Previously…

‘Do you two want more children?’

I looked at Abby and she at me. We had talked about this lot lately and hadn’t really made any decision yet. We presumed that we had all the time in the world and we also wanted to concentrate on Heather for a while. We had discussed it with Marcia about a month ago and she said that she would find out what our options were, for when we were ready to decide.

‘Yes, eventually.’ I replied, ‘but we weren’t sure about whether we would adopt or use some of the sperm that Olivia had siphoned off, so to speak.’

‘I have just had the fertility clinic on the phone. They say – we have a problem, Houston.’

‘What problem?’

‘Nigel’s mother has demanded that the sperm be destroyed. If we move quickly we can head her off. The person in charge of the clinic is an old school chum and she’s stonewalling, but time’s limited. If it goes to court, it could take half a lifetime to sort out and the sperm may not be viable by the time it is sorted. It would mean inseminating you, if you want that, Abby and hoping that it all works out.’

‘What?’ said Abby and I together.

Then Katie spoke–

‘Now for the very bad news, she is going to court to gain custody of Heather. She doesn’t consider your “relationship” to be a fit one in which to bring up a child.’

‘WHAT––?’

And now the story continues…

The silence was tangible. Both Abby and I were in shock, while Katie let what she had told us sink in.

After a minute or two, Katie coughed gently and said, ‘Tell us about Nigel’s mother,’

I looked at them took a deep breath and trying to ignore the shock of what had just been said, proceeded to tell them the few facts about what I knew of her.

‘Victoria Manning was–is a bitch. She never liked me even before she knew about who or what I was. Olivia was her only granddaughter and she doted over her. Nothing was good enough for Olivia. I don’t think that even that Charlie Windsor would have been up to standard. According to Victoria, Olivia married beneath her when she married me.

‘I was a penniless artist–in Victoria’s eyes, the lowest of the low. I should have been a banker or at least have money behind me. It was always money-money-money with her. She likes it more than anything else. She married three times and all three husbands died early. There was no suspicion of any foul play, but when one dies of food poisoning, another falls off a cliff and a third dies of a heart attack in the middle of sex with a girl half his age, you can see that things never go quite right when you are in her sphere.

‘Nigel was her son and he was a product of her warped, power-crazy and–I think–lunatic personality. Nigel idolised her and did all he could to live up to her standards. I know Olivia told Victoria about my ‘dressing’ in an unguarded moment and that the old bat did everything she could to poison her against me. The only strange thing was that she never told her son about that side of me. Whether this omission was because she was reluctant to hurt Olivia or just wanted to use the information as some sort of weapon when she might require Nigel to do her a service of some kind, I never knew.

‘I only ever met her twice; once when I was summonsed to tea on our engagement and once at the wedding, where she snubbed me as thoroughly as a Darcy at a ball. I just wasn’t good enough for her precious Olivia who was constantly bombarded by the old cow to drop me, but she never did, well for Victoria, anyway.’

I stopped there, thinking about what actually did happen to split up Olivia and I. The thought of her and a man in my bed still hurt, despite the fact that she was now lying in the graveyard not half a mile away.

I glanced up and everyone was gazing at me, and smiled slightly as my eyes met Abby’s. I was the lucky one in all this–or I was until this bombshell dropped.

‘Thanks, Sam, at least we know a bit more about her. We’ll talk of this later. I want to know all the dirt. Well, let me say this; as far as I can see, she hasn’t got a leg to stand on regarding the sperm. Legally it’s yours and she would find it extremely difficult to make any sort of case against you in court. I reckon she’s doing it to highlight the other business–whether or not you are fit and able to look after Heather. Marcia, did you want to say something?’

‘Yes, thanks Katie.’ she looked at Abby and I and smiled, ‘it looks like we don’t have that much to worry about regarding Victoria and her claims regarding the sperm, but the clinic say that when Olivia was inseminated, they told her that the sperm that they used was not of good quality and that it was hit and miss as to whether she could be impregnated. The place you went to have your sperm count was not properly equipped to store the sperm and when it was moved to the clinic, it was found to be a less than ideal batch. In theory the sperm can be frozen indefinitely; however, because of the quality they feel it should be sooner rather than later that you decide what you want to do with it.’

I gazed at Abby and she looked at me.

‘We’ll discuss it and get back to you very soon,’ Abby said.

‘All right, we’ll leave it at that for the moment.’

