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Previously…

I began to see the light.

‘So, let me get this straight,’ I said. ‘You want me to come home, be a good little boy and do as I’m told; be the father of her child and then you can get your knighthood without a stain on your character or those around you?’

‘Well I wouldn’t say that, but I’m sure that it would be for the best. You can forget your dressing up games though, I won’t tolerate that and nor will Olivia, she gone past the sick phase of getting her jollies humping men in drag.’

I stood up–on the verge of tears. Looking down at his increasingly balding head, I kept it short. I did not want to break down in front of him. ‘Nigel, I am divorcing Olivia and that’s final. I never want to see you again. I feel sorry for the poor child in her belly, but she’s made her bed and now she can lie on it. Goodbye!’

With a nod to Katie, I walked out, almost blinded by tears; I stumbled down the steps of the office and there, waiting for me outside, was Abby. She opened her arms and I fell into them.

And now the story continues…

I didn’t know quite how, but I found myself back home just a few minutes later. I recall being bundled into a car–Abby’s old thing I think–and then being driven away from the High Street. That was about the limit of my awareness.

I had really lost it after that hateful meeting with Nigel and only some loving cuddles and a strong cup of tea, made me pull myself together again.

We were sitting on the couch in the studio, my head resting on Abby’s lovely soft chest. She said nothing, instinctively realising that I needed time to gather my thoughts together. Her calm reassuring presence helped tremendously and I felt better quite quickly. Sitting up and staring at the tissue I had clutched in my hand, it was stained with mascara and traces of other makeup. After another sip of the strong, sweet tea, I sighed and then gazed at Abby again and noticed that her once-white blouse, was now streaked with my makeup.

‘Oh, Abby!’ I sniffed, ‘your lovely blouse–I’ve ruined it.’

‘Nah! It’ll wash out. How are you feeling, love?’

‘A lot better, thanks; I bet my face looks a picture?’

‘I must admit I’ve seen you looking better, but it’s not surprising after what you’ve been through–talking of which, what happened?’

After another slurp of tea, I put my cup down with a slightly shaky hand, and turned back to face her. She opened her arms and she gave me another welcoming cuddle while I related everything that had occurred in Katie’s office.

When I had finished and after another bout of tears, she gazed at me. ‘What a—a class one, sick little man,’ she said, her eyes almost as damp as mine. ‘I’d like to do something painful and definitely illegal to him, but that sort of person probably enjoys BDSM so I just hope that you screw every single penny you can get out of his daughter. The only way these people are hurt is through their pockets.’

‘How could I have been so blind, Abby?’

‘They say love is blind.’

‘Not where you are concerned. Ever since I first clapped eyes on you I knew that you were the only one for me.’

‘You probably felt that way about Olivia. But, don’t worry, love, I’ll stick to you like a well-trained limpet, and I would never, ever take advantage of you.’

I glanced at her and smiled.

‘I wouldn’t mind you taking advantage of me, it could be fun!’

‘That’s my girl. Now, pop upstairs, have a shower, put on something pretty and we’ll go and have lunch in the pub. You need a stiff drink and it might help get you through the coming ordeal with Fifi.’

‘I’m not very good with alcohol. It doesn’t agree with me, you know.’

‘How about a shandy?’

‘I reckon I could just about manage that.’

‘Right, off you go, girl, and don’t forget to wash behind your ears.’

‘Yes, Mummy.’

‘Bloody cheek,’ she said as we both stood up and she chased me out of the room.

We sat outside on the terrace at the Toad and Tart. The weather was hot, but not too hot as the breeze from the sea cooled things down a fair amount. The beaches were well populated and some hardy souls were having a dip in the sea. Off the coast, beyond some red marker buoys, a couple of speed boats with water skiers in tow were going back and forth, parallel to the beach, occasionally losing their balance and falling in.

It all looked a bit dangerous to me, but then I wasn’t very good in the water so I was unsure if I was right or not.

I had a Cornish pasty–or Tiddy Oggie as, I’m told, they call it on the other side of the Tamar. I reckoned it must have been smuggled across the border in an unmarked lorry, and was enjoying it immensely. I had just about recovered from Nasty Nigel Syndrome and realised that the way he talked to me and the things he said were designed to unsettle me and make me agree to his preposterous demands. I recalled the look on his face when I stormed out of the meeting–as if his pet poodle had turned round and bitten him on the bum.

