village who had dedicated her life to educating the children of Brocklington, but she had done it at some personal cost, namely the love of her life Paul Barrington.
Paul was a journalist and had been offered a job at the Washington Post shortly after she was offered the Headship at St Cuthbert’s, he wanted her to go with him and he assured her that she could get a job in any school she chose, but she was scared, fearful of the unknown and the uncertainty, and was unsure about her love for him.
In the ten years that followed she realized that she loved him more than life itself, but that ship had sailed so she soldiered on as a loveless educator and stalwart of the village.
One of the high points of her year was the Christmas bazaar which was busy and exciting event that took a lot of organizing but brought a lot of joy, with all the usual attractions as well as Santa’s grotto.
But on Saturday afternoon at the height of the event as she strolled amongst the throng she caught sight of an attraction she hadn’t expected to see, Paul Barrington, and he beamed a smile in her direction the moment they made eye contact and her legs instantly turned to jelly.
He hadn’t changed a bit in her eyes, although his hair was a little greyer and his waist a little thicker, but he was still the man she loved, loves.
“Sophie!” he said “You haven’t changed a bit”
“Paul?”
“You look great” he said
“What are you doing here?” she asked, although that wasn’t the question she wanted to ask, she wanted to know everything else, was he married? Was he back? Was he hers?
“I’ve transferred to the London office” he replied
“Are your family moving with you?” she asked
“No only me” he replied “There is only me”
“So when did you get back?” she asked encouraged by his previous answer
“Last night” he replied and she dared to hope, after all he had wasted no time in getting to Brocklington, but before she could build on the glimmer of hope she was called away from him to avert a crisis
“It’s good to see you” she said as she was led away.
The moment the problem had been resolved she set off in search of Paul to continue her interrogation of him, but after a thorough search and three circuits of the School there was no sign of him and very soon the visitors started to drift away and the doors were closed for another year and as the team of helpers began to pack away Sophie sought out a quiet corner in which to reflect on a missed opportunity and she took sanctuary in the grotto.
The grotto was decorated with red and gold velvet drapes, adorned with tinsel and coloured lights, with a huge throne in the furthest corner surrounded by Christmas parcels and leading to the throne was a snow covered path and on one side of it was a festive tableau of snowmen and reindeer and on the other side Santa’s sleigh was parked.
She walked slowly down the snow covered path and sat on Santa’s throne and put her head in her hands and sighed and remained there for an indeterminate amount of time until she was brought back to the moment.
“So this is where you’re hiding”
“You’re still here” she exclaimed
“You sound disappointed” Paul pointed out
“No, no I didn’t mean that” she corrected him a little too forcefully
“It’s just that when I couldn’t find you anywhere I thought you must have gone”
“You were looking for me?” he asked
“Erm well we hadn’t finished catching up” she explained
“That’s good but I didn’t travel three and a half thousand miles just to catch up” he said
“What did you come for then?” she asked
“I came here to pick up” Paul said
“What?” she exclaimed
“From where we left off” he added and kissed her and it was liked they’d never been apart.
But over the many centuries the vast majority of it had been drained for agriculture, a feat achieved largely by the efforts of famous Mornington Mills, of which only three had survived to the present day and even those were no longer functional and were in various states of repair.
There were only three small bodies of water left in the Vale now one in Mornington, one in Childean and third was Purplemere.
The village of Brocklington was on the River Brooke about six miles downstream from Sharping St Mary in the Finchbottom Vale which was nestled comfortably between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest to the south and the rolling Pepperstock Hills in the north, those who are lucky enough to live there think of it as the rose between two thorns.
Sophie Welby was the head teacher at St Cuthbert’s School and was a much respected figure in the village who had dedicated her life to educating the children of Brocklington, but she had done it at some personal cost, namely the love of her life Paul Barrington.
Paul was a journalist and had been offered a job at the Washington Post shortly after she was offered the Headship at St Cuthbert’s, he wanted her to go with him and he assured her that she could get a job in any school she chose, but she was scared, fearful of the unknown and the uncertainty, and was unsure about her love for him.
In the ten years that followed she realized that she loved him more than life itself, but that ship had sailed so she soldiered on as a loveless educator and stalwart of the village.
One of the high points of her year was the Christmas bazaar which was busy and exciting event that took a lot of organizing but brought a lot of joy, with all the usual attractions as well as Santa’s grotto.
But on Saturday afternoon at the height of the event as she strolled amongst the throng she caught sight of an attraction she hadn’t expected to see, Paul Barrington, and he beamed a smile in her direction the moment they made eye contact and her legs instantly turned to jelly.
He hadn’t changed a bit in her eyes, although his hair was a little greyer and his waist a little thicker, but he was still the man she loved, loves.
“Sophie!” he said “You haven’t changed a bit”
“Paul?”
“You look great” he said
“What are you doing here?” she asked, although that wasn’t the question she wanted to ask, she wanted to know everything else, was he married? Was he back? Was he hers?
