Claire Jarvis went to the University of Downshire where she studied English at Abbottsford and it was for her, like many girls of her age, a life defining time.
She was the only child of well to do parents, who divorced when she was seven and as a result she had been thoroughly spoilt and was given everything her heart desired, except the one thing she craved most in all the world, their love and as a result she withdrew into her own world.
Although Claire was the oldest of the four girls in her dorm she actually looked the youngest by some distance.
Despite the fact that she had the body of a mature woman she had a baby face but she was destined to bloom into a very beautiful woman.
She was in halls for the first year and she shared with three other girls Amy Coates, a tall big busted redhead, Alison Holmes, a skinny girl with a bad case of OCD and Carole Bean a tall, beautiful and kindly girl who like herself was a brunette.
All four of the girls were studying English in one form or another and apart from their studies they also had in common the fact they were all natives of the Finchbottom Vale.
Claire was from Purplemere, Carole from Childean, Alison from Finchbottom and Amy from Shallowfield.
But being in the close company of the three girls brought her out of herself and the friendship that resulted from, on the face of it, 4 very different characters coming together, lasted for their lifetimes.
And as they got on so well the four of them decided very early on to rent a house between them for the second and third years.
However of all the girls Claire found herself drawn most to Carole Bean.
The fact that the two of them had more lectures and seminars together than the other two partly aided their closeness but it was mainly because they got each other, they shared a sense of humour as well as having similar tastes in music, a love of pizza and old romantic comedies and when it came time to go home to the Vale they normally travelled together, but what really drew them together in her first year was something that would define her world and shake her to the core.
It happened during the Easter Holiday of their first year when Carole returned to the flat to discover Claire laying naked on the sofa and Carole couldn’t take her eyes off of her and when Claire discovered that she had an audience Carole couldn’t keep her hands off her either and they made love for the first time.
Allthough neither of them could fully come to terms with the fact that they might be gay it didn’t prevent them from adding to their lesbian experiences throughout their University years and the fact that they were in love and because of that love they had some very exciting experiences together one of which was particularly memorable and occurred at the house they shared.
At the end of the year they found themselves alone in the rented house on Christmas Eve, they wanted to spend a whole day of their first Christmas together on their own, and they would travel back to the Vale early on Christmas Morning to spend Christmas with their families.
They were all packed for the next day apart from the presents which were still sitting underneath the tree, just to make the place more Christmassy.
And all that afternoon and most of the evening Claire was like a child.
“Can I open a present?” she asked Carole every ten minutes.
“Just one, please, please, please” she begged and after several hours of it, she was getting right on Carole’s tits to tell the truth.
She kept picking up the presents, shaking them, squeezing them, and even listening to them until finally Carole relented and as she headed upstairs to the loo she said.
“We can open one present each before we leave for midnight mass”
“Oh Goody” Claire squealed
When she came back down stairs she was expecting to find Claire waiting impatiently by the tree to open a present.
But instead she found her lying beneath the tree with wrapping paper loosely draped about her body and she wasn’t wearing any clothes.
“You go first” she said
Once Carole had un-wrapped her present and thoroughly enjoyed the contents they were very nearly late for midnight mass.
Thursday, 1 June 2017
Wednesday, 31 May 2017
Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (92) Christmas on the Ward
Kathryn Reed had just turned thirty and she was a nurse, but reaching her milestone birthday she realised she was in a bit of a rut.
She was single and had lived alone for four years since her last boyfriend Dave got his marching orders and although she enjoyed her job she thought she could be doing more.
She was a good nurse, quietly efficient, and very popular with staff and patients alike.
Kath was tall and slim, she was also pretty but with her yellow hair scraped back into a bun and her half-moon glasses perched on her nose she looked a bit severe and her flat hospital shoes did nothing for her long slender legs.
But none of that stopped3 her from being admired.
Because she had no family nearby and no other plans she was working all over Christmas to allow the nurses who did have families to spend it at home with them and because she was doing them a favour they would do the same for her over New Years.
She had done it every year since she broke up with Dave, but that Christmas she had another reason to be on duty, because she had fallen for one of the patients on her ward in a big way.
This was not the done thing on many levels, firstly because nurses and patient’s fraternising was a no no, and very unprofessional, and she was very professional, the second reason was because the patient was a girl.
Kathryn had always been bi, but had made the decision in her early twenties to be either fish or fowl, and she had chosen to be heterosexual, but having turned 30 with no one in her life she had decided to re-evaluate, but that was after Christine Gallaher arrived on her ward.
She was younger than Kath by about six years with Titian hair and pale skin and she thought she was lovely.
Kath was encouraged by the fact that Christine’s only visitors were her parents, and as far as she could tell she had had no romantic visitors.
Christine was only in for some relatively minor surgery and was due to go home on Christmas Eve but it was decided to keep her in as a precaution as her blood pressure was very erratic and had caused some concern.
Kathryn was not concerned because she had discovered the cause of the problem, and it was her.
She made the discovery while she was attending to daily observations, because she very quickly realised she was having a distinct effect on her the painfully shy girl, but Kathryn hoped she might bring her out of herself.
Because Kathryn liked her she took her time, the patients she didn’t like she wasted no time with.
They chatted as she went about her business and updated the chart, then she took her temperature, pulse and finally her blood pressure. Kath attended to the cuff around her arm and pumped the bulb and when she had a reading she took hold of Christine’s hand and said
“Just relax”
But the caress of her hand made her do anything but relax and Kath knew for certain that the attraction was mutual.
“Well I think we have the cure for what ails you” she said and smiled as she gave her hand a squeeze and Christine smiled back and blushed.
Because the hospital always made a concerted effort to get as many patients home as possible over Christmas there were only a few patients left on Clementine Ward and only Kath and one other nurse were on duty to cover it.
So there were times during the day when the staff and patient comings and goings were almost non-existent.
Alice Franklyn, the other nurse took her break at three o’clock on Christmas Day so that Kathryn would be able to take hers and be back before visiting started at 4.
Christine was in a six bed bay at the quiet end of the ward and her bed was at the far end and only one other bed was occupied which was next to hers but Mrs George was in the bathroom.
There were no screens up around Christine’s bed but Mrs George pulled her curtain around her bed so she could get changed in privacy after her shower.
On seeing the screens in place Kathryn decided to make her move as Christine may well be discharged the next day before Kathryn’s shift began on Boxing Day.