Yes, he had upset me, but I had to move on. As far as I was concerned, he, together with his precious daughter, were now part of history. On the other hand, Abby–sitting in front of me tucking into a tuna salad and a G and T–was my future. She had already stood by me and supported me when I needed it. My other friends, like Jocasta, Katie and Millie would be there for me too. It gave me a pleasant, warm feeling in my tummy to know that I had friends such as these.

I managed to finish my pasty–just, and felt well and truly full up. Those things are a meal in themselves. Abby, being a bit of a piggy, decided to have a Devon cream tea, complete with scones, jam and clotted cream for afters. I had no idea where she put it. ‘She must have hollow legs!’ I thought.

I kept an eye on my watch; it was drawing close to the time that I had to go up to the manor house, curtsy, show how ’umble I was and then make an initial sketch of Fifi the wonder dog. They say never work with children and animals. Well children aren’t too bad if you bribe them with sufficient sweets or presents, they might sit still long enough for one to do what one has to. But animals, that’s a whole new ball game. They don’t sit still for two seconds flat and are distracted very easily.

Glancing at my watch for the umpteenth time I came to the conclusion that it was time to go.

‘Abby, I have to shoot off. How do I get to Lady F’s?’

‘She lives in the Manor House off the Thameworth Road.’

‘Is that her pile? I bet she has extensive views of the whole of the Cove from up there.’

‘Yes and the house sits on 500 acres of land.’

‘Blimey, I’ve left it a bit late.’ I exclaimed in a voice that wasn’t in any way panicky.

‘Sam, sweetie, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m going to give you a lift up there. Do you need to stop off at yours for anything?’

‘You are a star! I need to get a few bits and pieces. Do I look okay in this?’ I waved my hands up and down.

‘Mmm, you should, of course, go formal. Ball gown, tiara, pearls, naturellement; long satin gloves sont absolument de rigeur…’

‘Blimey, have you swallowed a French dicker? I thought that this sensible top and skirt would do?’

‘Well you are of the working class, child, so one cannot expect, shall we say any breeding or fashion sense. I suppose it will have to do.’

It was as if Lady Fairbairn was in front of me, Abby had her to a tee. We giggled and I checked my watch again.

‘We have to go now!’

We left the pub, waving goodbye to the barman and the two seemingly permanent patrons who appeared to be everlastingly super-glued to their bar stools.

Making our way downstairs, we went over to where Abby’s car was parked.

Dolly, was an ancient 2CV that had seen better days, twenty years ago. Now she was a bit long in the tooth but amazingly always started first time and rarely let her owner down. So she was uncomfortable to sit in and the noise from the engine was a bit like a cross between a lawnmower and the braying of a neurotic donkey, but her heart was in the right place and that was all that mattered.

We chugged and crawled up a few hills and down a couple of winding bumpy lanes. Well the lanes weren’t that bumpy but Dolly’s suspension was soft and bouncy and she rocked and rolled so alarmingly as Abby negotiated the corners that I began to feel a bit seasick! It could have been no worse battling out of Penmarris Cove aboard the lifeboat in a Force 9 gale.

We turned left through some impressive ornamental gates into a wide gravel drive and then, after what seemed like fifteen minutes, the house burst into view. It was huge and decidedly imposing. It appeared to be Georgian and would not have looked out of place in Bath. There were many rooms and the window cleaner’s bill would have been sufficient to finance a second home on the Costa Brava. Mind you, Lady F probably had servants who did that sort of thing for peanuts.

We stopped outside the ornate front doors. I picked up my bits and pieces and then turned and gave Abby a kiss on the lips.

‘Right, give me a tinkle on the dog and bone when yer done, luv, and don’t forget ter grovel–’tis expected.’

I giggled.

‘Abby, Elisa Doolittle you most definitely are not, now please go before I wet myself!’

We both laughed and, giving me a wave, she drove off.

I turned round and wondered if I ought to ring the bell or find the tradesman’s entrance. The choice was taken away from me when the doors swung open and a young man came out. Now I love PG Wodehouse and I recognised a butlering Jeeves-type when I see one.

‘Good afternoon. Miss Smart, is it?’

‘Yes, that’s me–I.’

‘Please come in, Miss; Lady Fairbairn will see you in the drawing room. Would you step this way, please?’