“I’ve transferred to the London office” he replied
“Are your family moving with you?” she asked
“No only me” he replied “There is only me”
“So when did you get back?” she asked encouraged by his previous answer
“Last night” he replied and she dared to hope, after all he had wasted no time in getting to Brocklington, but before she could build on the glimmer of hope she was called away from him to avert a crisis
“It’s good to see you” she said as she was led away.
The moment the problem had been resolved she set off in search of Paul to continue her interrogation of him, but after a thorough search and three circuits of the School there was no sign of him and very soon the visitors started to drift away and the doors were closed for another year and as the team of helpers began to pack away Sophie sought out a quiet corner in which to reflect on a missed opportunity and she took sanctuary in the grotto.
The grotto was decorated with red and gold velvet drapes, adorned with tinsel and coloured lights, with a huge throne in the furthest corner surrounded by Christmas parcels and leading to the throne was a snow covered path and on one side of it was a festive tableau of snowmen and reindeer and on the other side Santa’s sleigh was parked.
She walked slowly down the snow covered path and sat on Santa’s throne and put her head in her hands and sighed and remained there for an indeterminate amount of time until she was brought back to the moment.
“So this is where you’re hiding”
“You’re still here” she exclaimed
“You sound disappointed” Paul pointed out
“No, no I didn’t mean that” she corrected him a little too forcefully
“It’s just that when I couldn’t find you anywhere I thought you must have gone”
“You were looking for me?” he asked
“Erm well we hadn’t finished catching up” she explained
“That’s good but I didn’t travel three and a half thousand miles just to catch up” he said
“What did you come for then?” she asked
“I came here to pick up” Paul said
“What?” she exclaimed
“From where we left off” he added and kissed her and it was liked they’d never been apart.
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (94) For the Love of Anna
Rod McGregor was cold to his core as he hurried towards Shallowfield, it was three days before Christmas and 24 hours earlier he had been in Brisbane, which had been his home for the previous 24 years, where he worked as a conservationist for the Enoggera Forest Reserves, and it was his first time back in Downshire since he emigrated, and he never expected to see it again, in fact he had promised that he would never return.
But it was the person to whom he had made that promise, Anna Abbiss, who had summoned him back, so he couldn’t refuse.
Anna was the love of his life, and the only woman he had ever truly loved, and he loved her still, and she had loved him in equal measure, the only problem was that she was married, to his brother.
A two year affair between them resulted in her falling pregnant, Rod was sure that he was the father because Bob had mumps when he was in his teens and what Rod knew, and his brother didn’t was that such an affliction at that time at the age he was almost without exception resulted in rendering the recipient sterile.
However Bob was in blissful ignorance and because of his obvious delight at his impending fatherhood, Rod and Anna decided they should draw their affair to a close, but because they had tried previously and failed she said the only way was for him to leave, and he agreed, so he emigrated to Queensland.
Obviously because they were his family he couldn’t sever all contact but he maintained the distance although there had been close calls over the years when Bob would invite his brother to stay or would himself plan a trip to Australia, something always came up, something fabricated, to prevent it.
As he drove across the Vale he listened to the Radio and the weather forecast predicted a White Christmas and the artic winds were already blowing and had brought little flurries of hailstones and sleet throughout the day, but the slushy particles dissolved as they hit the ground.
However as he got closer to the Dancingdean Forest wet sleet turned to powdery snow, and the snowflakes floated and swirled through the air and formed a soft white carpet over the silent countryside and dusted the trees and turned the landscape into a magical wonderland.
He pulled up outside the Larkspur Hospice and took a few deep breaths before he got out of the car to steel himself for what was ahead.
He walked inside and the first person he saw was his brother Bob, who beamed a radiant smile at him as they approached each other and then they hugged
“Thanks for coming bro”
He stood by the door and looked into the room, and there she was, a pale imitation of what she had been, and beside her bed was a younger woman, clearly her daughter, their daughter, and she was the spitting image of Anna.
When she saw him she got up and walked towards him with tears in her eyes, because although they had never met she recognised him and exclaimed
“Uncle Rod!”
“Sweet Amy” he retorted
Because he was unable to cut the family ties he had managed to conduct relationships with his brother and his niece via email and maintained one with Anna vicariously.
What they hadn’t told him in their chatty email exchanges, at Anna’s request, was that Anna was battling breast cancer, but as each successive treatments failed and hope was finally replaced by palliative care, she had to see him one last time before she died.
“How is she doing?” he asked
“It won’t be long now” Amy said and the tears welled up and she broke down, in her father’s arms.
“Go and sit with her” Bob suggested “The morphine has her but talk to her”
He sat beside her bed and held her hand and said
“I love you my Anna”
He felt her hand move in his and then her eyes slowly opened and a glimmer of recognition spread across her face and she licked her lips and retorted
“Hello my only love”
They held each other’s gaze for what seemed an eternity, but in reality it was only seconds before she closed her eyes and she was gone back beneath the morphine veil.
But it was the person to whom he had made that promise, Anna Abbiss, who had summoned him back, so he couldn’t refuse.