So she decided to strike while the iron was hot and walked briskly to her bed and brandished a sprig of mistletoe and said
“Happy Christmas Miss Gallaher”
Then she stooped and softly kissed Christine’s smiling lips, then again, and again until it just became one long sensual kiss, which only ended when Mrs George emerged from the bathroom
“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages” Kathryn whispered
“I’m glad” Christine whispered in reply “I have too”
Kathryn didn’t volunteer to work on Christmas Day the following year as she had a reason to be at home and Christine was very happy about that.
She was single and had lived alone for four years since her last boyfriend Dave got his marching orders and although she enjoyed her job she thought she could be doing more.
She was a good nurse, quietly efficient, and very popular with staff and patients alike.
Kath was tall and slim, she was also pretty but with her yellow hair scraped back into a bun and her half-moon glasses perched on her nose she looked a bit severe and her flat hospital shoes did nothing for her long slender legs.
But none of that stopped3 her from being admired.
Because she had no family nearby and no other plans she was working all over Christmas to allow the nurses who did have families to spend it at home with them and because she was doing them a favour they would do the same for her over New Years.
She had done it every year since she broke up with Dave, but that Christmas she had another reason to be on duty, because she had fallen for one of the patients on her ward in a big way.
This was not the done thing on many levels, firstly because nurses and patient’s fraternising was a no no, and very unprofessional, and she was very professional, the second reason was because the patient was a girl.
Kathryn had always been bi, but had made the decision in her early twenties to be either fish or fowl, and she had chosen to be heterosexual, but having turned 30 with no one in her life she had decided to re-evaluate, but that was after Christine Gallaher arrived on her ward.
She was younger than Kath by about six years with Titian hair and pale skin and she thought she was lovely.
Kath was encouraged by the fact that Christine’s only visitors were her parents, and as far as she could tell she had had no romantic visitors.
Christine was only in for some relatively minor surgery and was due to go home on Christmas Eve but it was decided to keep her in as a precaution as her blood pressure was very erratic and had caused some concern.
Kathryn was not concerned because she had discovered the cause of the problem, and it was her.
She made the discovery while she was attending to daily observations, because she very quickly realised she was having a distinct effect on her the painfully shy girl, but Kathryn hoped she might bring her out of herself.
Because Kathryn liked her she took her time, the patients she didn’t like she wasted no time with.
They chatted as she went about her business and updated the chart, then she took her temperature, pulse and finally her blood pressure. Kath attended to the cuff around her arm and pumped the bulb and when she had a reading she took hold of Christine’s hand and said
“Just relax”
But the caress of her hand made her do anything but relax and Kath knew for certain that the attraction was mutual.
“Well I think we have the cure for what ails you” she said and smiled as she gave her hand a squeeze and Christine smiled back and blushed.
Because the hospital always made a concerted effort to get as many patients home as possible over Christmas there were only a few patients left on Clementine Ward and only Kath and one other nurse were on duty to cover it.
So there were times during the day when the staff and patient comings and goings were almost non-existent.
Alice Franklyn, the other nurse took her break at three o’clock on Christmas Day so that Kathryn would be able to take hers and be back before visiting started at 4.
Christine was in a six bed bay at the quiet end of the ward and her bed was at the far end and only one other bed was occupied which was next to hers but Mrs George was in the bathroom.
There were no screens up around Christine’s bed but Mrs George pulled her curtain around her bed so she could get changed in privacy after her shower.
On seeing the screens in place Kathryn decided to make her move as Christine may well be discharged the next day before Kathryn’s shift began on Boxing Day.
So she decided to strike while the iron was hot and walked briskly to her bed and brandished a sprig of mistletoe and said
“Happy Christmas Miss Gallaher”
Then she stooped and softly kissed Christine’s smiling lips, then again, and again until it just became one long sensual kiss, which only ended when Mrs George emerged from the bathroom
“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages” Kathryn whispered
“I’m glad” Christine whispered in reply “I have too”
Kathryn didn’t volunteer to work on Christmas Day the following year as she had a reason to be at home and Christine was very happy about that.
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (69) A Poor Little Rich Boy’s Christmas
Phil Marshall was 22 years old and an only child who lived with his parents in a huge 10 bedroom house in the village of Shallowfield on the edge of the Dancingdean Forest, and he had led a very privileged life and he was spoilt and conceited and had grown accustomed to always getting what he wanted.
So when the Purcell’s came to stay for the family Christmas gathering in the 1990’s and he set his cap for their eldest daughter Denise he fully expected to get his wish and sleep her.
She was a year younger than him with flaming red shoulder length hair and a busty undulating form that made his heart race.
He planned on wasting no time in getting in his Cousin Denise’s bed but alas on the first night beneath the Marshall’s roof he fell asleep while he waited for the house to fall silent.
So on the second night he made sure he didn’t succumb to sleep before Denise succumbed to his lust.
It was just after 1 am when he tiptoed across the landing in a Santa Suit, full of expectation but as he slowly opened the door he was greeted by the discouraging sight of Denise cuddled beneath the duvet with the family housekeeper Josie McCalonan.
As he stood watching, Denise suddenly opened her eyes and realised he was there and said
“There’s no one in here for you Santa we’ve had out presents” and she smiled contentedly.
Phil closed the door and turned around to find Denise’s older sister Rachel standing by her open bedroom door and as Rachel had carried a torch for Phil for several years she said.
“If she’s not interested I wouldn’t say no to a present”
Rachel was not as pretty or busty or as sexy as her sister but she was obviously straight, she was willing and she was standing across the landing so Phil decided that she may have been second best but he knew that she would still give him a Christmas to remember.
So when the Purcell’s came to stay for the family Christmas gathering in the 1990’s and he set his cap for their eldest daughter Denise he fully expected to get his wish and sleep her.
She was a year younger than him with flaming red shoulder length hair and a busty undulating form that made his heart race.
He planned on wasting no time in getting in his Cousin Denise’s bed but alas on the first night beneath the Marshall’s roof he fell asleep while he waited for the house to fall silent.
So on the second night he made sure he didn’t succumb to sleep before Denise succumbed to his lust.
It was just after 1 am when he tiptoed across the landing in a Santa Suit, full of expectation but as he slowly opened the door he was greeted by the discouraging sight of Denise cuddled beneath the duvet with the family housekeeper Josie McCalonan.
As he stood watching, Denise suddenly opened her eyes and realised he was there and said
“There’s no one in here for you Santa we’ve had out presents” and she smiled contentedly.
Phil closed the door and turned around to find Denise’s older sister Rachel standing by her open bedroom door and as Rachel had carried a torch for Phil for several years she said.
“If she’s not interested I wouldn’t say no to a present”
Rachel was not as pretty or busty or as sexy as her sister but she was obviously straight, she was willing and she was standing across the landing so Phil decided that she may have been second best but he knew that she would still give him a Christmas to remember.