‘Good,’ said Katie, all business, ‘As far as you and the law are concerned Sam, you are the natural father of Heather and Victoria would have to prove that you are not caring for the child properly. I could get twenty witnesses in court to swear that you are a wonderful mother and that Heather is spoilt rotten in the nicest possible way. Now let’s face facts, she will get the best legal team that her money can buy, but she doesn’t realise, I think, that you are stinking rich and what she can do, you can top.’

‘She must know that I inherited from Olivia?’

‘Yes, but from what I have heard, she had not been as close to Nigel towards the end as she had been, due to some sort of bust up and so wasn’t aware as to how his wealth had mushroomed in a comparatively short time. I would be very surprised though, if she doesn’t find out soon; especially as you are rather splashing your wealth about now.’

‘You can’t blame me for the yacht–up until recently–I didn’t even know that I owned it!’

‘Perhaps: anyway, I have already set my tame detective agency to poring over her finances and one thing is clear, she hasn’t got as much money as she had. She was hit badly in the recession. I do think that she is being devious and may at some early stage try to contest Nigel’s will, especially when she is made aware of the amounts involved; but once again, I think that she is on very shaky ground as the will stated quite clearly that everything bar a few small items went to Olivia and Olivia had you as her sole beneficiary. I will be getting Queens Counsel’s opinion on this but I am sure we’ll win through on all counts.’

‘Thanks, Katie, you too, Marcia. I don’t care what it costs; I want her off our backs so we don’t have any chance of losing Heather–or the money.’

‘That’s my girl,’ Abby said with conviction.

~ §~

All these upsets and potential problems put a bit of a damper on the rest of the day and I was only too glad to get to bed that night.

As I spooned up to Abby, her breathing slow and quiet as she slept, I pondered the revelations I heard today. I had spent some time talking to Katie about Victoria–she was pure poison and I had thought that she would be banished from my life forever. It had occurred to me that she might contact me regarding access to Heather, but never expected this. I tried to put all thoughts of the odious old hag out of my mind. One thing I had learned over the years was that worrying about things rarely helped, especially at one o’clock in the morning.

I cupped my hand over Abby’s silky clad breast and played with her erect nipple; she moaned slightly and then slept on.

While we had cuddled up that evening, we had discussed at some length about what we would do about the sperm and I recalled the conversation. We had been sitting on the sofa–well, she had been sitting and I had lain down with my head on her lap as she stroked my hair.

‘What do you want to do then?’ I asked, gazing up at her pretty face.

‘What do you want to do? ’tis your sperm, my love.’

I pondered momentarily. ‘It would be nice to have a brother or sister for Heather. I am not a great believer in only children–look at Olivia; she was a singleton and look what happened to her.’

‘You can’t use Olivia as an argument; there are millions of kids that are only children in the world. They aren’t all like Olivia.’

‘I know I’m generalising and being irrational, but that’s how I feel at the moment. I want to have a big family if we can, either by trying for our own or adopting.’

‘You aren’t getting erections any more, are you?’

‘No, not really, it sort of goes semi hard–especially when I’m thinking about you or doing some of the sexual gymnastics we get up to but other than that, it’s a bit of a damp squib. Marcia said that would happen once the pills started to kick in.’

‘And you want to go all the way still and have it snipped off?’

I squirmed a bit at that thought. I wasn’t very good with surgery–especially if it was on me, but a girl has to do–– ‘It’s not snipped of like with garden shears you know, it’s sexual reassignment I want, not pruning.’

‘I know, love, but you still want to go through with it?’

‘Yes, more than almost anything. Look, we are going round and round in circles. If it means that we can have a baby using my sperm and you are willing to try it, let’s do it and try for a baby. You’ve said before that you want to get pregnant if and when the time was right.’

She stroked my hair for a bit and looked into the distance. Then gazed down at me lovingly and smiled. ‘I wonder what the fashionable mothers-to-be wear now days?’

‘How about a raffia skirt and gumboots?’ I suggested and we both got the giggles.

After that, we went to bed and practiced a few ‘manoeuvres’ that were knackering, but very satisfying.

~ §~

The next morning we were up and about as usual. Breakfast in our cottage was a strange affair by any standards. When you have two million cats to feed and they insist on following you around, getting under your feet and trying to trip you, or sticking their heads into fridges or sitting exactly where you want to plant your own posterior, it can, at times, try the patience of a saint.

Then there is our beloved Heather, who has learnt that food does not necessarily have to go in the mouth and when it does, it’s a lot of fun to spit it out again.

