The village of Clarence is 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.
The 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.
There were only three small bodies of water left in the Vale now one in Mornington, one in Childean and third of course was Purplemere, which is where Clarence is situated and where our story takes place.
It was the shortest day of the year
and it was a cold and grey December morning and there was a biting wind that made
Paul Knights skin tingle and take his breath away as he busied himself running
errands around the village.
But after all the errands were complete he headed towards The Rose and Crown where he
took refuge in the bar and made himself comfortable beside the fire.
Paul was preparing to get on the outside of a pint of Mornington Ale and a large Brandy when his eyes were drawn to the centre of the room where a striking blonde was sitting with her long slender legs crossed.
She had a pen in one hand and a large
drink in the other and she was concentrating on something, that made her frown,
a crossword clue or perhaps a Sudoku and her bottom lip pursed slightly
downward almost like a wilting pink rose petal.
He noted that her eye, kind of crinkled up, and that combined with a slight
inclination of her head, gave him the impression she was confused and he
assumed her confusion was over whatever it was she was studying.
He took a sip of Ale and turned his attention to his newspaper and then he noticed that the room had got brighter and looked up to find a flash of golden light in the hair of the blonde as if her golden curls had ignited, but it was lit by a shaft of sunlight which had burst through the grey December skies.
He smiled at the sight of the sun,
because it was the shortest day and to have that short day full of greyness and
gloom was quite depressing and he would have been content with the sun’s
appearance for that reason alone, but then Paul’s gaze fell upon the Blonde
again and he realised the sun had made her squint and this in turn screwed up
her nose and caused her to sneeze.
She sneezed quite indelicately and then again and again and this fit of
sneezing had an added interest to him because apart from the obvious effects the
shaft of sunlight brightening the room, or setting her blonde curls ablaze, it
had also rendered her blouse quite transparent and she had little else on
beneath it, and each sneeze caused the contents to rearrange themselves rather
delightfully within her non-existent blouse and her sneezing fit had taken on a
more sensual quality, he took a moment to look around the room and realised he
was the only patron looking in her direction and was therefore enjoying a
private show, but alas all too soon the sneezing stopped, but he was pleased to
see that her breathing had not and he watched with lustful fascination as she
took each subsequent breath, while she was blissfully unaware that her blouse had
become translucent.
Of course, he should have done the gentlemanly thing and looked away or at the very least alerted her to her situation but in truth he was enjoying it too much.
Her sneezing fit had obviously rearranged
her assets to such an extent that she needed to make some corrections to the dispossession
of her assets.
But alas all good things must come to an end and thanks to a thoughtless cloud the
shaft of sunlight was snuffed out and the show was over.
It had been a most pleasant respite and had warmed Paul up more than the fire
and the Brandy, studying her most wondrous topography and he thought it was amazing
how the little things in life, not that they were small by any measure, but
little things can brighten up the dullest of winter days and it may have been
an un-gentlemanly thing to do, ungallant he supposed not to have averted his
gaze, but he preferred to think of it as a Christmas treat, or a gift from the
pagan Gods on the Winter Solstice.
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