After my rather filling breakfast, I returned to my room, did a few running repairs to my face, packed and twenty minutes later, I was on my way. I stopped off at the petrol station first to fill up and buy a bag of Murray Mints to suck on the journey and then I was off again and on the road to Devon. Next stop, sun, sea and dressed crab.

And now the story continues…

I stopped only once more at a service area for a quick cappuccino and loo break, as I was eager to get to my destination.

As I drove towards the West Country, gradually I felt a weight lifting from my shoulders. I was listening to Dido on my CD and singing along. By nature, I am a happy, positive person and it was only the events of the last few days that made me realise that I had not been very happy for a while now. All that was going to change; if Penmarris Cove didn’t work out, then I would stick my finger on the map again and find somewhere that would.

‘The world is my oyster.’ I thought. ‘Who said that?’

I shrugged my shoulders and drove on. Eventually, the M5 turned into the A38 and the roads changed from major to minor ones. I had to consult my maps on a number of occasions and wished that I had a satnav, perhaps I would buy one now that I was going to strange new places.

A few of the roads were rather narrow and bendy, often there were walls or hedges lining them so one couldn’t see past the bends. I nearly had a heart attack twice. First when I nearly went into the back of a tractor that was doing about one mile an hour behind some sheep and the other time, when a tour bus came around the corner and we came within a gnat’s whisker from having a head on collision.

Anyway, shortly after that I was out into more or less open countryside that looked like moorland , so I was able to pull myself together a bit.

I was about five miles from Penmarris Cove, as the crow flies, when my car started to feel a bit strange and the steering became heavy. I pulled into the side of the road and got out. Going around to the front, I found that the offside tyre had started to go flat.

‘O hell!’ I muttered under my breath, thinking it must be a slow puncture.

Here I was, stuck on what was now a lonely road, with a flat tyre. I could ring the AA, I supposed. Taking my mobile out of my bag, I switched it on only to be told that there was no service. Stamping my foot in a ladylike manner and muttering unladylike oaths, I pondered over what I should do.

Okay, probably you think I should roll up my sleeves, get the spare out of the boot, spit on my hands and change the wheel.

There is something that I’m ashamed of. I don’t know how to change a wheel or do anything remotely mechanical with a car. People might scoff, but I have never been remotely interested in cars that way. Cars are for getting into at one place and getting out of at another. I could put petrol in it and once, Olivia took an afternoon off to show me how to do the oil and water thingy, but that was it–the end of my expertise. Anyway, I had a BMW and things like that were not supposed to happen to them, you know, Vorsprung durch Technik and all that stuff.

I sat in the car, wondering what to do next. Mind you this was a delightful spot, the moorland sloped away gently to the distance, birds were twittering the way they do; there was a slight breeze that helped cool the air slightly and it all looked rather cheerful.

After a few minutes, I decided that I ought to try to do something, so I looked at my map and remembered a signpost I had passed about half a mile back that said Penmarris, so I was on the right road. It was a lovely day, so how long would it take me to walk there and get help from a garage or something?

I grabbed my shoulder bag, put on some sunglasses, locked the car and set off down the road. The going was good and the road reasonably flat; the breeze wasn’t strong and I felt good wearing my thin sundress. After about twenty minutes, my left heel broke; although low heeled, as I walked, I still had a distinct tendency to list to port.

Several cars passed but they were going rather fast and didn’t stop. I thought about showing some leg and tossing my hair back, but for some reason I didn’t think that, in the circumstances, it would be wise–or appropriate.

To counteract my “dot and carry” gait, I broke the heel off my other shoe and continued on my way. The sandals weren’t really designed for hiking, especially in their distressed state and I began to wonder about the advisability of wearing them in the first place.

Then–to add to my joy–it started to cloud over and the wind freshened. I had just about reached the edge of the moorland and the road meandered down through some woods. It was getting decidedly dark as the clouds gathered and so I sheltered under a tree, as it had begun to rain, gently but rather persistently. My mobile bleeped several times and I flipped the lid open to see that I had no less than ten texts and six messages. There was one bar on the strength meter so I took a chance and rang for help.

‘118118 what number?’

‘AA please.’

