Shallowfield sat on the southern edge of the Finchbottom Vale and was bordered on the other side by the Dancingdean forest and the town’s fortunes had always relied largely upon forestry and agriculture for its survival.
In the post war years with rationing and a shortage of work a lot of people moved away from the area and it only just survived and the community around Teardrop Lake fared even worse.
Only a few of the houses around the Lake were thriving, a lot of the houses had been rented out and those that hadn’t were in a poor state of repair, some too such an extent they were little more than ruins.
But by the 70s however things were beginning to change, thanks mainly to tourism as a result of an increase in leisure time.
This trend was reflected by the fact that the previously derelict Shallowfield Lodge, which had been inherited by a young couple from Lincolnshire, Rob and Sheryl Brown, was being turned into a Hotel.
From then on Shallowfield went from strength to strength which was echoed by the fortunes of the Claremont Hotel.
It was once the home of a wealthy Downshire family but like so many similar great houses in the county it fell into disuse as the fortunes of the owners suffered after the Great War.
It had had many reincarnations since then, particularly in the years between the wars and had been used for many things over the post war years but it wasn’t until the 60s that it became the Claremont Hotel.
However things had got tough in the Hotel trade with the success of Travelodge, Premier Inn and Holiday Inn Express and so places like the Claremont needed to offer something extra to attract the guests which was why Clara Davits was in Shallowfield, because she was an events manager and in December there was an awful lot of scope for such things and Clara was good at her job.
She was also exceptionally hard working, and that December she was working even harder than ever although that was due in no small measure to the fact that she needed distracting.
That was because her husband Owen was a sergeant in the Downshire Light Infantry and was currently on exercises with the regiment firstly in Brunei for jungle operational training and from there to Canada for battle training on the prairies of Alberta.
It was a three month absence which was passing agonizingly slowly for her.
She was able to skype him occasionally and he messaged her when he could but it wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.
However the two back to back deployments meant she wouldn’t see him until the New Year and as that would have been their first Christmas together she had been very down, which is why she threw herself into her work.
Despite that however she was prone to bouts of daydreaming as she unpacked the Christmas table decoration.
She knew she should get busy on the rest of them to meet her target but she was overcome with tiredness so she decided to have a mug of coffee instead to try and wake herself up, so she sat down on one of the sofa’s to drink it and promptly fell asleep instead and had a long luxurious nap.
When she awoke it was two am and the place was in darkness, obviously someone had come along and thought the room was empty and turned out the lights.
She was still feeling tired so she decided to go outside for some fresh air so she donned her coat, hat, scarf and gloves and went outside.
The snow that had fallen on and off all day had petered out and when she looked up at the night sky she could see breaks in the cloud and the multitude of twinkling stars beyond.
Clara looked back at the hotel where her Christmas lights were visible and then up to the stars again and she addressed them curtly
“Yes I know you’re beautiful, but you’re just showing off”
She walked around the grounds for about half an hour through the fresh fallen snow and when she was done she made her way back towards the hotel when her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Even if she had been able to retrieve it from her pocket with her gloved hand she wouldn’t have been able to operate it so she waited until she had tromped back across the terrace to the warmth of the hotel before she removed her glove and checked her phone.
The source of the vibrating was a text message so with her un-gloved finger she selected “unread messages” and her heart skipped a beat when she realised it was from Owen.
The message seemed to take an eternity to open but when it did she couldn’t believe her eyes as she read,
“Just landed in London, exercise cut short, unexpected ten day leave, see you in 36 hours, counting the minutes”
“Me too” she said and hugged the phone before she ran back outside and she began to laugh out loud as she ran around like a child experiencing its first sight of snow culminating in her falling backwards into a virgin bank of snow.
Despite the lateness of the hour she was seen by one of the guests on the second floor.
“Look at that crazy woman, making snow angels at this time of night” he said to his wife who agreed wholeheartedly that she was crazy.