Then we had to feed ourselves, hose Heather down–again, and get ready to go to work. You can see that we rarely have a dull moment in the morning. In fact by the time we get down to the quay, we are already shattered. As we left the cottage, struggling with the almost lorry load of stuff we had to take for little Missy, Postman Pat pulled up in his red van. His name is really Arnold, but as he had a black and white cat (supplied by Abby) everyone calls him Pat after the children’s TV show, not that I ever watched it of course!

‘Mornin’ ladies!’ he said in his soft Somerset accent. Like me, he was an immigrant from other places. ‘Recorded delivery for you, Samantha, m’dear.’

I transferred Heather to a spare arm and using a pen scribbled my signature on his little hand-held computer thingy.

‘Thanks, m’love. Yurr y’are then.’

He handed me an envelope and without really looking at it, I stuffed it into my bag with the nappies and other essentials.

‘Thanks, Pat.’

‘No problem and if yew wants I to deliver any mail to yer boat, yew let I know.’

‘Riiight! Bye now.’

I waved him off and continued on to the car. Abby had gone on ahead and to the lovely, wonderful, clean and shiny Beemer which after my immediate family, was the love of my life.

I strapped lickle Heather in her seat and let her play with the mobile thingy on the back of the front passenger seat; moments later I slid into the seat next to Abigail and was all belted up. Slid being the operative word when you have yummy cream leather seats.

I sometimes let Abby drive, otherwise she sulks. She had a perfectly good car of her own, but it is a bit small for our joint needs and she only uses it on the rare occasions when we have to go somewhere separately. I kissed my two best girls goodbye at the pottery. Heather was with Abby this morning and I was going to take over on the afternoon shift. Tracy was in the gallery when I turned up three minutes late.

‘Wot time djyer call this then?’ she said, rather smugly I thought for someone who quite recently was unable to get in on time to save her life.

‘Belt up and make the tea,’ I growled pleasantly.

We had a bit of a rush on that morning, five people came in and two of them bought some art, which was good because that’s why we’re there. I wasn’t making a mint of money, but the place was paying for itself, which was good enough for me.

Tracy did most of the selling. I cannot understand how anyone who didn’t know her could possibly understand her without a cockney/Southend phrase book, but somehow she got her meaning across and I only had to sit there a looking intelligent and hopefully pretty while she strutted her stuff.

At about 11 o’clock, the door pinged again. Looking up from the mag I was reading, I smiled.

‘Hello, Dawn!’ My sister entered looking slightly scruffy in a t-shirt and jeans. ‘You look nice,’ I added, ‘dressed up to come and see me then?’

She sat beside me. ‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Sam. No, I have been clearing out the attic of our cottage and it’s exceedingly grotty up there. Then, after seeing a spider the size of a dinner plate, I decided to let hubby darling deal with it before I venture up there again. Then I thought of my dear sweet sister and the fact that I am dying for a drink or something. I couldn’t be bothered to change, as ’tis only you, after all. So I am killing two birds with one stone; let’s have a cuppa.’

I looked at Tracy who was texting her new girlfriend–again.

‘Trace, can you look after the shop. Dawn and I have an important meeting with a couple of cappuccinos’

She looked up and smiled; she was miles away.

‘Yeah, wot? Erm, gotcha.’

‘I take that to mean yes?’

‘Wot? Er, yeah.’

Dawn and I looked at each other and smiled knowingly–ah, young love.

Sitting outside the Continental Tea Rooms was rather nice. It was autumn now, of course and the village was fairly quiet, being-mid week and out of season. Even the seagulls were standing outside the Sun And Sea Holidays shop on the promenade gazing wistfully at the Photoshopped pictures of tropical climes. It was still warm but of an evening it became decidedly nippy with the breeze coming off the sea. But enough of the shipping forecast; we sipped our drinks and nice, but naughty jam doughnuts and caught up on things. I had texted her the previous day about Victoria so I expected this call today.

‘How are the kids?’ I asked, as Melanie went to fetch our order.

‘Not bad, had to go up the surgery yesterday.’

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Marcia didn’t mention it.’

‘I told her not to say anything. Anyway she has to abide by that hippy-whatsit oath. Anyway, don’t ask me how, but Timothy, bless his little cotton undies, managed to stick a small pebble up his nose when he was down on the beach with the other school kids; he’s been doing things like that lately. We had the pencil incident and then the pea occurrence and now this. Marcia reckons that it’s just a phase. I hope so. I don’t want to take him to the doctor’s at eighteen with this sort of problem.’

