The vicar beamed at me beatifically and his wife also beamed at me and 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.

And now the story continues…

‘Oh,’ I gasped in wonder.

‘Yes, dear, it still gets us that way too.’

The photos on the internet didn’t do it justice. David pulled over to the side and we got out to look. I was still wet from the rain, but I paid little attention as I took in the beautiful scene before me.

Before us, the road descended steeply to the fishing village. There were several houses and cottages just to the right and left of us. These had a great view down to the sea and across the cove. The cove itself was more or less of crescent shaped, with the village at the centre, its small harbour sheltering the boats from the weather. Each end of the cove was a stretch of sandy beach that looked totally unspoilt by the tourist trade that I knew the village relied on. At the far end of both beaches, were low cliffs that helped to keep out the westerly winds that had caused so many problems for ships and boats for hundreds of years.

There were a fair number of people on the beaches, but no way could you call them crowded. Numerous houses, scattered on the hills among trees and bushes, commanded splendid views of the sea. From our high viewpoint, I could see the centre of the village appeared to be crammed with small stone or cob cottages lining narrow, winding lanes. On the quayside I noticed a pub, a couple of shops and what looked like a few restaurants, with people sitting at tables outside. Others were strolling on the quayside watching the comings and goings of the boats in the harbour.

The sea was an incredibly deep azure blue and looked very tranquil after the winds and rains earlier. There were several yachts and dinghies just outside the harbour but still under the relative shelter of the cove, the white sails, contrasting with the wonderful colour of the sea.

The church was over the other side of the cove from us, its spire tall and slightly lopsided, not as bad as the leaning tower of Pizza, but going that way.

Jocasta touched my arm and I jumped slightly from my reverie.

‘Shall we get home so you can get out of those wet things?’

I nodded, not saying anything.

We got back into the car and soon we took a left fork in the road that led across the top of the cove, past some gorgeous thatched cottages, a small primary school and children’s park and playground and then entered the drive of a large Victorian house near the church called St Petroc’s Vicarage.

Jocasta and I got out but David stayed in the car.

‘If you let me have your car keys, Samantha, I’ll sort out your car, and arrange for it brought here for you,’ he offered. I rummaged in my handbag, found the keys and passed them to him. Before I had a chance to thank him he was driving through the gates.

‘Come along in, dear, before you catch your death of cold.’

As we approached the front door of the imposing Victorian house, a couple of dogs came and said ‘hello,’ to us; one was a yorkie and the other a spaniel. I bent down and gave both of them a bit of a fuss. Looking around I couldn’t see Sandy, the lab who had obviously decided to stay in the car with David.

After we had said our hellos to the dogs we were allowed to walk around the back and enter the house via the kitchen.

‘Jen, Phillipa, I’m home; and we’ve got company,’ Jocasta bellowed in a voice that would be heard clear across the cove in a full gale.

In reply came the pounding of feet on stairs and two girls, one, I would say about twelve the other ten, skidded in the room. They looked quite like their mother with button noses and dark hair; both were wearing jeans and t-shirts and had their hair up in high ponytails.

They stopped dead when they saw me and the elder one just said, ‘Hello,’ rather shyly.

‘Hi,’ I said smiling.

‘This is Samantha, girls; she’s staying the night. Her car broke down and we rescued her. Samantha, the taller one is Jennifer but she hates it so we all call her Jen and the sprogette is Phillipa.’

‘I am not a sprogette, Mummy, I’m nearly as tall as Jen.’

‘I’m three inches taller than you and…’

‘Girls, girls, don’t argue when we have company. Have you both finished your homework?’

They looked at each other, giggled and with a wave, galloped back upstairs like a herd of baby elephants.

Jocasta just shook her head and looked at me. ‘Girls!’

‘Are you sure it’s no bother?’ I asked.

‘What?’

‘My staying here tonight.’