And Clara would not have disagreed, she was crazy, crazy in love, and her love was coming home for Christmas.
Wednesday, 7 June 2017
Mornington-By-Mere – (95) The Unexpected Gift
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.
The buildings on the airfield itself were converted into commercial premise while the former married quarters were made available to rent and the Vineyard family moved into number 17 Military Row on the 18th of December 2014 but Donna Vineyard was the only one still there five Christmas’ later but she shared the house with her boyfriend David Smith.
They were both hard working 30 years old’s, Donna at the Digitize Image Lab up at Mornington Field and David farmed up at Smithfield’s Farm with his family.
That year it was Donna and David’s turn to play hosts to the parents for Christmas dinner, which Donna achieved with great aplomb.
But after dinner, when the table was cleared away and the dishwasher was loaded, it was time for present giving, and this Donna didn’t take in her stride, and that was because she didn’t really like receiving unknown Christmas Presents.
Donna preferred to either get money or have already selected the gift and instructed the giver, or preferably she would actually buy it herself and then give it to the presenter for them to wrap.
That way she avoided having to employ one of the stock phrases for responding to the Christmas present she would rather not have received.
Her comment’s included,
“Thanks a lot”,
“My word! What a gift”,
“You shouldn't have”
And “Wow”
Or “Well, well, well”
She would have liked to have been facetious but she loved Christmas too much to say something like
“If I had put on 4 stones it would have fitted me perfectly”,
“It's lovely, but I'm worried about the jealousy it may create”,
“Just my luck to get this, on the Christmas I promised to give all my gifts to charity”
Or “Unfortunately, I am about to enter MI5's Witness Protection programme”
So imagine her dismay when her boyfriend of five years presented her with an unexpected gift in front of all the assembled family.
“Oh I’ll open that later” she said “let someone else go next “
But they all insisted she open it and inside she was seething, but externally she had to adopt a calmer stance and David knew precisely what was going on behind the façade and smiled at her discomfiture as he put the gift box in her hand as she sat down on the chair.
It was a box about the size of a bag of sugar and painfully aware that all eyes were on her she pulled the ribbon which undid the bow, then she removed the lid to reveal a smaller similarly wrapped package which she removed and smiled with gritted teeth.
David knew that parcels within parcels were another one of Donna’s pet hates, which is why he did it.
So she again pulled the ribbon which undid the bow, then she removed the lid to reveal another smaller similarly wrapped package.
This was repeated twice more before she held a small bundle wrapped in tissue which, urged on by the spectators, she began to unwrap, and the only audible sound was that of Donnas teeth grinding.
But finally the last layer had been conquered and everyone expected one of her stock response’s but instead there was just silence, even the grinding of teeth had desisted because her mouth was open as she stared at the item at the centre of the unfolded tissue paper, which was a platinum set solitaire diamond engagement ring.
No one else in the room could see it so they weren’t entirely sure what was going on until David asked
“So Donna Vineyard, will you marry me?”
The buildings on the airfield itself were converted into commercial premise while the former married quarters were made available to rent and the Vineyard family moved into number 17 Military Row on the 18th of December 2014 but Donna Vineyard was the only one still there five Christmas’ later but she shared the house with her boyfriend David Smith.
They were both hard working 30 years old’s, Donna at the Digitize Image Lab up at Mornington Field and David farmed up at Smithfield’s Farm with his family.
That year it was Donna and David’s turn to play hosts to the parents for Christmas dinner, which Donna achieved with great aplomb.
But after dinner, when the table was cleared away and the dishwasher was loaded, it was time for present giving, and this Donna didn’t take in her stride, and that was because she didn’t really like receiving unknown Christmas Presents.
Donna preferred to either get money or have already selected the gift and instructed the giver, or preferably she would actually buy it herself and then give it to the presenter for them to wrap.
That way she avoided having to employ one of the stock phrases for responding to the Christmas present she would rather not have received.