Anna was the love of his life, and the only woman he had ever truly loved, and he loved her still, and she had loved him in equal measure, the only problem was that she was married, to his brother.
A two year affair between them resulted in her falling pregnant, Rod was sure that he was the father because Bob had mumps when he was in his teens and what Rod knew, and his brother didn’t was that such an affliction at that time at the age he was almost without exception resulted in rendering the recipient sterile.
However Bob was in blissful ignorance and because of his obvious delight at his impending fatherhood, Rod and Anna decided they should draw their affair to a close, but because they had tried previously and failed she said the only way was for him to leave, and he agreed, so he emigrated to Queensland.
Obviously because they were his family he couldn’t sever all contact but he maintained the distance although there had been close calls over the years when Bob would invite his brother to stay or would himself plan a trip to Australia, something always came up, something fabricated, to prevent it.
As he drove across the Vale he listened to the Radio and the weather forecast predicted a White Christmas and the artic winds were already blowing and had brought little flurries of hailstones and sleet throughout the day, but the slushy particles dissolved as they hit the ground.
However as he got closer to the Dancingdean Forest wet sleet turned to powdery snow, and the snowflakes floated and swirled through the air and formed a soft white carpet over the silent countryside and dusted the trees and turned the landscape into a magical wonderland.
He pulled up outside the Larkspur Hospice and took a few deep breaths before he got out of the car to steel himself for what was ahead.
He walked inside and the first person he saw was his brother Bob, who beamed a radiant smile at him as they approached each other and then they hugged
“Thanks for coming bro”
He stood by the door and looked into the room, and there she was, a pale imitation of what she had been, and beside her bed was a younger woman, clearly her daughter, their daughter, and she was the spitting image of Anna.
When she saw him she got up and walked towards him with tears in her eyes, because although they had never met she recognised him and exclaimed
“Uncle Rod!”
“Sweet Amy” he retorted
Because he was unable to cut the family ties he had managed to conduct relationships with his brother and his niece via email and maintained one with Anna vicariously.
What they hadn’t told him in their chatty email exchanges, at Anna’s request, was that Anna was battling breast cancer, but as each successive treatments failed and hope was finally replaced by palliative care, she had to see him one last time before she died.
“How is she doing?” he asked
“It won’t be long now” Amy said and the tears welled up and she broke down, in her father’s arms.
“Go and sit with her” Bob suggested “The morphine has her but talk to her”
He sat beside her bed and held her hand and said
“I love you my Anna”
He felt her hand move in his and then her eyes slowly opened and a glimmer of recognition spread across her face and she licked her lips and retorted
“Hello my only love”
They held each other’s gaze for what seemed an eternity, but in reality it was only seconds before she closed her eyes and she was gone back beneath the morphine veil.
Tuesday 27 June 2017
Downshire Diary – (93) On Drake’s Farm
He tried to drive daintily through the potholed unmade road but failed miserably, but despite the hard going he eventually emerged into what looked like a poorly maintained Industrial Estate but was actually a ram shackled farm.
With an equally ram shackled farmyard littered with clutter including the rusty metal bits of tractors and the like.
As he drove into the yard he gave a wave to an old-man driving past in his car to go out the way he came in, the old man was Neville Drake and he was the former owner of Drakes Farm.
Anthony Menezes pulled into a second yard with outbuildings on three sides, all of which had seen better days.
He got out of his car and walked across the yard and turned the corner to the farmhouse and that was the first time that he saw the new owner, Jessica Quail, who he found to be haughty and aloof.
That was twelve months earlier, now as he drove along, the unmade road was pothole free and tarmac’d and the formerly ram shackled farm was now a very neat and tidy one.
Which was in stark contrast to how it had looked when he was there the first time, all the clutter that had littered the yard was gone, the mud that caked the cobbles had been washed away and the flaked and peeling paintwork had been completely replaced with gleaming white gloss, guttering had been repaired or replaced and had he not been a regular visitor to the farm he might have thought it was a different farm.
The reason for this transformation was the tall skinny Jessica Quail who was crossing the yard to greet him as he got out of the car.
She was just 32, with straw coloured hair, which was short and unruly.
As she strode toward him she was wearing a baggy tee shirt and overalls, and she looked like a proper tomboy.
“Hello Mr Menezes” she said with a smile and no hint of the haughty aloofness of their first meeting.
But then that was because during the twelve months that had elapsed they had been working at the farm together they had fallen in love.
“Hi Jess, are you busy?” he asked
“I’m never too busy for you” she said flirtily and embraced him
“Good because I want to ask you something” he said
“Ok you can ask me something on one condition” Jess said
“What condition?”
“That you ask me to marry you” she said and giggled
“What?”
“You have to ask me to marry you” she said
“What makes you think I’m going to ask you to marry me?” he asked
“Because you’ve been carrying the ring around in your jacket pocket for over a week” Jess said
“What makes you think it’s for you?” Anthony asked
“It had better be” she snapped and turned to face him
“Ok I admit it, the ring is for you” he confessed
“And so I should think” she said and after a pause she added
“Well?”
