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Previously…

Sorry,’ I said, ‘did I startle you?’

‘Yes, I was miles away there. How can I help you, Samantha, isn’t it?’

I looked at him. ‘Do I know you?’

‘Probably not, but everyone knows you.’

‘Oh right, okay, erm, I want some posters made up about–’

‘–opening your gallery?’

‘That’s right, I think I need to advertise.’

‘Why?’

‘Well to get people to know about the gallery.’

He looked at me and shook his head.

‘No point.’

‘Sorry?’

‘As I said, no point. Everyone already knows about the gallery and when you are opening.’

‘But I’ve only just spoken to Arthur–’

‘Yes, but he told Mavis Periwinkle and she told Mrs Appleyard and that’s it; the grapevine goes into overdrive and before you know it, the whole village knows.’

‘I’m surprised that no one knows my cup size–’

‘B,’ he replied promptly.

My mouth opened and closed like a halibut.

‘How, did you–’

‘Your face, what a picture–actually, I guessed,’ he laughed.

‘I suppose I’ll get used to this Devon humour, by the time I’m eighty.’

‘You should hear some Cornish humour, a bit coarse to say the least, and this coming from a Cornishman.’

‘So you emigrated then–from Cornwall?’

‘Yes, it was forty-eight years ago. I was abducted at the border in the dead of night and smuggled across.’

‘Is that more Devon humour?’

‘Yes, not very subtle is it?’

‘As subtle as a hammer.’

‘No, I’ve lived here ever since my mum and dad moved from Cornwall after they got hitched. They came from Bodmin, but don’t want to advertise the fact.’

‘What’s wrong with Bodmin?’

‘Don’t ask. Anyway back to the subject, I can run up a few posters for you. If you want to sketch something out, I’ll do a proof for you. They might bring some trade for you from the grockles.’

‘Thanks, I’ll do that. Oh, can I have your name?’

‘Derek Potts.’

‘Ah, yes. It would be.’

And now the story continues…

After leaving the printers, I called to see Katie, my solicitor in case you'd forgotten. She was with a victim–I mean client–so I sat in the waiting room and read a copy of Cosmopolitan; it was only six years old.

After about ten minutes she was free and we settled to coffee and a Hobnob as we sat on a sofa.

‘Any more news?’ I asked.

‘Not much, the business side of things is quite messy, especially the loan companies. But we are getting there. One of the companies doesn’t seem to be able to cope very well without your father-in-law–let me see…’ she rummaged through some papers, ‘–oh yes, New Dawn Enterprises–’

‘That’s who I used to work for.’

‘Mmm, what do they do?’

‘Import and export, goods from the far east, things like that.’

‘How many employees?’

‘About a hundred, I think.’

‘And what did you do there?’

‘Tried to set up deals for the imported goods to be sold over here.’

‘Were you any good?’

‘Not really, it’s a tough nut to crack, but I was no worse than any of the others on the team. So they’re having problems?’

‘Yes, it appears that Nigel was very hands on and the managers had to do what he said. Now he’s gone, they’re somewhat rudderless.’

‘So what will happen to the company?’

‘Not sure, gradually go down the tubes if no one takes responsibility, I suppose.’

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Well, it’s your company now.’

‘It’s not. Doesn’t everything have to go through probate or something?’

‘Yes, but the executors have a duty to keep things moving and appoint management in the interest of the company.’

‘Who are the executors?’

‘Nigel’s accountant, Olivia was and erm, you.’

‘Me? Why me, Nigel must have been stark staring mad!’

‘Probably, but what with everything going on, he probably didn’t have a chance to cut you out. I think that Olivia probably said that she wanted you and he went along with her wishes. She might have thought that it would be another knot to tie you in with the family, if you had that responsibility.’

‘Seeing that he didn’t want me to go back to work there after he found out about the true me, I can’t understand why he made me an executor.’

Katie shrugged. ‘We’ll probably never know. Anyway, I took the liberty of speaking to his accountant and he felt that as you knew the company and officially still worked there, you would be ideal to take over.’

‘But I don’t want to work in a bloody office!’

‘With networking phones, computers and other stuff, you probably don’t need to go to London very often and once you’ve sorted things out, you could appoint a competent manager to look after the affairs if the one there is no good, while you get on with other matters.’

‘But why should I? I don’t want Nigel’s money and I do not want to get involved with his businesses.’