Her comment’s included,
“Thanks a lot”,
“My word! What a gift”,
“You shouldn't have”
And “Wow”
Or “Well, well, well”
She would have liked to have been facetious but she loved Christmas too much to say something like
“If I had put on 4 stones it would have fitted me perfectly”,
“It's lovely, but I'm worried about the jealousy it may create”,
“Just my luck to get this, on the Christmas I promised to give all my gifts to charity”
Or “Unfortunately, I am about to enter MI5's Witness Protection programme”
So imagine her dismay when her boyfriend of five years presented her with an unexpected gift in front of all the assembled family.
“Oh I’ll open that later” she said “let someone else go next “
But they all insisted she open it and inside she was seething, but externally she had to adopt a calmer stance and David knew precisely what was going on behind the façade and smiled at her discomfiture as he put the gift box in her hand as she sat down on the chair.
It was a box about the size of a bag of sugar and painfully aware that all eyes were on her she pulled the ribbon which undid the bow, then she removed the lid to reveal a smaller similarly wrapped package which she removed and smiled with gritted teeth.
David knew that parcels within parcels were another one of Donna’s pet hates, which is why he did it.
So she again pulled the ribbon which undid the bow, then she removed the lid to reveal another smaller similarly wrapped package.
This was repeated twice more before she held a small bundle wrapped in tissue which, urged on by the spectators, she began to unwrap, and the only audible sound was that of Donnas teeth grinding.
But finally the last layer had been conquered and everyone expected one of her stock response’s but instead there was just silence, even the grinding of teeth had desisted because her mouth was open as she stared at the item at the centre of the unfolded tissue paper, which was a platinum set solitaire diamond engagement ring.
No one else in the room could see it so they weren’t entirely sure what was going on until David asked
“So Donna Vineyard, will you marry me?”
Tuesday, 6 June 2017
Tales from the Finchbottom Vale – (95) The Christmas Surprise
In this noisy city he made his way through the darkness as the people rushed by at a frantic pace as a quiet hush fell with a fall of snowflakes and the holiday rush seemed to slow down if only briefly.
It was Christmas Eve, and he had been summoned, and as he had no other place to be, he went along.
Bay View House was a large detached Victorian House sitting on a two acre plot so he walked up the gravel drive.
He turned the key he had been given in the lock and stepped into the house of a man he didn't know.
The house was lit with an abundance of Christmas lights that twinkled against the red brickwork.
The door was stained cedar red and sported a fresh wreath bearing a banner that said “Ho, Ho, Ho”
The lights were on inside the house but it appeared there was no one home but it was warm and cozy and as he had walked the icy streets through heavy snow for twenty minutes to get to the house he welcomed it.
But he didn’t know what to do next, the letter he received at the hotel with the door key, simply told him to go to the house and let himself in.
He stood in the entrance liberally decorated with evergreens, and he drank in the nostalgia inducing atmosphere, but after a few minutes he slipped off his coat and walked towards the drawing room, as per the instructions he received, and pushed open the door and stepped inside and when he looked ahead of him he did a double take because standing at the end of the room by the Christmas tree was Angie, his wife.
“Angie?” he asked and she squealed and launched herself at him.
The reason that he was surprised to see her was that she was supposed to be in Alaska and she wasn’t expected home until Christmas Eve, which was four days away.
She was a geologist working for Transglobal Oil and Gas Exploration and she was supposed to conducting a survey and the trip was supposed to be for a month.
His contact with her had been sketchy, they skyped occasionally, more so when she was in Canada, not so much in Alaska due to the remoteness of the region she was working in.
They also exchanged email, which was also problematic, but she would record little video messages on her phone and she would send them to him whenever she could get a signal.
He really looked forward to getting them and the first thing he did when he got up in the morning was to check his phone.
But there had been nothing for two days, and he had been missing her terribly and he had been counting the days until she was home, which should have been in four days.
Which was when they were to spend ten days together, including Christmas at the Abbottsford Regents Hotel, before she would be off again for another month.