“Well what?” he retorted
“You still have to ask me” she pointed out
“Oh yes” he said and laughed and then asked “Will you marry me?”
“I’ll think about it” Jessica said and turned on her heels and headed towards the house
“What do you mean you’ll think about it?” he asked and trotted after her and then she stopped dead and turned around to face him
“Ok I’ve thought about it,” she said and launched herself at him “Of course I’ll marry you”
With an equally ram shackled farmyard littered with clutter including the rusty metal bits of tractors and the like.
As he drove into the yard he gave a wave to an old-man driving past in his car to go out the way he came in, the old man was Neville Drake and he was the former owner of Drakes Farm.
Anthony Menezes pulled into a second yard with outbuildings on three sides, all of which had seen better days.
He got out of his car and walked across the yard and turned the corner to the farmhouse and that was the first time that he saw the new owner, Jessica Quail, who he found to be haughty and aloof.
That was twelve months earlier, now as he drove along, the unmade road was pothole free and tarmac’d and the formerly ram shackled farm was now a very neat and tidy one.
Which was in stark contrast to how it had looked when he was there the first time, all the clutter that had littered the yard was gone, the mud that caked the cobbles had been washed away and the flaked and peeling paintwork had been completely replaced with gleaming white gloss, guttering had been repaired or replaced and had he not been a regular visitor to the farm he might have thought it was a different farm.
The reason for this transformation was the tall skinny Jessica Quail who was crossing the yard to greet him as he got out of the car.
She was just 32, with straw coloured hair, which was short and unruly.
As she strode toward him she was wearing a baggy tee shirt and overalls, and she looked like a proper tomboy.
“Hello Mr Menezes” she said with a smile and no hint of the haughty aloofness of their first meeting.
But then that was because during the twelve months that had elapsed they had been working at the farm together they had fallen in love.
“Hi Jess, are you busy?” he asked
“I’m never too busy for you” she said flirtily and embraced him
“Good because I want to ask you something” he said
“Ok you can ask me something on one condition” Jess said
“What condition?”
“That you ask me to marry you” she said and giggled
“What?”
“You have to ask me to marry you” she said
“What makes you think I’m going to ask you to marry me?” he asked
“Because you’ve been carrying the ring around in your jacket pocket for over a week” Jess said
“What makes you think it’s for you?” Anthony asked
“It had better be” she snapped and turned to face him
“Ok I admit it, the ring is for you” he confessed
“And so I should think” she said and after a pause she added
“Well?”
“Well what?” he retorted
“You still have to ask me” she pointed out
“Oh yes” he said and laughed and then asked “Will you marry me?”
“I’ll think about it” Jessica said and turned on her heels and headed towards the house
“What do you mean you’ll think about it?” he asked and trotted after her and then she stopped dead and turned around to face him
“Ok I’ve thought about it,” she said and launched herself at him “Of course I’ll marry 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.
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.
Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (93) Doctors in Love
(Part 01)
The Finchbottom Vale nestles comfortably between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest to the south and the rolling Pepperstock Hills in the north and those who were lucky enough to live there think of it as the rose between two thorns and at the eastern end of the Vale were the Dulcets which were a collection of villages and hamlets comprising of Dulcet Meadow, Dulcet-on-Willow, Dulcet St Mary, Dulcet Green and Dulcet-on-Brooke, to name but a few.
Barry and Sarah Blake and Chris and Helen Blenkin were all Doctors of varying degrees, Barry was a GP while his wife Sarah was an ambition driven cardio thoracic surgeon.
Helen Blenkin was also a GP at the same practice as Barry and her husband Chris was an ENT specialist at the Royal Downshire, he was also a drunken womanizer.
So the two couple’s, one with a neglected husband due to an ambitious wife and the other with a lonely wife because of an alcoholic adulterer pushed Barry and Helen towards a forbidden love.
Barry and Helen worked at the Dulcets Health Centre in Dulcet-on-Brooke and the Blake’s lived in the village but the Blenkin’s lived in Brocklington.
Over the years because of their personal circumstances the two had spent increasingly more time together and slowly and inexorably fell in love, but despite that fact they did nothing but enjoy each other’s company for five years, before they succumbed to the inevitable.
However even after the genie was out the bottle they had to be discreet and quite inventive to protect their secret love.
One such subterfuge occurred at the end of a very busy week when the health center’s resources were stretched very thin.
One of Helen’s patients collapsed in the waiting room at the Health Centre and the woman was very scared so she offered to ride with her in the ambulance, which calmed her down but she died an hour after arriving at the hospital, Helen was sad about her death but happy in the knowledge that she passed peacefully.
With Helen stranded in Purplemere Barry volunteered to drive over and pick her up.
As they were driving back to Dulcet-on-Brooke in the bright evening sunshine to pick up her car, Helen suddenly asked
“Do you have any visitors at the moment?”