Tuesday, 30 May 2017
Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (78) It Happened One Christmas
(Part 01)
Sharpington-by-Sea is a traditional seaside resort complete with a Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, the Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park.
The Fun Park was the first purpose built amusement park to open in Britain, which had an assortment of rides, like the Rotor and the Wild Mouse, The Cyclone and the Morehouse Galloper, all very tame compared to 21st century roller coasters, but still fun.
It was also a popular resort for retirees and boasted a number of static caravan parks and one of them was the Whitecliff Hill Caravan Park which overlooked the town.
Kirsty Wishaw was petite and had beautiful straw coloured hair and at 27 years old she worked as the manager of the onsite Stephenson’s general store.
Stephenson’s had supermarkets and convenience stores all over Downshire.
Kirsty was a resident of Sharpington and had worked at the shop since she was at school.
Of course she had help in the shop in the form of a small group of part timers whom she knew she could trust which she needed because she had other demands on her time, namely her terminally ill mother who she had to care for, so the last thing she needed was another distraction which on one day in the middle of October came in the form of Phil Spurgeon.
Her eyes were drawn to him the moment he entered the shop, he was tall and slim with thick brown curly hair just long enough to cover his collar, with brown eyes and a toothy smile which lit up the whole shop.
Phil was a couple of years older that Kirsty and he was a writer who lived in one of the caravans on the far side of the park.
He was in the shop for about ten minutes and she caught him sneaking a look in her direction but when he eventually went to the counter with a basket full of essentials she was serving someone else, which she later thought was for the best really, she didn’t have time for such distractions, even very good looking ones.
So she did her best to ignore him which was difficult because he was gorgeous but she convinced herself it really was for the best.
Phil would have heartily agreed with her, he was finding writing his novel difficult enough as it was without the added complication of losing his heart to the lovely girl with the corn coloured hair.
He was an accountant by profession but after his marriage ended he decided he was going to give up his job and write a novel before life passed him by.
Phil’s neighbours up at Whitecliff Hill Caravan Park were the Taylor family, who unlike Phil had not chosen to be there because when they least expected it, life slapped them in the face and then it kicked them when they were on the ground.
The slap came when Michelle Taylor was diagnosed with breast cancer in January the previous year and needed surgery followed by chemo.
Her husband Martyn was a self-employed builder at the time with plenty of steady work and was able to increase his hours to cover for the shortfall.
Then came the first kick, at the end of February when Martyn was in a car crash and broke his leg.
In June there was another kick, when he needed surgery on his leg after he got an infection, but most painful kick came in October, when with bills going unpaid and Martyn still on crutches and Michelle unable to work for several months because of the surgery and two courses of chemo and with mounting debts and their savings long gone and no money for the mortgage they lost the house.
(Part 02)
So in December Martyn Taylor, wife Michelle, 9 year old son Sam and seven year old twins Ben and Mark moved into a caravan at Whitecliffe and they had a bleak Christmas.
Over the following eleven months the Taylor's worked hard to rebuild their lives, Michelle was declared cancer free and returned to work, and got a job in Sharpington.
Martyn found another job, not as a builder and not bringing home as much money as before the accident but it was steady and seemed to be more secure.
The boys did their bit as well by washing cars, cleaning windows and doing odd jobs on the park.
So by December they had managed to pay off the remainder of their debts and even had a bit left over for Christmas.
They were doing so well that in another six months they would be able to think about moving back into a house but then on the 20th December life kicked them again.
It had been a bitterly cold weekend with an icy wind blowing off the sea, all of which made it a very uncomfortable experience to live in a caravan.
So the Taylors had to employ additional heaters to combat the cold but during the night one of the electric heater in lounge area burst into flames and the fire rapidly spread.
Fortunately for the Taylors, Phil Spurgeon had been to a Christmas party at his cousin’s flat in Jubilee Court which was just down the hill in Sharpington and thanks to an over indulgence of family hospitality he walked along the prom to clear his head before going home, otherwise the caravan would have started spinning the moment he lay down.
Subsequently he didn’t get back to the caravan until a little after 4am to find the Taylors caravan well ablaze.
His first action was to phone 999 and his second was to raise the alarm with the occupants and the neighbouring homes which could quite conceivably have caught fire as well.
“Fire! Fire!” he shouted and banged on all the windows in turn frantically trying to raise the occupants, when a face appeared at the window.
The fire had engulfed one end of the caravan and had made the doors inaccessible so the big window at the opposite end became the route to safety.
The only problem was that the window only swung open about three inches before the catch was fully extended, so Phil had two choices, either smash the window or break the catch, so he looked around him to see if there was anything handy that might fit the bill, but he couldn’t see anything strong enough to break the glass or rigid enough to lever the catch, and then he spotted the rotary clothes dryer and quickly uprooted it from the metal socket in the ground and used it as a lever to break the lock and then propped it under the open window and a grateful and relieved Martyn Taylor started handing the kids out, and concerned neighbours whisked them away to safety just as wailing sirens could be heard in the distance, thankfully everyone was rescued safely but the Taylor's had lost everything.
(Part 03)
Kirsty Wishaw walked up the hill from Sharpington just after six o’clock as she did every morning and she was normally the only soul heading through Jubilee Park at that time on a winter morning but she had seen several people that morning but she thought nothing of it nor did she give the acrid smell in the air a second thought it was only when she got into Whitecliff Hill Caravan Park that she noticed blue lights in the distance and her first thought was a break in at the shop so she quickened her stride.
She soon realised that the blue glow from the lights was nowhere near the shop so her curiosity got the better of her so she went to investigate.
Which was when she saw Phil Spurgeon sitting on the back of an ambulance with a blanket wrapped around him.
Her heart sank immediately and all the feelings she had for him that she had been trying to suppress burst free and she ran towards him
“Oh my God are you alright?” she blurted “What happened, are you injured?”
“I’m fine” he said and when he saw how concerned she was for him he knew his novel wasn’t so important, he wanted her to be a distraction, in fact he wanted her to distract his socks off.
“Are you sure?” she asked with real concern
“Yes he’s good to go” Paramedic Andy Mason confirmed and slapped him on the back in fact over the next ten minutes a lot of people patted him on the back as they ambled along towards the scene of the fire, including several firemen.
The Taylor’s Caravan had completely gone but the homes either side were relatively unscathed, a bit black and sooty but nothing major, Phil couldn’t get back in his at that stage because the Firefighters wanted to make sure there was no damaged to the gas fittings.