‘Of course not. Now, I’ll just show you to your room and sort out some clothes for you. I’m a bit bigger than you, but I’m sure I can find something from my diet days that ought to fit you fairly well. I’m sure you’d like to have a shower.’

I followed her upstairs and was shown into a pleasant room that overlooked the garden to the cove and the sea. It was a neat, tidy room with flowered wallpaper, a high ceiling, a double bed with an eiderdown, a couple of wooden wardrobes, a chest of drawers, a padded chair and a dressing table.

‘I hope you’ll be comfortable here, Samantha.’

‘It’s lovely.’ I said crossing to the window, ‘and the view, it’s really gorgeous; thanks sooo much for letting me stay.’

‘That’s all right. Nothing much happens here and it’s great to have another woman to chat to.’

I wondered if she would feel the same way if she knew my secret but then mentally shrugged as I had already decided that no one needed to know about me and it wasn’t as if I was going have any sort of relationship here.

I heard a slight thump-thump-thump sound coming from the hallway.

Jocasta frowned and said, ‘excuse me a minute.’

Looking out of the window, I wondered if my fickle finger of fate had chosen correctly when my digit found this place on the map. It seemed so right and so very pleasant. I hoped that the dream that I had about starting again would turn into reality. David and Jocasta, not forgetting the girls and the dogs, all seemed so pleasant and welcoming. I knew that it’s in a vicar’s job description to be nice and everything but I had a feeling in my tummy that I had made the right decision to come all the way down here. It was up to me whether I make a success of my adventure or slink away with my metaphorical tail between my legs. I giggled at that thought as I already had an appendage between my legs, held in place and out of sight by a gaff!

I heard some mumble shouts coming from down the hall and a definite reduction in the volume of thumping noise, so I assumed that the girls had been asked to turn the music down. Shivering slightly, I remembered that I was supposed to have a shower and get into some clean clothes. Just then Jocasta returned.

‘Sorry about that; daughters, eh? Right here are a few things that should fit you together with a towel. Use the smellies and stuff in the bathroom and I’ll see you in the kitchen for a cuppa later, okay?’

‘Okay and thanks.’

With a bright smile she left me to it.

I took the things into the bathroom and stripped off. Shivering slightly, I was soon in the shower warming up and washing the rain and dirt off me. Using the divinely scented shower gel, I was soon clean and feeling human again. I washed my hair with the sweet-smelling shampoo and then applied conditioner that made my hair feel nice and soft.

Using the fluffy towel, I dried myself, put on the robe and returned to the bedroom. I had to be careful because I didn’t want anyone to see my suspiciously flat chest.

Once back in the bedroom with the door firmly closed, I dried my hair using a hairdryer thoughtfully left for me. It took some time for my hair to dry as it was as long as it had ever been, but eventually the job was done, I put on my bra which, by now, was dry and slipped in my breast forms. I had some glue in my bag, they came with the breast forms when I bought them. Maybe, now that I was going to be Samantha all the time, I would take the opportunity to attach them more permanently.

Picking up the clean panties from the bed I put them on and then the white blouse and blue skirt. The skirt went down to my calf and was a bit “Mrs Vicar-ish”, but I had no cause for complaint as I was not into mini skirts anyway!

Brushing my hair took a few moments and then I fished around in my handbag for some makeup. It took just a few minutes to put my face on and as I brushed the lipstick on, I sighed with relief because I now looked the part again. I was never sure how feminine I looked without makeup so wearing some gave me more confidence to be my true self.

There was a knock on the door.

‘Come in.’

Jocasta put her head around the door.

‘Are you decent?’

I almost said, ‘no,’ but held myself back.

‘Yes, thanks for the clothes.’

‘That’s all right. Sorry I couldn’t find a bra that would fit you; I’m a bit big in that department. David has phoned me, Mr Potts the mechanic has taken your car to the garage and will bring back your cases. Did you know that your spare tyre was bald?’