Katie looked at me sadly. ‘We had this conversation before about why you should. Anyway, you said there are a hundred people working there; do you want it on your conscience if they lose their jobs?’

‘That’s emotional blackmail!’

‘Yup.’

‘Don’t you have any scruples?’

‘Nope.’

We both laughed at that.

‘All right, I’ll go.’

‘When?’

‘Oh, sometime next week–’

‘It’s urgent.’

I looked up at her. ‘How urgent?’

‘Extremely.’

I took the train up to London the following morning. I had a case with me and I would stay at an hotel, I didn’t want to go back to the old house, even if it was mine–too many bad memories.

I stayed at The Savoy–well if you’ve got money, you might as well use it! And I had got fed up worrying about it.

As I lay back in a relaxing bubble bath in my luxurious suite of rooms, I contemplated things–but not my navel.

I had left Abby tearfully that morning; any day without her was going to be horrible. I had also given Heather a long cuddle before I left. I tried to explain that I would only be a few days, but I don’t think that she really took it in.

I asked Katie not to tell the company that I was coming to the office. I wanted to see how things were. The manager and my immediate ex-boss, was Roger Hardcastle, a blustering forty-five year old with attitude. None of the team really liked him and I knew that he always sang from the same song sheet as Nigel. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him the following morning.

I had no idea what I was going to do or say and to be honest I would rather be at home in the arms of my Abby, than this. But I had to go there, if only because it was my responsibility. I had faxed letters in my briefcase, confirming that I had full control over the company so at least I would be heard.

After my bubble bath, I dried myself, put on a pale blue silk long sleeved blouse and cotton skirt, light makeup and then a quick flick with the hair brush. After that I put on some small gold loop earrings, a fine gold chain around my neck and two bangles on one wrist and my gold watch on the other.

I slipped on some sling backs and I was ready for the world. Picking up a dark blue jacket, my bag and the key card, I let myself out of the room and went shopping.

Although now late September, the weather was still warm and I was thankful for that. I asked the uniformed doorman to hail me a taxi, which he did by whistling loudly through his teeth and gesturing to a black cab waiting in a short queue. The taxi immediately pulled forward, doing a tight U-turn and then stopped in front of the hotel entrance.

I gave the doorman a tip and my thanks then approached the taxi.

‘Where to, love?’

‘Harrods, please.’

The doorman, dutifully opened the door for me and I was soon drinking in the sights of London from the back of the cab. I always liked the centre of London, with its diversity and vibrancy. The roads were packed with shoppers and holidaymakers. We sped down the Mall towards Buckingham Palace, and I noted that the Royal Standard was flying on the flag-pole, indicating that Her Majesty–Dotty’s friend–was at home. Cafés and street markets were full to overflowing and the shop fronts were bright and imaginative.

Eventually we arrived outside Harrods. I had always wanted to shop there and thought that this would be an ideal time to look around.

Another uniformed doorman-type person assisted me out of the taxi and although I blanched a bit at the cost of the fare–thirty pounds–I gave him forty and told him to keep the change. I was soon inside and gazing around that wonderful shop. I had heard of near riots at sale time, but luckily this wasn’t one of those occasions. First of all I went into the Food Hall and looked at the various strange and wonderful goodies on offer. Beluga caviar, foie gras, varieties of smoked and unsmoked hams, heavenly–if whiffy–cheeses from around the world, chocolates to die for–it was an assault to my senses, but what an assault!

I left with a small box of Belgian chocolates–something yummy–and naughty–to eat in bed tonight!

I found my way to the ladies fashion department–one of the reasons I wanted to come here in the first place. Once again I felt a bit faint at the prices, but tomorrow, I wanted to make a statement when I went to see New Dawn Enterprises.

The sales assistant, who looked a lot more glamorous than me, but had a nice smile and a helpful attitude, helped me all she could when I explained that I was going to a business meeting and that I wanted to make an impression.

With her help and suggestions, I tried on several tops and skirts and then a few dresses, all no go, unfortunately; eventually Emily–nice name that–stood there for a moment and then her face lit up.

‘Wait a moment madam; I think I have the very thing but it is rather expensive.’

She brought in a black dress and I tried it on. I wasn’t sure about black, but as soon as I saw my reflection in the mirror, I knew that this was the one. It was love!