But there she was in his arms kissing him and although he didn’t care why, he asked anyway.
“Why are you home early? And whose house is this?”
“The house belongs to my boss, he’s been brilliant and his wife set up the surprise, the enigmatic message and the key” She explained “They’re in New York until Christmas Eve, and we can stay here before we go on to the Regents as planned” she explained
“Yes but why are you back early? Not that I’m complaining” he said and kissed her again
“Because I have a special Christmas present for you which had to be delivered as soon as possible” she replied enigmatically
“Ok” he mused looking around for a gift
“Following an in depth scan we made a seismic discovery which was so earth shatteringly important I had to share it with you face to face, and it couldn’t wait another four days” she continued “because the news will be in the public domain by then and you have to be the first person I tell”
“God it sounds really important” he said worriedly “So what did you discover?”
Angie looked at his worried expression and smiled, and after a pause she said
“I’m pregnant”
It was Christmas Eve, and he had been summoned, and as he had no other place to be, he went along.
Bay View House was a large detached Victorian House sitting on a two acre plot so he walked up the gravel drive.
He turned the key he had been given in the lock and stepped into the house of a man he didn't know.
The house was lit with an abundance of Christmas lights that twinkled against the red brickwork.
The door was stained cedar red and sported a fresh wreath bearing a banner that said “Ho, Ho, Ho”
The lights were on inside the house but it appeared there was no one home but it was warm and cozy and as he had walked the icy streets through heavy snow for twenty minutes to get to the house he welcomed it.
But he didn’t know what to do next, the letter he received at the hotel with the door key, simply told him to go to the house and let himself in.
He stood in the entrance liberally decorated with evergreens, and he drank in the nostalgia inducing atmosphere, but after a few minutes he slipped off his coat and walked towards the drawing room, as per the instructions he received, and pushed open the door and stepped inside and when he looked ahead of him he did a double take because standing at the end of the room by the Christmas tree was Angie, his wife.
“Angie?” he asked and she squealed and launched herself at him.
The reason that he was surprised to see her was that she was supposed to be in Alaska and she wasn’t expected home until Christmas Eve, which was four days away.
She was a geologist working for Transglobal Oil and Gas Exploration and she was supposed to conducting a survey and the trip was supposed to be for a month.
His contact with her had been sketchy, they skyped occasionally, more so when she was in Canada, not so much in Alaska due to the remoteness of the region she was working in.
They also exchanged email, which was also problematic, but she would record little video messages on her phone and she would send them to him whenever she could get a signal.
He really looked forward to getting them and the first thing he did when he got up in the morning was to check his phone.
But there had been nothing for two days, and he had been missing her terribly and he had been counting the days until she was home, which should have been in four days.
Which was when they were to spend ten days together, including Christmas at the Abbottsford Regents Hotel, before she would be off again for another month.
But there she was in his arms kissing him and although he didn’t care why, he asked anyway.
“Why are you home early? And whose house is this?”
“The house belongs to my boss, he’s been brilliant and his wife set up the surprise, the enigmatic message and the key” She explained “They’re in New York until Christmas Eve, and we can stay here before we go on to the Regents as planned” she explained
“Yes but why are you back early? Not that I’m complaining” he said and kissed her again
“Because I have a special Christmas present for you which had to be delivered as soon as possible” she replied enigmatically
“Ok” he mused looking around for a gift
“Following an in depth scan we made a seismic discovery which was so earth shatteringly important I had to share it with you face to face, and it couldn’t wait another four days” she continued “because the news will be in the public domain by then and you have to be the first person I tell”
“God it sounds really important” he said worriedly “So what did you discover?”
Angie looked at his worried expression and smiled, and after a pause she said
“I’m pregnant”
Monday, 5 June 2017
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (95) The Ice Breaker
(Part 01)
The fortunes of Shallowfield had always relied largely upon forestry and agriculture for its survival.
