I was waiting at Bristol Parkway at ten o’clock. I’d already been home and tidied up a little, checked my mail and so on. It was a fine morning and I leant against the car, I’d been sitting long enough. The sun was shining and for few minutes I stood there enjoying it’s warmth on my face, arms and legs. For a change I was wearing a skirt, the red one that Stella had given me that very first night I met Simon. I was also wearing the red top and the boots. My own black jacket was on the back seat of the car, but there was enough warmth in the sun for me not to need it.

I heard the train come and go, and as far as I could tell, Simon wasn’t on it. I therefore waited for the inevitable phone call to say why. We’d been so starved of sunshine this summer that I couldn’t pull myself from its warming rays, almost as if my body was suggesting my vitamin D levels needed boosting. For those not in the know, it’s synthesised in the skin by the action of sunlight. We all need about fifteen minutes a day to keep us healthy, according to some experts. I’d only had about ten minutes when something cold was touched against my neck.

I opened my eyes and jumped, of course I couldn’t see very much against the sun, and I nearly went arse over tip, as my dad used to say, as I sprawled against the car.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist it.” Simon’s voice was instantly recognisable, “I bring a peace offering.”

As my vision returned, without the yellow blob of the sun’s image superimposed over things, I began to see him as well, I could see someone else standing beside him. “Simon, that wasn’t funny, I could have had a heart attack or fallen over.”

“Sorry, Babes, you looked so vulnerable and relaxed.”

“Where have you been, the train left ten minutes ago.”

“That’s my fault,” said the stranger.

I looked him over, he was about six feet tall and quite slim–compared to Simon, he was–with mid brown hair greying at the temples. “And you are?” I asked with some sullenness.

“Forgive me, I’m Jason Wilson,” he proffered his hand.

“Cathy Watts,” I said shaking his hand.

“I know all about you,” he said beaming, his whole face, and quite a handsome one, lighting up with it.

“How is that?” I asked, feeling a little suspicious.

“Simon and I have known each other in the City for a few years, although our meeting today was purely fortuitous, I’m on my way to see my mother, who’s not been too well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that…”

“So, Babes, can we give Jason a lift?” Simon said looking very little boyish. It left me in a position of being unable to refuse without seeming very churlish. “Oh, I nearly forgot, these are for you,” he handed me a large bunch of flowers.

“Thank you,” I pecked him on the cheek, “Of course we can give Jason a lift.” We then stuffed various bags in the back of the Mondeo and set off to Jason’s mother’s house. It turned out to be a rather well appointed bungalow, with very well kept garden near Clifton.

Jason had chatted a little as we drove, he was a revenue lawyer and did rather well for himself, however, he lived fairly frugally with his girlfriend, another lawyer, in Chelsea, near Sloane Square. He planned on retiring at fifty and moving to his villa in the South of France.

I admitted with the recent summer in mind, it was a lovely thought. Simon of course interrupted, “Don’t forget we have one on Menorca.”

“Simon, this place is mentioned every now and again, but you rarely tell me much about it and have never invited me there. I sometimes wonder if it’s just an urban myth.”

“I tell you what, once the banking crisis is over, I shall take you there.”

“What, in the winter?”

“Erm, the spring would be better,” he suggested.

“Yeah, when I’m up to my neck in dormice or harvest mice, possibly making the second film.”

“Films? Simon, you told me your beautiful fiancée was a university lecturer.”

“She is, except the men from the ministry have asked her to make some films on endangered animals, or something–isn’t that right, Babes?”

“Yeah, more or less, they’re thinking of doing one on bankers, next year.” I said quite drily.

Jason thought it was funny, “Is that before estate agents, or property developers?”

“Part of me hopes they’ll be extinct by then.” I didn’t like the archetypal money grabbing sort.

“I’m sure it’s a feeling shared by many. Well here we are, thank you, kind and beautiful lady, for the lift. Good to meet you at long last, I’ll catch up with you somewhen Si.” He took the case from me, after I removed it from the back of the car. He took my hand and kissed it, and I blushed. Then he walked up the front path and waved just before he entered the house.

“How do you know him then?” I asked.

“We use him occasionally in disputes with the Chancellor, costs an arm and a leg.”

“He seems rather nice,” I said, thinking of him, “He’s very suave.”

“Yeah, a sort of urbane myth,” Simon said, his eyes sparkling at his own pun.

“No, that would be me, he’s very definitely a myth-ter.”

“Oh very good,Babes, gi’s a kiss then.” I stopped the car at the end of the road and we kissed, just a quickie otherwise it might upset the horses.

“So where shall we go now ?” I asked.

“How about back to bed?” Simon winked at me. It was a lovely idea and I nearly succumbed, except, I had shopping I needed to do. So that’s what we did, I bought some new jeans and a sweater, plus a new pair of trainers. Simon bought himself a pair, as well.

“You’re dressed a bit girly to be buying trainers, aren’t you?”

“So? I can wear a skirt if I want to, can’t I?”

“Course you can, isn’t that the one you wore…?”

“Good Lord, you noticed.” I was impressed.

“Yeah, I always notice what you wear, I don’t always say anything though. I prefer you like that to jeans and tee shirts.”

“Yeah, but jeans and tees are easier for playing with dormice…” as soon as I said it, I knew I’d made a mistake.

“I prefer that blouse and skirt in the film,” Simon chuckled.

“Pig!”

“No, it was definitely a dormouse–ouch–don’t hit so hard.” I made him pay for lunch–no not for that remark–I was going to anyway, it was his turn. We went to the pub at Aust village, where we’d embarrassed ourselves during a Sunday lunch. The landlord had obviously forgotten us, or me, he did eye Simon suspiciously. After lunch, I showed him Des’ cottage, or Des’ Res as Simon called it.

“And he’s left this to you, all of it?”

“Yes.”

“Does Stella know?”

“No, and you’re not to tell her.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I don’t know. I might just keep it for the moment and see what happens to the property market.”

“He left her nothing?”

“I’ve sorted some personal stuff for her. I also want to make sure that their sprog gets something, but haven’t decided what yet.”

“Yes, that would be a good idea.”

“The editing stuff, I’ll keep for the moment, not that I’m going to use it, but it enables me to use it instead of having to go to someone else’s laboratory.”

“You’ve lost me, Babes.”

“If I find an editor, they can do the work here if a lab isn’t available, remember we have a bit of a deadline.”

“Oh, I see. Let’s go home, I feel a bit odd being here without its previous owner being here.”

“Oh he’s here alright, can’t you feel him?” I said.

“Ooh, that’s too spooky for me, I’m off.” Simon made a rapid tactical withdrawal out of the house. I followed him, after locking everything up. I didn’t feel at all uncomfortable, if Des was still hanging around the house, I know he’d have been pleased to see me there, especially as I was trying to complete the film. In fact I wished him a good evening as I left.