‘Sales, technical support, roadside assistance or administration?’

‘Roadside assistance please.’

‘Would you like us to connect you?’

‘Yes please.’

‘Please be advised that you will incur a charge for this connection. If you are ringing from a mobile phone, the connection charge will be considerably more than it would be from a landline.’

‘Do you agree that you wish us to connect you?’

‘Yes please!’

‘Would you like us to send you a text with the number?’

‘Yes, no, I don’t care, just put me through!’

‘Certainly, please hold, while you are waiting is there anything else I can help you with?’

‘No thank you.’ I said taking deep breaths and thinking calming thoughts.

‘Just putting you through; have a nice d……’

I lost the signal–the ’phone went as dead as a dodo.

‘Oh HELL!’

It was raining harder now and my hair was becoming wet even under the tree. My sun dress that had felt so thin and cool in the summer sun now felt like a wet rag and my sandals didn’t do much for my feet either. As for my wet panties and bra–no I didn’t want to think about that. I could have stayed there, had a bit of a cry, or even lost my temper, but I didn’t.

I decided to carry on down the road towards Penmarris, avoiding the puddles wherever possible. Occasionally I looked at my phone and noted that I still had no signal.

The rain was bucketing down now, and the wind started to blow quite hard. I shivered in my thin dress and wondered if it was possible to die of exposure in June. Suddenly I heard a car horn from behind and nearly jumped out of my skin. Turning around, I saw an old Rover; behind the wheel was a man and a lady. They drew up beside me and the lady wound down the window.

‘Hello, dear, want a lift? You seem a bit wet.’

I just nodded, my teeth chattering with the cold.

‘Jump in the back, dear.’

I pulled open the door and got into the back seat. I was immediately attacked by a large dog who proceeded to try to dry me with its tongue.

‘Sandy, get off the lady. SANDY!’

Sandy got off me and sort of flopped down next to me, giving me an occasional lick of encouragement and the doe eyed look of a Labrador who’s been naughty.

‘Here, wipe your face, dear.’ The lady handed me a towel that smelt suspiciously of dog and then, after I had dried myself as much as possible, I noticed that we had set off again. The people in front were a couple in their early thirties I would say; she was wearing a summer frock and he–the driver–was wearing a dog collar. It didn’t need a big jump in imagination to realise that the vicar and his wife were doing the Samaritan thing with me.

I wasn’t given much time to think as I was then given an interrogation that would have given the Gestapo a run for their money. The vicar’s wife asked most of the questions whilst the vicar just beamed beatifically at me in the mirror.

‘My dear, why were you in the road like that, David could have run you over.’

‘Sorry, my car broke down and I was going for help.’

‘Was that your BMW back up on the moor?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh dear, never mind, Mr Potts will sort it out for you. What is your name, dear?’

I didn’t have a girl’s name and had never used one; I didn’t think Olivia ever wanted to call me anything but Tom, so Tom I was.

‘Erm, Samantha Smart.’ I said, off the top of my head.

‘Well I’m Jocasta, rotten name but parents, you know? This is David and you can probably guess that as he wears his collar back to front, he’s the vicar of Penmarris for his sins. Are you here for a holiday?’

I was warming up now as the warmth from the car’s heater penetrated my cold bones.

‘I don’t know yet. I might move down this way. This trip was a sort of exploratory one.’

‘Are you alone?’

‘I am now.’

‘Oh…marriage probs?’

‘Sort of.’

‘’Nuff said. Look, have you anywhere to stay?’

‘I thought that I’d fix something up when got to the village.’

‘Bit tricky at this time of year, most places are chocker. Look, you can stay with us tonight, can’t she, David, and you can sort yourself out tomorrow.’

‘I don’t want to be any trouble…’

‘It’s no trouble is it, dear, we’ve got plenty of room at the vicarage and you need to get out of those wet clothes.’

‘Thank you, you are very kind.’

Once again, the vicar beamed beatifically at me and his wife also beamed at me; then, as if by some sort of miracle, the rain stopped and the sun shone through a break in the clouds just as we crested the brow of a hill.

There below us, in all its picturesque glory, lay Penmarris Cove.