In the post war years with rationing and a shortage of work a lot of people moved away, to Abbottsford, Abbeyvale and beyond and it only barely survived, and the community around Teardrop Lake fared even worse.
Only a few of the houses around the Lake were thriving, a lot of the houses had been rented out and those that hadn’t been were in a poor state of repair, some too such an extent they were little more than ruins.
But by the 70s things were beginning to change, thanks mainly to tourism and an increase in leisure time.
More importantly these people had money in their pockets.
This trend was reflected by the fact that the derelict Shallowfield Lodge, which had been inherited by a young couple from Lincolnshire, Rob and Sheryl Brown, was being turned into a hotel.
Its completion formerly marked the rebirth of Teardrop Lake and the revival of the busy village of Shallowfield went hand in hand.
One of those houses that was just hanging on was Chapel House which was the family home of the Walker family and although only the older members of the Walker clan lived in the large rambling pile year round it was were the family gathered in numbers for special occasions and of course Christmas.
Among those drawn back to Teardrop Lake each year were the four Walker girls, sister’s Jane, Kathy, Margaret and the baby of the family, Liz.
And over the years the numbers grew with the addition of boyfriends, husbands and then for the older two girls, children.
And it was on the whole a very loving family and among their number were Paul Biggerstaff and Liz Bradshaw but they felt love of a very different kind.
The problem was they were not a couple, they were married however, just not to each other, and they were in fact brother and sister in law.
Paul had been married to Liz’s sister Margaret for over four years and they had been in love with each other for all of those and their mutual attraction was obvious to them both from the first moment they were introduced, but they knew instinctively that they could never act on it.
And for over four years they kept their feelings in check, at least until Christmas in 1970.
They managed to avoid each other most of the previous year, apart from the summer holiday and Christmas.
Because they kept each other at arm’s length they appeared standoffish to the rest of the family but appearances can be deceptive and beneath the surface they were in turmoil.
Because of what appeared to be an intense dislike of each other the rest of the family took great delight in pushing them together just to watch them squirm.
One afternoon after Liz had helped clear away the dinner dishes she had just exited the kitchen into the hall when she met Paul coming the opposite way, they paused not knowing which way to go when Aunty Vi pointed out quite loudly
“You’re under the mistletoe”
“You have to kiss” Aunt Edith added “its and bad luck not to”
“It’s actually against the law not to” Aunty Vi chipped in
“What law?” Liz asked
“Christmas law obviously” Aunty Vi replied
“Rubbish” Paul said
“Tosh” Liz agreed but by now the rest of the family and gathered and they spontaneously started chanting
“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss”
Delighting in their discomfiture without understanding its nature.
Eventually with no escape Paul and Liz agreed to kiss, just to shut everyone up, and no one understood why they made such a palaver about one simple peck beneath the mistletoe, which was hoped might break the ice between them.
Once the crowd had dispersed, Paul and Liz went their separate ways and independently decided to assuage their embarrassment by over indulging in mulled wine, amongst other things.
(Part 02)
Later that afternoon when those members of the family who had not decided on an afternoon constitutional, were asleep beside the roaring log fire, Liz drained her glass and tottered to the loo and when she emerged she met Paul walking towards her also slightly the worse for drink.
They paused in the middle of the hall and looked at each other
“Look!” she slurred pointing above her head “Mistletoe”
“Yes it is” he agreed
“We’re under the mistletoe” she slurred again “And you know what that means”
“We have to kiss” he responded “it would be bad luck not to”
“It’s actually against the law not to” She added superciliously
“Well if its Christmas law and its Christmas then we must” he concurred
So she stood on tip toe to face him and puckered up and gave him a Christmas kiss and as her lips touched his it was evident that it was so much more than a Christmas kiss or even a drunken expression of their lust.
The kiss lasted for a full ten minutes and might easily have gone on for another ten had they not heard the family return from their walk.
Fortunately they were loud and boisterous which gave the kissing couple time to go their separate ways unnoticed.