‘No my wi…friend usually looked after the car. I just get in the thing and drive.’

‘Well, Mr Potts said that he will order the tyres as he doesn’t have ones like that in stock. He should have the car sorted by tomorrow some time. I said that you will be staying here. Is that all right?’

‘As long as it’s no trouble; you have done such a lot for me.’

‘Nonsense, it was nothing and as I said before, it’s nice to have some company of a woman roughly my own age. What with the girls and the large number of over-seventies we have around here, it really is refreshing to have someone like you around.’

‘If only you knew.’ I thought.

‘Well, are you ready for a cup of tea?’

‘Yes please.’

I followed her downstairs and soon we were sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea and biting into an enormous wedge of Victoria sponge cake.

Just after my second bite, the herd of elephants came thundering downstairs again and burst into the kitchen.

‘Mummy, Jen’s being a pest again…’

The girls were wearing riding gear, horse-riding that is. I pitied the poor horses riding around here as there didn’t seem to be much in the way of flat places as it was all hilly.

‘Phillipa, you beast, you’re always being nasty…’

‘GIRLS,’ shouted Jocasta and then, in a quieter voice, ‘What have I said about arguing and in front of a guest?’

They looked suitably sorry and I smiled at them and gave them a quick wink whilst their mother was distracted. They of course giggled and carried on giggling as they left the kitchen.

‘Be back in two hours or no tea.’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

Jocasta smiled. ‘They’re a bit of a handful but deep down they’re good girls.’

‘I’m sure they are.’ I replied.

We sipped our tea for a few moments relishing the silence.

Jocasta looked at me and was about to say something, but stopped herself as the doorbell rang.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, getting up. She returned a few minutes later with a man in dirty overalls.

‘This is Mr Potts, he wants a word.’

Mr Potts looked about eighty and somewhat doddery. If he was the mechanic, I would have the car checked again after he finished with it–but perhaps I was being unkind and rather ageist. He looked at me and smiled.

‘’Er be er purty li’l maid.’

‘Pardon?’ I said as he looked me up and down.

'Ah be bleaized d'zee ye.'

‘Sorry.’ I shrugged and looked at Jocasta and raised my eyebrows

Then he proceeded to talk to me; the problem was I only understood every fifth or sixth word of his broad Devon/Cornish accent and Jocasta with a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat had to translate.

‘He says that you have problems with one of your brake cylinders, it’s leaking.’

‘Oh does that mean that the engine’s knac…I mean broken?’

‘No the engine isn’t knackered, dear, just the thing that stops the car when it’s moving; you know, brake pedal, the thing you press when you stop the car. That’s connected to the wheel brakes and that’s what needs mending.’

‘I’m not simple you know,’ I said smiling, ‘I’m just not very mechanically minded. So what happens now?’

Mr Potts mumbled something that sounded like sprockets and manglewurzles, I think.

‘He said that he has to send for the parts and it will take a few days.’

‘Okay, I’m not going anywhere much anyway, I’ll have to wait for it to be fixed then.’

Mr Potts who could evidently understand English even if he didn’t speak my version of it, doffed his cap gave me a toothy grin and waddled out of the kitchen.

Jocasta and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

‘I think I’m going to need evening classes in Devonish if that’s what it’s called!’ That set us off again. As soon as we had had calmed down a bit, we had another cup of tea out of the huge pot, and things got back to relative normality. ‘Do they all speak like that down here?’

‘Mr Potts is about the worst case of it. He thinks that Exeter is abroad and has never strayed far from home his whole life. When he was born, everyone spoke like that, but now, it’s not so bad. What with people coming into the area from the outside and everything the dialect has been diluted somewhat. Of course, TV has a lot to answer for as the kids pick up more from that and their friends than their elderly relatives, so understanding most people isn’t too much of a problem.’

Jocasta took a sip from her cup and then looked at me somewhat inquisitively.

‘So Samantha, what is it that you’re running away from?’