As they stood looking at the mess Kirsty shivered and in response Phil put his arm around her and she liked how it felt, and a few minutes later they were joined by another resident Ken Baily
“Well done Phil” he said and shook his hand
“Well done for what?” she asked “Why does everyone keep patting you on the back?”
“Didn’t you tell her?” Ken asked him and Phil shook his head
“Young Phil hear raised the alarm and got everyone out”
“Really?” she asked “Why didn’t you say something?”
He didn’t reply but then it was a rhetorical question really, she knew the answer, he was just that type of person who acts without thinking and doesn’t believe he’s done anything special because he thinks he has merely done what any other human being would have done.
He was just thankful that everyone got out safely but he was desperately sad because the Taylor's had lost everything.
Being their neighbour he knew how hard they had worked to get back on their feet after having such torrid times and as they watched one firefighter raking through the ashes while another doused the embers it was truly evident that they had lost absolutely everything to the fire, smoke and water, including all the children’s clothes and the Christmas presents.
All that remained amidst the ashes were a few scraps of melted toys, half-burned books and scorched and tattered clothing.
“How cruel” Phil said
(Part 04)
All that remained amidst the ashes were a few scraps of melted toys, half-burned books and scorched and tattered clothing.
“How cruel” Phil said
“What do you mean” Ken asked
“I just think it’s cruel for a family who had worked so hard to be dealt such a blow” Phil said.
“This would be bad enough to endure at any time but just before Christmas just compounds the cruelty”
“Well I for one will not be standing for it” Kirsty said resolutely “Come on”
“Where are we going?” he asked as she took hold of Phil’s hand and led him away but she didn’t reply because she had turned her attention to her mobile phone.
Kirsty took him with her to the shop, she didn’t know what use he would be but as she had allowed her feelings free rein in his regard she wasn’t letting him go.
She opened the shop and put him to work making a hot drink while she opened the shop.
Once the drinks were made she settled him in her office, which was actually just a common room, where he sat in the easy chair in the corner and was instantly overcome be fatigue and fell asleep, so Kirsty put her coat over him and got on with the task in hand.
When she was on her mobile she was calling for reinforcements in the shape of two of her part timers, firstly because she knew it was going to be a busy day in the shop and secondly because she had a lot of phone calls to make.
One call was to a close friend of her late father, Bob Philips, who was a freelance journalist who worked predominantly for the Abbottsford Chronicle but he also had a well-read blog.
He was a heavy smoking, hard drinking down to earth man in his early fifties with a long suffering wife, Toni, who managed to bring up their three children virtually single handed and “what you see is what you get” summed him up as good as anything.
Despite all his faults though it was very difficult not to like him even if he could drive you to despair.
Bob was a chain smoker who on more than one occasion had almost set his car alight and apart from the smoking he was also a very heavy drinker.
He was often heard to say he had driven home because he was too drunk to walk, though in truth his friends never gave him the opportunity to be so rash.
Another of his well-worn sayings was that if he read about the evils of drinking he would give up reading.
His main diet was fast food and bar snacks in fact he thought that the three basic food groups were caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol.
His personal faults aside however, what was undoubtable was that he was a good writer even if he may have spent more time socializing than he should have done.
He was also a more intelligent man than he would have people believe, because he found that if people thought him an idiot they were more likely to open up than if they thought they were dealing with somebody who was more switched on.
His wife, Toni, had long ago given up on the chance of Bob writing “the Great Novel” that he spoke of in his youth.
Bob’s favorite quote was “Literature is the art of writing something that will be read twice; journalism something that will be grasped at once”.
(Part 05)
The second call that Kirsty made was to Melville’s Holidays who had almost two dozen empty holiday caravans on the site and persuaded her old school friend Natalie Melville that it would be a very effective PR exercise to let the family use one of them for the Christmas period.
“Ok stop” Natalie said “You had me at “melted snow” and “smouldering wrapping paper”
I’ll check with maintenance which ones are ready to use and drop a key off to you this afternoon”
“Thanks Nat”
The third call was to another old friend, Jenny Rawlings, who she knew would get the word around, after all the three best forms of communication were Television, Telephone and tell Jen.
And her final call was to Richard Stephenson at the company headquarters to get his permission to donate some food from the shop and she was very persuasive and took her less than ten minutes to get him to agree, so by the time Phil awoke from his surprisingly comfortable sleep in her “office” everything was arranged.
Natalie was good to her word and duly arrived at Whitecliff Hill just after 2 pm and gave Martyn and Michelle the key to one of the Melville holiday caravans on the park which they were welcome to use until the end of March, free of charge, which would give them time to get back on their feet.
The Taylors were overcome by Melville's generosity but that was only the beginning because Jenny had done her part and put the word around and in the space of a day-and-a-half, friends, family and strangers helped the family.
They brought clothing, footwear, bedding, crockery, cutlery, towels and all of the basics as well as a Christmas Tree and decorations.
Phil just stood open mouthed and looked on and when he could speak he asked
“When did you arrange all of this?”
“When you were asleep” she replied
“Really?” Phil said in amazement “You’ve worked wonders, you are a force of nature”
“Not really, I figured out what was wanted and made a few phone calls and ask nicely”
“And what do you do when there is something that you want?” he asked
“I ask nicely” she said slipping her hand in his “and hold his hand”
So due to the generosity of friends and strangers alike the Taylor's were able to enjoy their Christmas after all and look forward to a hopeful New Year just five days after they thought their Christmas dreams had gone up in smoke.
This heart-warming story just goes to prove without any shadow of doubt that the Christmas spirit truly dwells within the hearts of mankind.
And because of Kirsty’s generosity of heart and Phil’s heroism they decided that love wasn’t a distraction after all.
But Kirsty and Phil’s involvement with the Taylor’s Christmas continued right up until Christmas Eve, where after having spent much of Christmas Eve in each other’s arms, crept through the darkness, and left a Christmas sack on their doorstep.
So come Christmas Day the Taylor boys had more presents to open, toys, games, a Scalextric set, puzzles, footballs and signed football shirts for their favourite football team the Abbottsford Knights while Phil and Kirsty spent Christmas Day with her mum for what was to be their first and her mums last.
Sharpington-by-Sea is a traditional seaside resort complete with a Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, the Palladium ballroom, well maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, all the usual things to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course the Sharpington Fun Park.
The Fun Park was the first purpose built amusement park to open in Britain, which had an assortment of rides, like the Rotor and the Wild Mouse, The Cyclone and the Morehouse Galloper, all very tame compared to 21st century roller coasters, but still fun.
It was also a popular resort for retirees and boasted a number of static caravan parks and one of them was the Whitecliff Hill Caravan Park which overlooked the town.