She was referring to his sister Brenda who was a frequent flyer in his spare room but she really wanted to know if Sarah was home.
“No just me on my lonesome” he replied
“What about Sarah?” she asked
“She’s gone to a conference in Amsterdam for a couple of days” he answered and then there was a long silence.
“Do you want some company?” Helen asked coyly
“Are you offering?” he asked her
“I am” she replied
Then after a few moments she continue
“It’s been such a beastly week and I know I’m very brazen, but once in a while it’s nice to feel like I’m part of a proper couple, and I feel that with you and…”
“And today you need that more than ever” he continued for her
“Yes” she replied
(Part 02)
It was dark when they got back to the village and parked the car on the drive.
Although it was Helen’s desire to spend the night with him she was conscious of the risk to her reputation if she was seen going through his front door after dark by the village busybodies.
So Barry got out of the car and opened the door while Helen put on one of Sarah’s hats that she found in the door pocket, which disguised her sufficiently to the untrained eye while she dashed in through the door.
They would have to employ a similar subterfuge later on that evening but that was only after they had spent the evening together.
When he had safely smuggled her inside the hall she said
“Is this any kind of way for grownups to behave?” and they both burst out laughing.
But then inevitably they started kissing and began a kind of shuffle along the hall until he picked her up and carried her to the lounge when at the height of passion her stomach started gurgling and it got louder and louder until it culminated in foul tasting belch in his mouth.
“Oh God I’m so sorry” Helen said mortified by her unintentional gastric eruption.
“I haven’t really eaten for two days,” she said in her defense but all he could do was laugh, which in turn set her off, and once the giggles set in there was nothing to be done.
So Barry got the takeaway menus and ten minutes later he was ordering an Indian.
They still had the giggles so he opened a bottle of wine and poured two large glasses.
“I can’t have that much” she said when she saw the size of the glass “I’m driving remember”
“I thought you were staying the night,” he said
“Is that ok?” she asked
“Of course it is, so get that down your neck” he replied
While they waited for dinner to arrive Helen made some phone calls, in between the giggles, just to make sure everything was ok at the surgery.
But every time they thought about renewing their amorous intentions, they dissolved into giggles again.
By the time the food arrived they were a little bit pissed and after they’d eaten they were too stuffed for passion so they drank some more instead.
So by the time midnight came around they were quite merry and all of a sudden Helen sat upright and said
“I don’t have a change of clothes”
“That’s ok we’re not going anywhere” he reassured her
“But I’ve got no spare knickers” she emphasized
“You could borrow some of Sarah’s,” he suggested
“No that is wrong on so many levels” she chastised and Barry was just about to make another suggestion when Helen said
“And commando is not an option”
“Nothing could have been further from my mind,” he said innocently
“Nothing is precisely what was on your mind” she corrected him “and me wearing it” and she laughed.
After a few minutes of giggles Helen suddenly announced
“I have an overnight bag in my car for when I’m on call”
“Well lets go and get it then” I said
“But what if someone sees me come in here with my overnight bag” she said anxiously
“They won’t” he said and went out into the hall
“Why not?” she asked
“Because we will be in disguise” he replied and handed her a hoody
Helen stood up and slipped it on and put the hood up.
“What do you think?” Helen asked as she did her catwalk strut and Barry looked her up and down from head to toe.
“You look like a professional woman wearing a hoody” he said frankly “Hold on”
And he went upstairs and went to the airing cupboard and then the spare room and returned downstairs.
“Change into these” he said and handed her a pair of joggers, a sweatshirt and a pair of trainers.
“Sarah’s?” she asked
“Brenda’s” he replied, Brenda was his younger sister who often stayed with him.
“That’s ok then” she said and began undressing but then stopped “Some privacy would be nice”
“I won’t look honest” he lied and Helen gave him a look so he got up and went into the hall, where he could have spied through the crack in the door, which he didn’t, well not much.
(Part 03)
Ten minutes later they slipped out the back door into the darkness of the garden like they had just accepted a “Mission Impossible” and then ran giggling into the woods that separated the end of the garden from the 18th fairway where they skulked their way along the wooded path, like a couple of kids playing soldiers, all the way to the Church Lane where they hugged the shrubbery until they reached the Health Centre car park.
They gave a long furtive look to make sure there was no one around and then they approached Helen’s car.
She fished the keys from her pocket and unlocked it and it responded with a loud bleep made all the louder by the silence and a flash of the lights all the brighter in the darkness.
Startled by the sound of the immobilizer they quickly opened the tailgate and Helen grabbed her backpack, then she reset the alarm and they headed back to the lane.
“Oi you” a voice shouted, “What are you doing there?”
“Come on” he urged her and they ran laughing back into the woods periodically looking over their shoulders to see if they were being pursued.
Once they were in the woods they ran on and on until they crashed in a heap in the undergrowth laughing.
“Shhh” she said, “Someone will hear”
But Barry couldn’t stop giggling so she decided the only way to shut him up was to kiss him, but what began as a means of suppressing his giggles ended with her tongue darting in and out of his mouth like a viper so he returned the kiss to her hot panting mouth.