It was by Tibi, and was a fine gauge sweater-type dress with ruffle detail, a scoop back and three-quarter length sleeves. It hugged my body and showed that my figure wasn’t bad at all. It was made from pure Marino wool and was lined with silk. It felt divine and I just had to have it. I also bought some black court shoes, several sets of tights, a couple of bras and panties and other odds and ends. Emily then looked at me and frowned.

‘What?’ I said, concerned that my choice may not have been okay after all.

‘Mmm. Can you just give me a moment?’

‘Of course.’

She left the changing room, leaving me to admire myself. I never thought I would get narcissistic about the way I looked, but I was getting my confidence back after years of being put down. Abby says it was like I was a flower coming out of bud into full bloom, but she said it after three G&Ts, so I’m not entirely sure whether she got that one right!

Emily returned carrying something grey.

‘Let’s try this,’ she said as she draped what looked like some sort of incredibly soft scarf over my shoulders.

‘It’s a silk and cashmere pashmina, you like?’

I gazed at the combination of the dress and pashmina and thought they went together absolutely perfectly.

‘Yes, Emily, I like; they go together so well! Thanks, I’ll have that too!’

Back at The Savoy, I ate my meal with real enjoyment. I used room service, as I didn’t fancy dining in public on my own. The lamb cutlet melted in my mouth and the strawberry fool, well, to say it was yummy would be an understatement.

Then my thoughts returned to Penmarris and my loved ones. I had missed Abby and Heather so much and I had only seen them this morning! I did a lot of sighing and looking at the photos of them on my ’phone and then decided that I was tired and got myself ready for bed.

I wore one of Abby’s long cream satin nightgowns; it reminded me of her and gave a little bit of comfort. I settled down and picked up my ’phone. I was just about to ring Abby, when it chirped at me.

‘Hi, honey, how’s everything?’

‘Hello, Abby love, I was just thinking about you.’

‘Are you in bed?’

‘Mmm, you?’

‘Yes, just got in. Biscuit’s making a pest of himself and won’t settle on the bed.’

‘I can hear him purring.’

‘Mmm, ’tis loud. I prefer to have you purring beside me.’

‘I know, I’ll be home some time tomorrow night.’

‘Are you worried?’

‘About tomorrow? A bit, but it’s got to be done, I suppose.’

‘And they don’t know that you are coming?’

‘No, as I said before, I want to see how things are first. They don’t even know who I am really. The last time I was there I was wearing a boring suit and was in bloke mode. I don’t think I’ll be recognised.’

‘It should be fun.’

‘If you say so. Now enough of that, how’s our baby–?’

The next morning I awoke, had some breakfast–room service again–in my robe and then got myself ready for the day. I had rung down to reception for a taxi to pick me up in ninety minutes, so I barely had enough time to get ready.

I made it with seven minutes to spare. The full length mirror showed a young–ish woman, in a very stylish black dress, with a pashmina draped round her shoulders and flipped over her back. Black sheer tights and court shoes with two inch heels completed the ensemble. Her blond hair was long and slightly curled under. Her makeup was minimal but effective, with touch of blusher to compliment the pink shiny lips. Her eyes were lined in fine black and shadowed in three tones of blue and her eyebrows had been plucked and pencilled into a perfect curve. The lashes were long and thick and emphasised the deep blue eyes.

I sighed, thinking that this was not the Tom who last went to work just a few short months ago and wondered what sort of reception I would receive!

The offices of New Dawn Enterprises were just off the Tottenham Court Road. Forty people worked there including the management and sales teams. The warehouse was located in Dover, near the ferry terminal, an ideal place to receive and send stock out and that was where the majority of the workforce were employed.

The offices were on the top floor of a prestigious building that housed other companies too. I stepped across the marble floor of the atrium that led to the bank of lifts. It was ten in the morning and knew that everyone should be at work by now. As the lift took me swiftly and efficiently to the top floor, my heart was racing. I knew that it wasn’t my thyroid playing up, as that was being controlled by the pills that I took religiously every morning. The shakes in my hands also had nothing to do with my condition. It was nerves–funk, call it what you like.

The lift had mirrors on three sides and I looked at my reflection. I looked nice, but terrified. I adjusted the pashmina, moved a few stray hairs back in place and sighed; I had to get my act together and soon!