Kirsty Wishaw was petite and had beautiful straw coloured hair and at 27 years old she worked as the manager of the onsite Stephenson’s general store.
Stephenson’s had supermarkets and convenience stores all over Downshire.
Kirsty was a resident of Sharpington and had worked at the shop since she was at school.
Of course she had help in the shop in the form of a small group of part timers whom she knew she could trust which she needed because she had other demands on her time, namely her terminally ill mother who she had to care for, so the last thing she needed was another distraction which on one day in the middle of October came in the form of Phil Spurgeon.
Her eyes were drawn to him the moment he entered the shop, he was tall and slim with thick brown curly hair just long enough to cover his collar, with brown eyes and a toothy smile which lit up the whole shop.
Phil was a couple of years older that Kirsty and he was a writer who lived in one of the caravans on the far side of the park.
He was in the shop for about ten minutes and she caught him sneaking a look in her direction but when he eventually went to the counter with a basket full of essentials she was serving someone else, which she later thought was for the best really, she didn’t have time for such distractions, even very good looking ones.
So she did her best to ignore him which was difficult because he was gorgeous but she convinced herself it really was for the best.
Phil would have heartily agreed with her, he was finding writing his novel difficult enough as it was without the added complication of losing his heart to the lovely girl with the corn coloured hair.
He was an accountant by profession but after his marriage ended he decided he was going to give up his job and write a novel before life passed him by.
Phil’s neighbours up at Whitecliff Hill Caravan Park were the Taylor family, who unlike Phil had not chosen to be there because when they least expected it, life slapped them in the face and then it kicked them when they were on the ground.
The slap came when Michelle Taylor was diagnosed with breast cancer in January the previous year and needed surgery followed by chemo.
Her husband Martyn was a self-employed builder at the time with plenty of steady work and was able to increase his hours to cover for the shortfall.
Then came the first kick, at the end of February when Martyn was in a car crash and broke his leg.
In June there was another kick, when he needed surgery on his leg after he got an infection, but most painful kick came in October, when with bills going unpaid and Martyn still on crutches and Michelle unable to work for several months because of the surgery and two courses of chemo and with mounting debts and their savings long gone and no money for the mortgage they lost the house.
(Part 02)
So in December Martyn Taylor, wife Michelle, 9 year old son Sam and seven year old twins Ben and Mark moved into a caravan at Whitecliffe and they had a bleak Christmas.
Over the following eleven months the Taylor's worked hard to rebuild their lives, Michelle was declared cancer free and returned to work, and got a job in Sharpington.
Martyn found another job, not as a builder and not bringing home as much money as before the accident but it was steady and seemed to be more secure.
The boys did their bit as well by washing cars, cleaning windows and doing odd jobs on the park.
So by December they had managed to pay off the remainder of their debts and even had a bit left over for Christmas.
They were doing so well that in another six months they would be able to think about moving back into a house but then on the 20th December life kicked them again.
It had been a bitterly cold weekend with an icy wind blowing off the sea, all of which made it a very uncomfortable experience to live in a caravan.
So the Taylors had to employ additional heaters to combat the cold but during the night one of the electric heater in lounge area burst into flames and the fire rapidly spread.
Fortunately for the Taylors, Phil Spurgeon had been to a Christmas party at his cousin’s flat in Jubilee Court which was just down the hill in Sharpington and thanks to an over indulgence of family hospitality he walked along the prom to clear his head before going home, otherwise the caravan would have started spinning the moment he lay down.
Subsequently he didn’t get back to the caravan until a little after 4am to find the Taylors caravan well ablaze.
His first action was to phone 999 and his second was to raise the alarm with the occupants and the neighbouring homes which could quite conceivably have caught fire as well.
“Fire! Fire!” he shouted and banged on all the windows in turn frantically trying to raise the occupants, when a face appeared at the window.
The fire had engulfed one end of the caravan and had made the doors inaccessible so the big window at the opposite end became the route to safety.
The only problem was that the window only swung open about three inches before the catch was fully extended, so Phil had two choices, either smash the window or break the catch, so he looked around him to see if there was anything handy that might fit the bill, but he couldn’t see anything strong enough to break the glass or rigid enough to lever the catch, and then he spotted the rotary clothes dryer and quickly uprooted it from the metal socket in the ground and used it as a lever to break the lock and then propped it under the open window and a grateful and relieved Martyn Taylor started handing the kids out, and concerned neighbours whisked them away to safety just as wailing sirens could be heard in the distance, thankfully everyone was rescued safely but the Taylor's had lost everything.
(Part 03)
Kirsty Wishaw walked up the hill from Sharpington just after six o’clock as she did every morning and she was normally the only soul heading through Jubilee Park at that time on a winter morning but she had seen several people that morning but she thought nothing of it nor did she give the acrid smell in the air a second thought it was only when she got into Whitecliff Hill Caravan Park that she noticed blue lights in the distance and her first thought was a break in at the shop so she quickened her stride.
She soon realised that the blue glow from the lights was nowhere near the shop so her curiosity got the better of her so she went to investigate.
Which was when she saw Phil Spurgeon sitting on the back of an ambulance with a blanket wrapped around him.
Her heart sank immediately and all the feelings she had for him that she had been trying to suppress burst free and she ran towards him
“Oh my God are you alright?” she blurted “What happened, are you injured?”
“I’m fine” he said and when he saw how concerned she was for him he knew his novel wasn’t so important, he wanted her to be a distraction, in fact he wanted her to distract his socks off.
“Are you sure?” she asked with real concern
“Yes he’s good to go” Paramedic Andy Mason confirmed and slapped him on the back in fact over the next ten minutes a lot of people patted him on the back as they ambled along towards the scene of the fire, including several firemen.
The Taylor’s Caravan had completely gone but the homes either side were relatively unscathed, a bit black and sooty but nothing major, Phil couldn’t get back in his at that stage because the Firefighters wanted to make sure there was no damaged to the gas fittings.
As they stood looking at the mess Kirsty shivered and in response Phil put his arm around her and she liked how it felt, and a few minutes later they were joined by another resident Ken Baily
“Well done Phil” he said and shook his hand
“Well done for what?” she asked “Why does everyone keep patting you on the back?”
“Didn’t you tell her?” Ken asked him and Phil shook his head
“Young Phil hear raised the alarm and got everyone out”
“Really?” she asked “Why didn’t you say something?”
He didn’t reply but then it was a rhetorical question really, she knew the answer, he was just that type of person who acts without thinking and doesn’t believe he’s done anything special because he thinks he has merely done what any other human being would have done.
He was just thankful that everyone got out safely but he was desperately sad because the Taylor's had lost everything.