“This is very nice,” she panted as he began to rummage inside her hoody and was making great progress but then to his surprise she suddenly leapt up and said
“Oh no you don’t” and ran off down the path and he scramble to his feet as quickly as possible and ran after her and although she had a good head start it didn’t take long for him to close the ground on her and he grabbed hold of her back pack and pulled her backwards.
But her progress was only halted momentarily as she wriggled free of the straps and he ended up sitting on his backside holding the bag and to add insult onto injury she lifted her hoody and flashed him and then ran off laughing.
“That’s dirty fighting” he called after her and quickly got back to his feet, but she managed to show him a clean pair of heels all the way back to the house.
“Well that was quite an adventure wasn’t it?” she said as she kicked off her shoes.
“It’s a shame you couldn’t keep up”
“You cheeky cow” he said affronted as she turned on her heels and ran out of the kitchen giggling like a schoolgirl heading for the stairs and he sprinted after her and he caught her halfway across the landing and she screamed as he grabbed her by the waist.
“Got yer,” he said and scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.
(Part 04)
On Saturday Morning he was lying in bed, while Helen was in the shower, waiting for her to finish so he could get in, he didn’t have to wait too long.
Showered and shaved he went back into the bedroom where he found Helen sitting on the bed loosely wearing a dressing gown while she was talking on her mobile.
“Really?” she said but he couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation.
“Yes of course I will” Helen said and again he couldn’t hear anything in response
“Yes I’ll let you know” she said “Good bye”
“You’ll never guess what that was about” she said
“You’ll have to tell me then” he replied
“When we were seen by my car last night it was reported to the police” Helen said
“It’s a good job we were in disguise then” Barry said as he knelt on the bed behind her and began kissing her neck which was the prelude to a wonderful start to the day.
Barry would have happily spent the whole day making love to Helen but alas she had to go.
However the problem was how to get her out of his house in broad daylight without being seen.
So they decided to have a coffee while they made a plan, and two mugs of coffee later as if in answer to a prayer it started to rain, but not just rain, it was an absolute deluge.
“Oh shitty bloody weather” Helen cursed
“Excellent” he said
“What?” she asked, “but it’s horrible”
“It’s perfect, is what it is” he said and went into the utility and came out with a set of waterproofs and a Golfing umbrella.
“If anyone sees you in the woods in these they’ll just think you’re a Golfer” Barry said “Ditto when you emerge into the lane”
“Perfect” she said “but what if I’m seen getting in the car?”
“Then you say you’re going to the club,” he said
“You’re a very devious man,” Helen said
“I know but the rewards are well worth it” he stated and Helen blushed crimson red.
But having provided Helen with the appropriate clothing they immediately hit upon a snag, the trousers didn’t fit over her skirt, it bunched up under the waterproofs and made it look like she had a bustle.
So she removed the trouser and then had to take her skirt off.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she said when she noticed him looking at her in her knickers and tights.
“Well you could stay a bit longer,” he suggested lustily
“Don’t temp me,” she said quickly pulling on the waterproof trousers which were a little on the large side and the waistband sat just below her bust line.
Then she pulled on the top over her head before slipping on her shoes.
“That’s not going to work,” he said
“Why?” she asked with concern
“No one would wear footwear like that on a golf course,” he told her
“They are a bit of a giveaway, aren’t they?” she admitted
“Indeed” he agreed
“What can I wear then?” she asked
“Brenda’s trainers” he said
“What about all my stuff?” she queried
“I’ll bring it to the surgery on Monday, I’ll tell Karen that you left them in my car yesterday” he said
“God, you’re good at this stuff,” Helen said and she kissed him
After he had kissed her goodbye he let her out into the rain.
“Text me when you reach your car” he said
“Will do” she responded and off she went
“I love you” he called after her
Meanwhile he gathered her stuff together and put it in her backpack and put it and her overcoat by the front door.
Which was when he got a text
“Made it,” it read “I love you too”
The Finchbottom Vale nestles comfortably between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest to the south and the rolling Pepperstock Hills in the north and those who were lucky enough to live there think of it as the rose between two thorns and at the eastern end of the Vale were the Dulcets which were a collection of villages and hamlets comprising of Dulcet Meadow, Dulcet-on-Willow, Dulcet St Mary, Dulcet Green and Dulcet-on-Brooke, to name but a few.
Barry and Sarah Blake and Chris and Helen Blenkin were all Doctors of varying degrees, Barry was a GP while his wife Sarah was an ambition driven cardio thoracic surgeon.
Helen Blenkin was also a GP at the same practice as Barry and her husband Chris was an ENT specialist at the Royal Downshire, he was also a drunken womanizer.
So the two couple’s, one with a neglected husband due to an ambitious wife and the other with a lonely wife because of an alcoholic adulterer pushed Barry and Helen towards a forbidden love.