The lift opened and in front was a large frosted glass door. Over the door, in gold lettering was emblazoned New Dawn Enterprises.

I took a deep breath and stepped towards the door. It slid open automatically as I approached and entered, crossing to the large reception desk where Marion, the receptionist, was sitting typing something on a keyboard and staring at the screen. She didn’t stop what she was doing for a few moments so I quietly coughed.

‘One moment please,’ she said without looking up at me.

She carried on as if I wasn’t there and I was getting a bit antsy. I had vivid recollections of a certain doctors receptionist who did a similar thing to me and I didn’t like it one bit.

‘Excuse me.’

‘Sorry, one moment.’

She carried on for considerably more than one moment and then the ’phone buzzed.

‘Hello,’ she said into her neat little headset, ‘New Dawn Enterprises, can I help you?’

‘Mr Davies is on a call at the moment, can you wait…okay, I’ll tell him you rang, Mr Ford.’

She flipped a switch and then looked at me. A puzzled look flittered across her face and then she shook her head.

‘Can I help you?’

‘I’d like to speak to Roger Hardcastle, please.’

‘Have you an appointment?’

‘No.’

‘He doesn’t normally see people without an appointment, are you a rep?’

‘No.’

‘I’m sorry; Mr Hardcastle is very busy at the moment and––’

‘Could you tell him that one of the late Mr Manning’s executors is here to see him?’

‘May I have your name?’

‘Samantha Smart.’

‘Oh, are you related to Mr Manning’s daughter.’

‘Sort of.’

‘Oh, I see. Would you care to take a seat?’

Carefully, I sat down on the leather chair and awaited developments. I couldn’t hear what Marion was saying but it appears that she was having a hard time of it. Eventually she put the phone down and looked over to me.

‘Erm, Mr Hardcastle’s in a meeting and cannot be disturbed, could you call back this afternoon?’

I may or may not have mentioned it before, but I am placid by nature but have a bit of a short fuse when I feel that I am being given the run around. The main reason why I hadn’t advertised the fact that I was coming today was because I wanted to see the company in action normally, not after being given due notice of a visit.

I stood up, smoothed my skirt and walked over to her.

‘No that is not at all convenient. I shall go and find him myself–it’s all right, I know the way.’

I could hear her complaining as I pushed my way through the swing doors and down the short corridor leading to the main office. Pushing another door open, I tried to ignore all the people at the desks staring at me. There didn’t seem to be much work going on, people were sitting and chatting but nobody seemed to be doing any actual work. Ignoring the eyes on me, I went to the end office, knocked and walked in.

Hardcastle was there, newspaper in hand just about to take a bite out of a jammy doughnut.

He looked up.

‘What the hell!’ he blustered.

‘Good morning, Mr Hardcastle,’ I said, determined to be businesslike, but smiling sweetly as I sat opposite him, removed a speck of dust from my dress and awaited developments.

He put the doughnut down and stared at me intently.

‘Do I know you and what the hell are you doing bursting into my fucking office?’

‘Tsk-tsk, you shouldn’t swear in front of a lady,’ I admonished.

‘I’ll do what I fucking like in my own bloody office. Now, who the hell are you?’

I pulled out a letter from my bag and handed it to him.

‘Read this please.’

‘What the fu––’ He stopped mid-word as he slit open the envelope and read the contents.

I knew the contents as I had dictated it myself with Katie’s assistance just the day before. It said:

To whom it may concern,

This is to notify you that Miss Samantha Smart is an executor under the terms and conditions of the will of the late Nigel Manning………… She is also the sole beneficiary of the late Olivia Smart and as such has full powers to make any executive decisions appertaining to the companies owned and managed by Nigel Manning

It was signed by myself and had an attached agreement of the other executor, Nigel’s accountant.

He put the sheet down and looked at me.

‘What does this mean?’

‘It means that I must find out why this company is going down the pan–why the people out there appear to be swanning about, doing sweet Fanny Adams. To me it is indicative that you do not appear to have a hand on the tiller, and that means that you do not have the confidence of the senior management and owner–effectively me–and as a result your employment with this company is severely compromised–’

‘You can’t fucking do this!’ he bellowed, standing up and towering over me.

I ought to have been scared, but I had the green mist and I couldn’t care less about him.

‘Sit down please, Mr Hardcastle.’