When they reflected on it later the nature of the kiss had surprised them both, once they started they didn’t want to stop, but stop they did, it was not just a perfect Christmas kiss, it was perfect on every level, and having broken the ice with a kiss, they wanted to repeat it.
But the next morning in the cold, sober, light of day, they felt guilty, really, really guilty, but not just for weakening, the guilt came because the kiss revealed that they were not just attracted by naked lust, after the kiss they realised it was love, so they avoided each other for the rest of the week.
They had both decided they would not get drunk in case they let their guard down on New Year’s Eve and kissed again.
But about half an hour before midnight they met again in the hall and there was a nervous tension accompanying them because it was the sight of their perfect kiss, a kiss which could easily have led to something else, and would certainly have gone on had they not been interrupted.
“Here we are again at the scene of the crime” he said trying to make light
“Do you mean the kiss?” she asked and he nodded
“I do”
“It was some kiss” she added wistfully
“Yes it was” he agreed and then they both stood looking around awkwardly, lost in remembrance of the kiss seven days before.
“It was only a drunken snog though” she said
“Do you think it was just the mulled wine then?” he asked
“Probably” Liz replied indifferently
“It might be nice to know for sure” Paul said after a moment’s thought
“Like an experiment?”
“Yes, just so” he agreed
“Well I suppose in the interest of science I suppose we could”
She replied and like she had done the week before she stood on tip toe and touched her lips to his and the experimental kiss began.
It was a long kiss, a hot kiss, a passionate kiss and overall a perfect kiss, even more perfect than the previous one, a kiss against which every kiss that followed would be compared to.
After five minutes they heard a door open but this time neither of them were in any mood to stop so they just relocated to the boot room and kissed again.
That New Year’s Eve experiment proved two things conclusively, firstly that the drunken snog was not made perfect by the alcohol but by the participants and secondly that they were hopelessly in love.
The fortunes of Shallowfield had always relied largely upon forestry and agriculture for its survival.
In the post war years with rationing and a shortage of work a lot of people moved away, to Abbottsford, Abbeyvale and beyond and it only barely survived, and the community around Teardrop Lake fared even worse.
Only a few of the houses around the Lake were thriving, a lot of the houses had been rented out and those that hadn’t been were in a poor state of repair, some too such an extent they were little more than ruins.
But by the 70s things were beginning to change, thanks mainly to tourism and an increase in leisure time.
More importantly these people had money in their pockets.
This trend was reflected by the fact that the derelict Shallowfield Lodge, which had been inherited by a young couple from Lincolnshire, Rob and Sheryl Brown, was being turned into a hotel.
Its completion formerly marked the rebirth of Teardrop Lake and the revival of the busy village of Shallowfield went hand in hand.
One of those houses that was just hanging on was Chapel House which was the family home of the Walker family and although only the older members of the Walker clan lived in the large rambling pile year round it was were the family gathered in numbers for special occasions and of course Christmas.
Among those drawn back to Teardrop Lake each year were the four Walker girls, sister’s Jane, Kathy, Margaret and the baby of the family, Liz.
And over the years the numbers grew with the addition of boyfriends, husbands and then for the older two girls, children.
And it was on the whole a very loving family and among their number were Paul Biggerstaff and Liz Bradshaw but they felt love of a very different kind.
The problem was they were not a couple, they were married however, just not to each other, and they were in fact brother and sister in law.
Paul had been married to Liz’s sister Margaret for over four years and they had been in love with each other for all of those and their mutual attraction was obvious to them both from the first moment they were introduced, but they knew instinctively that they could never act on it.
And for over four years they kept their feelings in check, at least until Christmas in 1970.
They managed to avoid each other most of the previous year, apart from the summer holiday and Christmas.
Because they kept each other at arm’s length they appeared standoffish to the rest of the family but appearances can be deceptive and beneath the surface they were in turmoil.
Because of what appeared to be an intense dislike of each other the rest of the family took great delight in pushing them together just to watch them squirm.