Barry and Helen worked at the Dulcets Health Centre in Dulcet-on-Brooke and the Blake’s lived in the village but the Blenkin’s lived in Brocklington.
Over the years because of their personal circumstances the two had spent increasingly more time together and slowly and inexorably fell in love, but despite that fact they did nothing but enjoy each other’s company for five years, before they succumbed to the inevitable.
However even after the genie was out the bottle they had to be discreet and quite inventive to protect their secret love.
One such subterfuge occurred at the end of a very busy week when the health center’s resources were stretched very thin.
One of Helen’s patients collapsed in the waiting room at the Health Centre and the woman was very scared so she offered to ride with her in the ambulance, which calmed her down but she died an hour after arriving at the hospital, Helen was sad about her death but happy in the knowledge that she passed peacefully.
With Helen stranded in Purplemere Barry volunteered to drive over and pick her up.
As they were driving back to Dulcet-on-Brooke in the bright evening sunshine to pick up her car, Helen suddenly asked
“Do you have any visitors at the moment?”
She was referring to his sister Brenda who was a frequent flyer in his spare room but she really wanted to know if Sarah was home.
“No just me on my lonesome” he replied
“What about Sarah?” she asked
“She’s gone to a conference in Amsterdam for a couple of days” he answered and then there was a long silence.
“Do you want some company?” Helen asked coyly
“Are you offering?” he asked her
“I am” she replied
Then after a few moments she continue
“It’s been such a beastly week and I know I’m very brazen, but once in a while it’s nice to feel like I’m part of a proper couple, and I feel that with you and…”
“And today you need that more than ever” he continued for her
“Yes” she replied
(Part 02)
It was dark when they got back to the village and parked the car on the drive.
Although it was Helen’s desire to spend the night with him she was conscious of the risk to her reputation if she was seen going through his front door after dark by the village busybodies.
So Barry got out of the car and opened the door while Helen put on one of Sarah’s hats that she found in the door pocket, which disguised her sufficiently to the untrained eye while she dashed in through the door.
They would have to employ a similar subterfuge later on that evening but that was only after they had spent the evening together.
When he had safely smuggled her inside the hall she said
“Is this any kind of way for grownups to behave?” and they both burst out laughing.
But then inevitably they started kissing and began a kind of shuffle along the hall until he picked her up and carried her to the lounge when at the height of passion her stomach started gurgling and it got louder and louder until it culminated in foul tasting belch in his mouth.
“Oh God I’m so sorry” Helen said mortified by her unintentional gastric eruption.
“I haven’t really eaten for two days,” she said in her defense but all he could do was laugh, which in turn set her off, and once the giggles set in there was nothing to be done.
So Barry got the takeaway menus and ten minutes later he was ordering an Indian.
They still had the giggles so he opened a bottle of wine and poured two large glasses.
“I can’t have that much” she said when she saw the size of the glass “I’m driving remember”
“I thought you were staying the night,” he said
“Is that ok?” she asked
“Of course it is, so get that down your neck” he replied
While they waited for dinner to arrive Helen made some phone calls, in between the giggles, just to make sure everything was ok at the surgery.
But every time they thought about renewing their amorous intentions, they dissolved into giggles again.
By the time the food arrived they were a little bit pissed and after they’d eaten they were too stuffed for passion so they drank some more instead.
So by the time midnight came around they were quite merry and all of a sudden Helen sat upright and said
“I don’t have a change of clothes”
“That’s ok we’re not going anywhere” he reassured her
“But I’ve got no spare knickers” she emphasized
“You could borrow some of Sarah’s,” he suggested
“No that is wrong on so many levels” she chastised and Barry was just about to make another suggestion when Helen said
“And commando is not an option”
“Nothing could have been further from my mind,” he said innocently
“Nothing is precisely what was on your mind” she corrected him “and me wearing it” and she laughed.
After a few minutes of giggles Helen suddenly announced
“I have an overnight bag in my car for when I’m on call”
“Well lets go and get it then” I said
“But what if someone sees me come in here with my overnight bag” she said anxiously
“They won’t” he said and went out into the hall
“Why not?” she asked
“Because we will be in disguise” he replied and handed her a hoody
Helen stood up and slipped it on and put the hood up.
“What do you think?” Helen asked as she did her catwalk strut and Barry looked her up and down from head to toe.
“You look like a professional woman wearing a hoody” he said frankly “Hold on”
And he went upstairs and went to the airing cupboard and then the spare room and returned downstairs.
“Change into these” he said and handed her a pair of joggers, a sweatshirt and a pair of trainers.
“Sarah’s?” she asked
“Brenda’s” he replied, Brenda was his younger sister who often stayed with him.
“That’s ok then” she said and began undressing but then stopped “Some privacy would be nice”
“I won’t look honest” he lied and Helen gave him a look so he got up and went into the hall, where he could have spied through the crack in the door, which he didn’t, well not much.