Being their neighbour he knew how hard they had worked to get back on their feet after having such torrid times and as they watched one firefighter raking through the ashes while another doused the embers it was truly evident that they had lost absolutely everything to the fire, smoke and water, including all the children’s clothes and the Christmas presents.
All that remained amidst the ashes were a few scraps of melted toys, half-burned books and scorched and tattered clothing.
“How cruel” Phil said
(Part 04)
All that remained amidst the ashes were a few scraps of melted toys, half-burned books and scorched and tattered clothing.
“How cruel” Phil said
“What do you mean” Ken asked
“I just think it’s cruel for a family who had worked so hard to be dealt such a blow” Phil said.
“This would be bad enough to endure at any time but just before Christmas just compounds the cruelty”
“Well I for one will not be standing for it” Kirsty said resolutely “Come on”
“Where are we going?” he asked as she took hold of Phil’s hand and led him away but she didn’t reply because she had turned her attention to her mobile phone.
Kirsty took him with her to the shop, she didn’t know what use he would be but as she had allowed her feelings free rein in his regard she wasn’t letting him go.
She opened the shop and put him to work making a hot drink while she opened the shop.
Once the drinks were made she settled him in her office, which was actually just a common room, where he sat in the easy chair in the corner and was instantly overcome be fatigue and fell asleep, so Kirsty put her coat over him and got on with the task in hand.
When she was on her mobile she was calling for reinforcements in the shape of two of her part timers, firstly because she knew it was going to be a busy day in the shop and secondly because she had a lot of phone calls to make.
One call was to a close friend of her late father, Bob Philips, who was a freelance journalist who worked predominantly for the Abbottsford Chronicle but he also had a well-read blog.
He was a heavy smoking, hard drinking down to earth man in his early fifties with a long suffering wife, Toni, who managed to bring up their three children virtually single handed and “what you see is what you get” summed him up as good as anything.
Despite all his faults though it was very difficult not to like him even if he could drive you to despair.
Bob was a chain smoker who on more than one occasion had almost set his car alight and apart from the smoking he was also a very heavy drinker.
He was often heard to say he had driven home because he was too drunk to walk, though in truth his friends never gave him the opportunity to be so rash.
Another of his well-worn sayings was that if he read about the evils of drinking he would give up reading.
His main diet was fast food and bar snacks in fact he thought that the three basic food groups were caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol.
His personal faults aside however, what was undoubtable was that he was a good writer even if he may have spent more time socializing than he should have done.
He was also a more intelligent man than he would have people believe, because he found that if people thought him an idiot they were more likely to open up than if they thought they were dealing with somebody who was more switched on.
His wife, Toni, had long ago given up on the chance of Bob writing “the Great Novel” that he spoke of in his youth.
Bob’s favorite quote was “Literature is the art of writing something that will be read twice; journalism something that will be grasped at once”.
(Part 05)
The second call that Kirsty made was to Melville’s Holidays who had almost two dozen empty holiday caravans on the site and persuaded her old school friend Natalie Melville that it would be a very effective PR exercise to let the family use one of them for the Christmas period.
“Ok stop” Natalie said “You had me at “melted snow” and “smouldering wrapping paper”
I’ll check with maintenance which ones are ready to use and drop a key off to you this afternoon”
“Thanks Nat”
The third call was to another old friend, Jenny Rawlings, who she knew would get the word around, after all the three best forms of communication were Television, Telephone and tell Jen.
And her final call was to Richard Stephenson at the company headquarters to get his permission to donate some food from the shop and she was very persuasive and took her less than ten minutes to get him to agree, so by the time Phil awoke from his surprisingly comfortable sleep in her “office” everything was arranged.
Natalie was good to her word and duly arrived at Whitecliff Hill just after 2 pm and gave Martyn and Michelle the key to one of the Melville holiday caravans on the park which they were welcome to use until the end of March, free of charge, which would give them time to get back on their feet.
The Taylors were overcome by Melville's generosity but that was only the beginning because Jenny had done her part and put the word around and in the space of a day-and-a-half, friends, family and strangers helped the family.
They brought clothing, footwear, bedding, crockery, cutlery, towels and all of the basics as well as a Christmas Tree and decorations.
Phil just stood open mouthed and looked on and when he could speak he asked
“When did you arrange all of this?”
“When you were asleep” she replied
“Really?” Phil said in amazement “You’ve worked wonders, you are a force of nature”
“Not really, I figured out what was wanted and made a few phone calls and ask nicely”
“And what do you do when there is something that you want?” he asked
“I ask nicely” she said slipping her hand in his “and hold his hand”
So due to the generosity of friends and strangers alike the Taylor's were able to enjoy their Christmas after all and look forward to a hopeful New Year just five days after they thought their Christmas dreams had gone up in smoke.
This heart-warming story just goes to prove without any shadow of doubt that the Christmas spirit truly dwells within the hearts of mankind.
And because of Kirsty’s generosity of heart and Phil’s heroism they decided that love wasn’t a distraction after all.
But Kirsty and Phil’s involvement with the Taylor’s Christmas continued right up until Christmas Eve, where after having spent much of Christmas Eve in each other’s arms, crept through the darkness, and left a Christmas sack on their doorstep.
So come Christmas Day the Taylor boys had more presents to open, toys, games, a Scalextric set, puzzles, footballs and signed football shirts for their favourite football team the Abbottsford Knights while Phil and Kirsty spent Christmas Day with her mum for what was to be their first and her mums last.
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (76) A Poor Little Rich Girl’s Christmas
Sarah Atkinson was 21 years old and an only child who lived with her parents in a huge 10 bedroom house in the village of Shallowfield on the edge of the Dancingdean Forest, and she had led a very privileged life and she was spoilt and conceited and had grown accustomed to always getting what she wanted.
So when the Quinn’s and the Dowd’s came to stay for the family Christmas gathering in the 1990’s and she set her cap for the formers son Mike, and she fully expected to get her wish and he would fall for her.
He was two years older than her with black wavy hair and wild gypsy eyes and a muscular well-toned physique that made her swoon.
She was certain sure that with little or no effort on her part her Cousin would soon be in her bed because she always got what she wanted.
Sarah wasted no time in making her move, so on his first night beneath the Atkinson’s roof she waited for the house to fall silent and then tiptoed across the landing wearing only a cotton shirt unbuttoned from top to bottom.
She opened the door and stepped inside to find Mike sitting up in bed reading.
“I thought you might want some company”
She said
“Yes, but not you” he replied coolly
Sarah ignored his retort and climbed on to the bed and sat down facing him, perching on his knees, with legs astride him.
“So are you pleased to see me?”