As I followed the butler I was slightly disappointed: he didn’t sound like Jeeves at all: neither plummy nor stuck up–almost normal really.

When I was quite small, my sister and I were taken to visit several stately homes by our parents. I was always bored as it wasn’t my cup of tea or–at that age–can of coke. One thing that always struck me was how enormously high the ceilings were and I couldn’t understand why. I said to my father once that it would have been more sensible to put a ceiling half way up and you could then make two floors out of one. He just said, ‘stupid boy’ in the manner of Captain Mainwaring in Dad's Army, and ignored me.

This was like those stately homes and as I walked along, I kept wondering whether we would go around a corner and find several Japanese visitors taking photos and bowing to everyone.

‘I bet this place takes a lot of heating.’ I said, by way of conversation.

He looked back at me and smiled. ‘Yes, Miss, we have generators of course, but oil is getting rather expensive. We do have a forest, of course, so there is no shortage of wood.’

After that, the conversation flagged; I did wonder if this place was a bit like a TARDIS, you know bigger on the inside than out. It seemed to me like we had walked miles. I know the manor house was big, but still…

He approached a large door and opened it without knocking. announcing, ‘Miss Smart, m’lady,’ and then waved me past.

I entered the oak-panelled room. It was full of furniture that definitely hadn’t started life, flat packed at Ikea before being assembled with a cross head screwdriver and one of those funny key things... In fact it was all very expensive looking and antique-y, if that’s the right term. Over by the window, the lady of the house was sitting holding a book in one hand and stroking a dog who was sitting beside her with the other. As I approached, she looked up and put the book down.

‘Ah, there you are, Miss Smart. Glad you’re punctual, can’t stand poor punctuality. Sacked the first floor maid the other day, she was two minutes late with my morning cup of Darjeeling. Right, this is Fifi.’

Fifi looked at me and if anything she was more haughty than her mistress. She looked me up and down, yawned and then lay down on the floor. I obviously wasn’t important enough for a sniff let alone a lick.

‘She’s tired, poor lamb. Well, I suppose we need to get started. Haven’t got all day, don’t y’know. Have to see the vicar about the sermon on Sunday. He was a bit too radical for my liking last week. All that “Love thy neighbour” nonsense, well, if we all did that, nothing would get done. So, where d’you want her?’

It took me a moment to get over her change of direction.

‘Erm.’

‘Come on, girl, where do you want her to sit?’

‘Over by the window, please.’

‘Right.’ She clicked her fingers and Fifi, sort of stood to attention.

‘Come on, girl.’

Lady F walked to the window and the dog followed her and sat down next to her. I assumed that this was the ‘at ease’ position.

‘That all right?’

‘Y…Yes perfect. Can I ask you a few questions.’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you want the portrait to be as she is at the moment, standing or any other position.’

‘Leave it up to you. Her best side is to the left.’

‘Right.’

‘I said left, are you deaf?’

‘Sorry; erm okay. Are you happy for the background to be this room or would you prefer her to be outside?’

‘She rarely goes outside, like me, she abhors direct sunlight.’

‘So she doesn’t go out for walks?’

‘No; my man takes her for a morning and evening walk around the house. That is sufficient.’

‘So you want her inside.’

‘Naturally.’

I looked at Fifi; I swear that she hadn’t blinked once.

‘What sort of dog is she?’

‘A Labradoodle, a cross between a Labrador and a Poodle. My husband, Sir Tremaine, bought her for me shortly before he died.’

‘I’m sorry, m’lady?’

‘What for?’

‘That Sir Tremaine has died.’

She was silent for a moment.

‘Thank you, I still miss him tremendously,’ she said quietly and then more loudly, ‘Right-oh, back to business. I’ll leave you now. If there’s anything you need, pull on that rope and my butler, Jenkins, will see to your requirements.’

She quickly stroked Fifi’s head and got a lick in return, then sailed out of the room leaving me with Fifi who was gazing at me sardonically.

‘Right, Fifi, let’s make friends, shall we?’ I said, approaching her. ‘I’m Samantha.’

She took another look at me and then at the door. She got up and went over to where her mistress had left the room and sniffed. She cocked her head to one side and listened for few seconds. Then she looked at me and with a rush, she came at me and jumped…

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To Be Continued...

Please leave comments...thanks! ~Sue

Edited by Gabi and posted by her at Sue’s request.