One afternoon after Liz had helped clear away the dinner dishes she had just exited the kitchen into the hall when she met Paul coming the opposite way, they paused not knowing which way to go when Aunty Vi pointed out quite loudly
“You’re under the mistletoe”
“You have to kiss” Aunt Edith added “its and bad luck not to”
“It’s actually against the law not to” Aunty Vi chipped in
“What law?” Liz asked
“Christmas law obviously” Aunty Vi replied
“Rubbish” Paul said
“Tosh” Liz agreed but by now the rest of the family and gathered and they spontaneously started chanting
“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss”
Delighting in their discomfiture without understanding its nature.
Eventually with no escape Paul and Liz agreed to kiss, just to shut everyone up, and no one understood why they made such a palaver about one simple peck beneath the mistletoe, which was hoped might break the ice between them.
Once the crowd had dispersed, Paul and Liz went their separate ways and independently decided to assuage their embarrassment by over indulging in mulled wine, amongst other things.
(Part 02)
Later that afternoon when those members of the family who had not decided on an afternoon constitutional, were asleep beside the roaring log fire, Liz drained her glass and tottered to the loo and when she emerged she met Paul walking towards her also slightly the worse for drink.
They paused in the middle of the hall and looked at each other
“Look!” she slurred pointing above her head “Mistletoe”
“Yes it is” he agreed
“We’re under the mistletoe” she slurred again “And you know what that means”
“We have to kiss” he responded “it would be bad luck not to”
“It’s actually against the law not to” She added superciliously
“Well if its Christmas law and its Christmas then we must” he concurred
So she stood on tip toe to face him and puckered up and gave him a Christmas kiss and as her lips touched his it was evident that it was so much more than a Christmas kiss or even a drunken expression of their lust.
The kiss lasted for a full ten minutes and might easily have gone on for another ten had they not heard the family return from their walk.
Fortunately they were loud and boisterous which gave the kissing couple time to go their separate ways unnoticed.
When they reflected on it later the nature of the kiss had surprised them both, once they started they didn’t want to stop, but stop they did, it was not just a perfect Christmas kiss, it was perfect on every level, and having broken the ice with a kiss, they wanted to repeat it.
But the next morning in the cold, sober, light of day, they felt guilty, really, really guilty, but not just for weakening, the guilt came because the kiss revealed that they were not just attracted by naked lust, after the kiss they realised it was love, so they avoided each other for the rest of the week.
They had both decided they would not get drunk in case they let their guard down on New Year’s Eve and kissed again.
But about half an hour before midnight they met again in the hall and there was a nervous tension accompanying them because it was the sight of their perfect kiss, a kiss which could easily have led to something else, and would certainly have gone on had they not been interrupted.
“Here we are again at the scene of the crime” he said trying to make light
“Do you mean the kiss?” she asked and he nodded
“I do”
“It was some kiss” she added wistfully
“Yes it was” he agreed and then they both stood looking around awkwardly, lost in remembrance of the kiss seven days before.
“It was only a drunken snog though” she said
“Do you think it was just the mulled wine then?” he asked
“Probably” Liz replied indifferently
“It might be nice to know for sure” Paul said after a moment’s thought
“Like an experiment?”
“Yes, just so” he agreed
“Well I suppose in the interest of science I suppose we could”
She replied and like she had done the week before she stood on tip toe and touched her lips to his and the experimental kiss began.
It was a long kiss, a hot kiss, a passionate kiss and overall a perfect kiss, even more perfect than the previous one, a kiss against which every kiss that followed would be compared to.
After five minutes they heard a door open but this time neither of them were in any mood to stop so they just relocated to the boot room and kissed again.
That New Year’s Eve experiment proved two things conclusively, firstly that the drunken snog was not made perfect by the alcohol but by the participants and secondly that they were hopelessly in love.
Sunday, 4 June 2017
Downshire Diary – (94) Christmas in 1962
(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.
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.
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.
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