“Ecstatic”
“Kiss me then” she said but he did nothing
“Kiss me Mike” she demanded
“I don’t think so” he retorted
“Come on you know you want to” she said
“Yes” he agreed “but not you”
“What?”
“I don’t want to kiss you” he repeated and pushed her off him and slipped out of bed
“You’re rejecting me?” she said in disbelief as he pulled her to her feet and dragged her towards the door.
“Yes I am” he said
“That doesn’t happen, I’m young and gorgeous, and I don’t get rejected” she explained “I am the one that does the rejecting”
“On the contrary” he said and shoved her out the door just as Deirdre Dowd was coming the other way.
Deidre was smaller, plainer and less showy than Sarah so her jaw dropped when she saw the mousy little thing walk into Mike’s arms.
“You’re passing on me, for that?” she said angrily
“Always” he replied
“I am superior to her in every conceivable way” Sarah said
“What does she have that I don’t?”
“My love” he replied and closed the door in her face.
“Bastard” she said under her breath and stood in the darkness trying to figure out what went wrong, until light spilled onto the landing and highlighted Sarah’s depressing moment.
Also illuminated in the light was Deirdres 20 year old brother Tom
“Come here” she panted
“Why?” Tom asked
“Because Christmas has come early for you” she replied.
So when the Quinn’s and the Dowd’s came to stay for the family Christmas gathering in the 1990’s and she set her cap for the formers son Mike, and she fully expected to get her wish and he would fall for her.
He was two years older than her with black wavy hair and wild gypsy eyes and a muscular well-toned physique that made her swoon.
She was certain sure that with little or no effort on her part her Cousin would soon be in her bed because she always got what she wanted.
Sarah wasted no time in making her move, so on his first night beneath the Atkinson’s roof she waited for the house to fall silent and then tiptoed across the landing wearing only a cotton shirt unbuttoned from top to bottom.
She opened the door and stepped inside to find Mike sitting up in bed reading.
“I thought you might want some company”
She said
“Yes, but not you” he replied coolly
Sarah ignored his retort and climbed on to the bed and sat down facing him, perching on his knees, with legs astride him.
“So are you pleased to see me?”
“Ecstatic”
“Kiss me then” she said but he did nothing
“Kiss me Mike” she demanded
“I don’t think so” he retorted
“Come on you know you want to” she said
“Yes” he agreed “but not you”
“What?”
“I don’t want to kiss you” he repeated and pushed her off him and slipped out of bed
“You’re rejecting me?” she said in disbelief as he pulled her to her feet and dragged her towards the door.
“Yes I am” he said
“That doesn’t happen, I’m young and gorgeous, and I don’t get rejected” she explained “I am the one that does the rejecting”
“On the contrary” he said and shoved her out the door just as Deirdre Dowd was coming the other way.
Deidre was smaller, plainer and less showy than Sarah so her jaw dropped when she saw the mousy little thing walk into Mike’s arms.
“You’re passing on me, for that?” she said angrily
“Always” he replied
“I am superior to her in every conceivable way” Sarah said
“What does she have that I don’t?”
“My love” he replied and closed the door in her face.
“Bastard” she said under her breath and stood in the darkness trying to figure out what went wrong, until light spilled onto the landing and highlighted Sarah’s depressing moment.
Also illuminated in the light was Deirdres 20 year old brother Tom
“Come here” she panted
“Why?” Tom asked
“Because Christmas has come early for you” she replied.
Monday, 29 May 2017
Downshire Diary – (73) The Homecoming Muse
(Part 01)
Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the north but our story begins in the East, or more precisely, 20 miles inland from Sharpington-By-Sea, equidistant between Finchbottom and Pepperstock Green, in the sprawling village of Denmead.
Owen Carrington’s Uncle Glyn died on New Year’s Day and left him his Cottage and a small cash sum, more than enough to keep him going for a few more years.
He left it to him because he felt they were kindred spirits, he wanted to be a writer himself but his father made him get a proper job, Owen really liked him and he was a great story teller, and it was his Uncles colourful tales that helped him when he was writing his novels.
His death came as a great shock as it was sudden though not unsurprising given his health.
So that was how he found himself living in a lovely Victorian Cottage in the quaint Downshire Village of Denmead.
It was a very tranquil place though not without its distractions.
From his study he could look out through the open French windows and across the expanse of lawn to a stand of ancient woodland, there was no fence to separate garden and wood the two just merged.
And on the other side of the wood was the hub of the village, the Green Oak, everyone seemed to go there at some point, either for a drink, the restaurant or the coffee suite.
As a writer Owen’s star was definitely in the ascendency after the success of his first Romantic novel “The Maiden Muse” but the change in the fortunes of his writing career were not universally well received, his publisher liked it, his new agent loved it, the bank manager was ecstatic about it but his mother was disappointed by it because she thought it was a bit girlie.
But it wasn’t just his writing career that was climbing high, so was his love life thanks to his muse and lover, Juliana Molesworth, who had brought his writers block to an end, and since she had become his muse he had become a writer of bodice ripping romances which had proved to be an occupation which suited him very well indeed.
And it suited him in many ways, but the main benefit was that he was able to work at home, so he had no tedious commute every day and his working day was flexible to the point that some days he didn’t write at all.
This afforded him the opportunity of playing a round of Golf during the working week when most people had their noses to the grindstone or even taking a day out to go fishing.
(Part 02)
Owen Carrington’s muse and lover Juliana Molesworth, was in her third year at the University of Downshire where she studied English at Abbottsford.
In the short time they had been together she had come to mean everything to him so in the final weeks of the year he did something that rocked her world, he asked her to marry him, and she said yes.
Since the day of the proposal they missed each other terribly while she was at University and he was in Denmead time hung heavy so he was really looking forward to her coming home for the three week Christmas break.
Due to some heavy snow fall over night and him having to clear the drive before he could get the car out of the garage, he was about forty minutes late leaving for the drive to Abbottsford.
He called ahead to let Juliana know he was running late but she was ok about it as she was all behind herself.
He got to Juliana’s place around one o’clock and miracle of miracles she was ready to go.
Half an hour after he finished loading the car they finally got away when she had finished saying her goodbyes of course.
When they got back to Denmead he thought Juliana would be eager to be reunited with her nearest and dearest, but it turned out that she was more eager to be reunited with him.
“Don’t take me home yet” she said as they entered the village
“Aren’t you in a hurry to see your mum and dad?” he asked
“Yes, but I want to spend a couple of hours with my fiancé first” she said
“I like the way that sounds” Owen replied
He parked on the drive and walked to the door and went inside and they had barely got through the front door before she launched herself at him and kissed him.