(Part 03)
Ten minutes later they slipped out the back door into the darkness of the garden like they had just accepted a “Mission Impossible” and then ran giggling into the woods that separated the end of the garden from the 18th fairway where they skulked their way along the wooded path, like a couple of kids playing soldiers, all the way to the Church Lane where they hugged the shrubbery until they reached the Health Centre car park.
They gave a long furtive look to make sure there was no one around and then they approached Helen’s car.
She fished the keys from her pocket and unlocked it and it responded with a loud bleep made all the louder by the silence and a flash of the lights all the brighter in the darkness.
Startled by the sound of the immobilizer they quickly opened the tailgate and Helen grabbed her backpack, then she reset the alarm and they headed back to the lane.
“Oi you” a voice shouted, “What are you doing there?”
“Come on” he urged her and they ran laughing back into the woods periodically looking over their shoulders to see if they were being pursued.
Once they were in the woods they ran on and on until they crashed in a heap in the undergrowth laughing.
“Shhh” she said, “Someone will hear”
But Barry couldn’t stop giggling so she decided the only way to shut him up was to kiss him, but what began as a means of suppressing his giggles ended with her tongue darting in and out of his mouth like a viper so he returned the kiss to her hot panting mouth.
“This is very nice,” she panted as he began to rummage inside her hoody and was making great progress but then to his surprise she suddenly leapt up and said
“Oh no you don’t” and ran off down the path and he scramble to his feet as quickly as possible and ran after her and although she had a good head start it didn’t take long for him to close the ground on her and he grabbed hold of her back pack and pulled her backwards.
But her progress was only halted momentarily as she wriggled free of the straps and he ended up sitting on his backside holding the bag and to add insult onto injury she lifted her hoody and flashed him and then ran off laughing.
“That’s dirty fighting” he called after her and quickly got back to his feet, but she managed to show him a clean pair of heels all the way back to the house.
“Well that was quite an adventure wasn’t it?” she said as she kicked off her shoes.
“It’s a shame you couldn’t keep up”
“You cheeky cow” he said affronted as she turned on her heels and ran out of the kitchen giggling like a schoolgirl heading for the stairs and he sprinted after her and he caught her halfway across the landing and she screamed as he grabbed her by the waist.
“Got yer,” he said and scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.
(Part 04)
On Saturday Morning he was lying in bed, while Helen was in the shower, waiting for her to finish so he could get in, he didn’t have to wait too long.
Showered and shaved he went back into the bedroom where he found Helen sitting on the bed loosely wearing a dressing gown while she was talking on her mobile.
“Really?” she said but he couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation.
“Yes of course I will” Helen said and again he couldn’t hear anything in response
“Yes I’ll let you know” she said “Good bye”
“You’ll never guess what that was about” she said
“You’ll have to tell me then” he replied
“When we were seen by my car last night it was reported to the police” Helen said
“It’s a good job we were in disguise then” Barry said as he knelt on the bed behind her and began kissing her neck which was the prelude to a wonderful start to the day.
Barry would have happily spent the whole day making love to Helen but alas she had to go.
However the problem was how to get her out of his house in broad daylight without being seen.
So they decided to have a coffee while they made a plan, and two mugs of coffee later as if in answer to a prayer it started to rain, but not just rain, it was an absolute deluge.
“Oh shitty bloody weather” Helen cursed
“Excellent” he said
“What?” she asked, “but it’s horrible”
“It’s perfect, is what it is” he said and went into the utility and came out with a set of waterproofs and a Golfing umbrella.
“If anyone sees you in the woods in these they’ll just think you’re a Golfer” Barry said “Ditto when you emerge into the lane”
“Perfect” she said “but what if I’m seen getting in the car?”
“Then you say you’re going to the club,” he said
“You’re a very devious man,” Helen said
“I know but the rewards are well worth it” he stated and Helen blushed crimson red.
But having provided Helen with the appropriate clothing they immediately hit upon a snag, the trousers didn’t fit over her skirt, it bunched up under the waterproofs and made it look like she had a bustle.
So she removed the trouser and then had to take her skirt off.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she said when she noticed him looking at her in her knickers and tights.
“Well you could stay a bit longer,” he suggested lustily
“Don’t temp me,” she said quickly pulling on the waterproof trousers which were a little on the large side and the waistband sat just below her bust line.
Then she pulled on the top over her head before slipping on her shoes.
“That’s not going to work,” he said
“Why?” she asked with concern
“No one would wear footwear like that on a golf course,” he told her
“They are a bit of a giveaway, aren’t they?” she admitted
“Indeed” he agreed
“What can I wear then?” she asked
“Brenda’s trainers” he said
“What about all my stuff?” she queried
“I’ll bring it to the surgery on Monday, I’ll tell Karen that you left them in my car yesterday” he said
“God, you’re good at this stuff,” Helen said and she kissed him
After he had kissed her goodbye he let her out into the rain.
“Text me when you reach your car” he said
“Will do” she responded and off she went
“I love you” he called after her
Meanwhile he gathered her stuff together and put it in her backpack and put it and her overcoat by the front door.
Which was when he got a text
“Made it,” it read “I love you too”
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