I raised my eyebrows as he actually did my bidding. He seemed to be in severe shock. Someone came in and began to say something.

I just stood up and told the woman–Georgina Cannon-Smythe–Roger’s secretary, that Mr Hardcastle was in conference and must not be disturbed and bundled her out of the office, but I gave her a quick wink as she left. I liked Georgina, she was a good person. I shut the door on her puzzled face and turned the key.

‘Who the hell––’

‘–Please be quiet, Mr Hardcastle. Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You have two options, I sack you now and you leave. You will get normal severance pay and you can try to sue the company. You may win but you and I both know that you would then be virtually unemployable. Option two, you resign now–this minute–and I will ensure that you are paid for six months and that your pension will be fully paid up and in addition you will get a reference. You have let the company slide, Roger, you are the manager and managers manage and do not let their company get into difficulties like this. So what is your choice?’

‘I’ll fucking sue––’

‘–So you want to be sacked? Okay, Mr Hardcastle, you have five min––’

‘–Wait.’ He seemed to deflate before my eyes. ‘I—I’ll resign.’

‘You know it makes sense.’

Thirty minutes later, Roger Hardcastle left the building with a cardboard box–the contents of which were carefully checked by me–never to return. As I sat at his desk, I shook my head; never for one moment did he realise that I used to be Tom Smart.

I took me a moment or two to calm down. I was shaking like a leaf, not used to being a hard headed business woman. Eventually my heart stopped thumping and my hands stopped shaking.

Picking up the phone, I dialled an extension.

‘Hello, Georgina, can you come into Mr Hardcastle’s office?’

A few seconds later, there was a knock at the door and Georgina came in. She was obviously puzzled at what was going on.

‘Hello Georgina, please sit down. First of all, Mr Hardcastle has decided to resign due to the fact that he wants to spend more time with his family–erm, anyway, my name is Samantha Smart; would you read this, please?’

I passed over the letter that Hardcastle had already read.

Her eyes went wide and she looked up at me after reading it.

‘But, I—l know you, you’re Tom––’

‘–was Tom; now I’m Samantha. Do you have a problem with that?’

‘No, of course not, except to say that you look much more comfortable as Samantha than you ever did as Tom. God, you look absolutely gorgeous in that dress, if I hadn’t have known–I don't suppose Roger twigged, did he?’

‘Nah.’

We both smiled and said together, ‘Men!’ and high-fived.

‘I can’t get over how lovely you are. There always was something about you though–I suppose your femininity was showing through, even then.’

‘Thanks for the compliment–I think.’

We both laughed and then got down to details. I knew that Georgina had been with the company for seven years and she also knew all about how things ran. She had always been the one who people talked to if there was a problem and she could normally sort most things out without referring up to Roger or, God forbid, Nigel.

‘So, Georgina, who do you think should run this place?’

She gazed at me and sort of hesitated.

‘Tell me. This is between ourselves.’

‘Well, as you know we have two line managers, Messrs Cockburn and Dowsett–Henry and Mark.’

‘Yes.’

She looked a bit uncomfortable and I had to prompt her to continue.

‘Henry’s okay on the admin side and Mark’s great on sales. The problem is that they haven’t been given enough responsibility to make their own decisions and go with them.’

‘Overall, would you say either of them would be a good choice to take over here?’

She thought for a moment and then shook her head. ‘No, I think you should bring in somebody from outside.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, I think that if you promote one or the other to be the boss, the one that didn’t make it would probably leave,’

I looked at her for a moment and then said, ‘So you don’t think that anyone here would make a good manager?’

‘No, I have to be honest. Those are the only two who had any chance,’

‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’ she asked with a puzzled look on her face.

‘How do you see your position here?’

‘I hope to carry on. Despite everything, I love working here. Oh the bosses were right little shits sometimes, but I get on with most people here.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Why, does that mean I won’t be getting the old heave ho?’

‘Far from it, I want you to take over.’

‘That’s good, because I have a huge mortgage and…WHAT–?’

I smiled at her confusion. ‘I want you to be manager here.’

‘But I haven’t got the experience and I’m not good enough––’

‘–Stop! You are good enough. Remember, I’ve worked here. I know full well that it’s your glue that sticks this company together. Everyone likes and respects you, and you know this business inside out. From where I’m sitting, you are perfect. Do you accept?’

‘I—I don’t know what to say, and I don’t know what the others would say. Would they take orders from me?’