“Merry Christmas” she said
They spent a pleasant couple of hours cuddling on the sofa as they watched a classic Christmas movie and when it was finished he was allowed to take her home to be reunited with her family.
It was starting to snow again as he reversed onto the Molesworth’s drive, it was little more than a flurry really, barely even enough to qualify as a light shower.
He unloaded the car while Juliana rushed inside and hugged her waiting parents and he traipsed in with her stuff amidst the scene of reuniting embraces and jovial laughter.
And after a farewell kiss when his duties were fulfilled he left the Molesworth’s to their reunion and drove home.
But he knew he would see his homecoming muse again the next day.
Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the north but our story begins in the East, or more precisely, 20 miles inland from Sharpington-By-Sea, equidistant between Finchbottom and Pepperstock Green, in the sprawling village of Denmead.
Owen Carrington’s Uncle Glyn died on New Year’s Day and left him his Cottage and a small cash sum, more than enough to keep him going for a few more years.
He left it to him because he felt they were kindred spirits, he wanted to be a writer himself but his father made him get a proper job, Owen really liked him and he was a great story teller, and it was his Uncles colourful tales that helped him when he was writing his novels.
His death came as a great shock as it was sudden though not unsurprising given his health.
So that was how he found himself living in a lovely Victorian Cottage in the quaint Downshire Village of Denmead.
It was a very tranquil place though not without its distractions.
From his study he could look out through the open French windows and across the expanse of lawn to a stand of ancient woodland, there was no fence to separate garden and wood the two just merged.
And on the other side of the wood was the hub of the village, the Green Oak, everyone seemed to go there at some point, either for a drink, the restaurant or the coffee suite.
As a writer Owen’s star was definitely in the ascendency after the success of his first Romantic novel “The Maiden Muse” but the change in the fortunes of his writing career were not universally well received, his publisher liked it, his new agent loved it, the bank manager was ecstatic about it but his mother was disappointed by it because she thought it was a bit girlie.
But it wasn’t just his writing career that was climbing high, so was his love life thanks to his muse and lover, Juliana Molesworth, who had brought his writers block to an end, and since she had become his muse he had become a writer of bodice ripping romances which had proved to be an occupation which suited him very well indeed.
And it suited him in many ways, but the main benefit was that he was able to work at home, so he had no tedious commute every day and his working day was flexible to the point that some days he didn’t write at all.
This afforded him the opportunity of playing a round of Golf during the working week when most people had their noses to the grindstone or even taking a day out to go fishing.
(Part 02)
Owen Carrington’s muse and lover Juliana Molesworth, was in her third year at the University of Downshire where she studied English at Abbottsford.
In the short time they had been together she had come to mean everything to him so in the final weeks of the year he did something that rocked her world, he asked her to marry him, and she said yes.
Since the day of the proposal they missed each other terribly while she was at University and he was in Denmead time hung heavy so he was really looking forward to her coming home for the three week Christmas break.
Due to some heavy snow fall over night and him having to clear the drive before he could get the car out of the garage, he was about forty minutes late leaving for the drive to Abbottsford.
He called ahead to let Juliana know he was running late but she was ok about it as she was all behind herself.
He got to Juliana’s place around one o’clock and miracle of miracles she was ready to go.
Half an hour after he finished loading the car they finally got away when she had finished saying her goodbyes of course.
When they got back to Denmead he thought Juliana would be eager to be reunited with her nearest and dearest, but it turned out that she was more eager to be reunited with him.
“Don’t take me home yet” she said as they entered the village
“Aren’t you in a hurry to see your mum and dad?” he asked
“Yes, but I want to spend a couple of hours with my fiancé first” she said
“I like the way that sounds” Owen replied
He parked on the drive and walked to the door and went inside and they had barely got through the front door before she launched herself at him and kissed him.
“Merry Christmas” she said
They spent a pleasant couple of hours cuddling on the sofa as they watched a classic Christmas movie and when it was finished he was allowed to take her home to be reunited with her family.
It was starting to snow again as he reversed onto the Molesworth’s drive, it was little more than a flurry really, barely even enough to qualify as a light shower.
He unloaded the car while Juliana rushed inside and hugged her waiting parents and he traipsed in with her stuff amidst the scene of reuniting embraces and jovial laughter.
And after a farewell kiss when his duties were fulfilled he left the Molesworth’s to their reunion and drove home.
But he knew he would see his homecoming muse again the next day.
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (72) Christmas Party Girls
Steve Danone hated office parties, but at Cooper, Brandon and Holland Accountants in Shallowfield, it was an annual ritual that apparently had to be endured.
The reason he didn’t like them was that all the really nice girls turned out to have no taste in men whatsoever, the plain homely looking ones turned out to be total sluts, the friendly ones got all bitter and depressed and the outgoing bubbly ones just got falling down drunk.
And it was worse that year in particular because there was one girl that he particularly fancied, Carol Herd, and he really didn’t want to see what became of her after a few drinks so he went across the street to the Plough for a couple of hours and when he returned the party was over.
There were one or two revellers remaining, a middle-aged man called David was unconscious at his desk, a girl called Ellie from accounts was throwing up in her waste bin and a plain looking woman from legal called Dorcas was spread-eagled across the conference room table singing “O Holy Night”.
And the only thing about the scene that surprised him was that she was the senior partner.
“Same old, same old” he said as he returned to his office where he found Carol Herd sitting in his leather chair behind his desk.
“I think you are in the wrong office,” he said thinking she was drunk but she stood up and walked towards him
“Oh I don’t believe I am” she said, stone cold sober “Especially now that you’ve finally got here”
The reason he didn’t like them was that all the really nice girls turned out to have no taste in men whatsoever, the plain homely looking ones turned out to be total sluts, the friendly ones got all bitter and depressed and the outgoing bubbly ones just got falling down drunk.
And it was worse that year in particular because there was one girl that he particularly fancied, Carol Herd, and he really didn’t want to see what became of her after a few drinks so he went across the street to the Plough for a couple of hours and when he returned the party was over.
There were one or two revellers remaining, a middle-aged man called David was unconscious at his desk, a girl called Ellie from accounts was throwing up in her waste bin and a plain looking woman from legal called Dorcas was spread-eagled across the conference room table singing “O Holy Night”.
And the only thing about the scene that surprised him was that she was the senior partner.
“Same old, same old” he said as he returned to his office where he found Carol Herd sitting in his leather chair behind his desk.
“I think you are in the wrong office,” he said thinking she was drunk but she stood up and walked towards him
“Oh I don’t believe I am” she said, stone cold sober “Especially now that you’ve finally got here”
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