‘If they don’t, you fire them.’

‘Me,’ she squeaked.

‘Yes, YOU. You will be on the same salary and benefits as Roger. We will give it three months, if it doesn’t work out, we’ll talk. Do you accept?’

She looked at me and then slowly she smiled and nodded.

‘Good. What we’ll do is this. I won’t be here very much, because I live and work in Devon. I never wanted to do this sort of thing; I’m an artist by trade and nature. I will be networked into the business and I’ll always be at the end of the phone if I’m needed. I’ll come up as and when I’m needed, but I won’t breath down your neck. After three months, I will give you twenty percent of the business. I will also spread another twenty percent among the workforce; if everyone who works here has a vested interest in the company, it will give them the will and incentive to work all the harder. We’ll work out the details later. Any other questions?’

‘Tons, but I’ll tell you about them when we have time.’

‘Right, will you ask Henry and Mark to come in?’

‘Do you want to speak to them alone?’

‘No, you’re the boss here, you’re in on all the meetings and decision making.’

She smiled again and then left the room. I wondered if I had done the right thing but only time would tell. Shortly afterwards, Henry and Mark entered; both looked confused as they saw me seated behind the desk.

‘Please sit down, gentlemen.’

They sat and appeared even more confused as Georgina pulled up a chair and sat next to me.

‘Right, gentlemen. First of all, Mr Hardcastle has left the company by mutual consent. Do either of you know who I am?’

Henry and Mark, looked at each other blankly and then at me.

‘Seemingly not. I’d better tell you, then. I am, or rather was, Tom Smart, I am now Samantha Smart. I am transgendered and have been for many years, but I had to hide it when I came to work here. I have now inherited this company and others through my marriage to Olivia–Nigel Manning’s daughter. If you have any objections to my being the owner, you may leave the company on a month’s notice. Have either of you any objections?’

Both shook their heads slowly, as if they were puppets worked by the same piece of string.

‘That’s good as I think that you are both very valuable to the company. I want you keep your same jobs. I have appointed Ms Cannon-Smythe as General Manager; we all know how experienced and knowledgeable she is and I expect your full cooperation in making as smooth a transition as possible into the new management structure. If you have any objections to her being the manager, you may leave the company. I know it means her stepping over your head, but that is just the way it is. Any objections?’

Once again that same shaking of the heads in perfect puppet-like unison.

‘That’s good. Ms Cannon-Smythe will explain how things are to be run at a meeting of the entire office staff tomorrow morning. I shan’t be here because I have every confidence in her, and I want you to back her one hundred percent. I shall stay in the background, but be available if and when required. Understood?’

More nods.

‘Any questions?’

Henry Cockburn coughed and then looked at Mark, who shook his head. I think he was still in shock, poor love!

‘Just one thing, will we be able to run our own departments as before?’

I looked at Georgina and raised my eyebrows.

‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘in fact, I will be giving both of you more authority, including hiring and firing and I will positively encourage initiatives from each of you.’

After a few further questions, Henry and Mark left and seemed quite cheerful. I hoped that would continue, but only time will tell. If they didn’t shape up, they would be shipped out!

I discussed things with Georgina for quite a while concerning the nuts and bolts of the arrangement. We had lunch together and I was pleased to see that she assumed a natural authority and I felt in my bones that I had made the right decision about her.

As I watched the fields and towns flash by on my way home in the train to my beloved Penmarris, I smiled at what I had achieved today. It had been very hard for me to put on a mask of toughness and I knew that maybe I could have done a bit better, but I had a feeling that I had done enough at least to give the company a chance of success. I had asked Georgina down to stay the following weekend because I wanted to get to know her better.

My thoughts turned back to my home–Penmarris and all the loved ones that I had here. I literally ached to see Abby and Heather again and I had only been away a short while. I longed to see my friends again and the cottages and cats and the gallery and pottery and all the nutty people who lived in the cove.

If it was light enough when I get home, I would go for a walk, hopefully with Abby, along the coast path and watch the sunset go down over the cove, then we would go and see Heather for a while. Then I saw no reason why we couldn’t have fish and chips down by the harbour before leisurely making our way home and then–well, I’m sure you can guess what I would want to happen then.

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To Be Continued…

Please leave comments…thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing, help with the plot-lines and pulling the story into shape.