‘Is he all right now?’

‘A bit sore but it serves him right, so I have no sympathy.’

Just then, Melanie came back with our goodies so we waited until she had parked the comestibles and then Dawn got to the point.

‘Now, tell me,’ she said after a quick slurp of coffee and a bite of doughnut that left a film of icing sugar on her top lip; ‘What that sodding bitch has done now?’

Dawn and Victoria were like oil and water, chalk and cheese and other opposites that I can’t think of just now but would remember later.

Quickly I brought her up to speed regarding the sperm thingy and the fact that she wanted to baby-snatch Heather.

‘The cow, isn’t there anything that slimy, two-timing excuse for womanhood wouldn’t do?’

‘Probably not. Remember her son was Nigel and he was no angel.’

‘Hmm; well I think that you are doing the right thing. Let the legal eagles sort it out and let’s hope your private dicks––’

‘–I wish you wouldn’t call them that, sis. They’re a well respected investigation agency, not something disgusting that’s hidden in their knickers.’

‘All right, whatever. Let’s hope your ‘investigation agency’, can come up with the goods.’

‘You watch too much television.’

‘Wash your mouth out. Television is the only true God and I follow it religiously.’

‘God will strike you down for that or at least make your toast fall butter side down.’

‘Has Jocasta been filling your head with religion?’

‘Well she is the vicar’s wife and now I’m in the young mother’s gang, it’s kind of expected to at least say ‘God is cool,’ occasionally. But let’s not get into religion now. What do you think about Abby and I getting the turkey baster out and making a new baby?’

‘Sounds cool to me. The little frozen wriggly things are doing no good in the deep freeze. Get ‘em out and put ’em to work. The little lazy buggers have to earn their keep, you know.’

‘Dawn, you never used to be quite so crude before. What’s changed you?’

‘Big Brother.’

‘Oh.’ I said, understanding.

I would have to get her on a few committees and doing some good works before her brain completely rots. She used to be a nurse once. Perhaps now the kids were growing up she could get back into that? I would suggest to Dotty that she asks Matron at the cottage hospital to see if there were any vacancies. If there were, I would casually bring it up in conversation when her guard was down. Dawn was a woman with a low boredom threshold and I felt it was my sisterly duty to get her back to sanity. Who said I couldn’t be machi–machiavel–devious?

~ §~

The afternoon followed its normal course. While I had been out cappuccinoing–if that’s the word–with Dawn, Tracy had managed to sell a bust and a photograph. I felt decidedly surplus to requirements so I left her in charge again and went to collect Heather from the other ’alf.

As I left Abby, she was busy with an old lady who couldn’t decide which chamber pot she wanted–she called out to me.

‘Dotty and Sarah are babysitting tonight.’

‘Why?’

‘I thought that it would be nice to go to the restaurant for a meal for a change, so dig out a tent or something to wear and we’ll go and taste the high life.’

‘All right; it will be nice to go out for a change. I could murder a nice bloody undercooked steak.’

Abby winced. She was a semi-vegetarian and always gets on her high horse when she was eating like a rabbit and I was eating like Orca, The Killer Whale on steroids. I say semi-veggie, but after a bit she can’t take any more and starts eating her way through anything that had been killed and gone in the freezer.

I waved goodbye to her and to the old lady who was ignoring me and attempting to try out one of the chamber pots–don’t ask how, this is Penmarris!

As it was such a nice day, I decided that delegation was a good thing and left Tracy to look after the shop while I had some quality time with Heather.

We walked along the quay, well I walked and she sat there in the buggy pointing at everything and sucking on her dummy with her celebrated imitation of a sink plunger.

We went down the steps and sat on the beach for a bit. Over to the left in the harbour, our yacht was rising and falling gently on its moorings. I wondered if Victoria knew about it. Well I was getting rather attached to it and hell would freeze over before she got her clammy mitts on it or anything else of ours, up to and including Heather.

I pondered at my reaction, while sifting some fine golden sand through my fingers. I never wanted any of this when I ran away from home–because that is what I did after I found my wife in bed with another bloke–and came down to this idyllic place with all its mad inhabitants and quirky ways.

I never asked for the money, I never wanted Olivia to die–or Nigel come to that–although he was a complete and absolute sod. Heather would now grow up without ever knowing who her natural mother was and that was sad.

I had decided early on to accept what ‘is’ and not what ‘could have been’. There were now so many more positives in my life, in fact, more than I had ever had before. I had found Abby and we were as happy as any couple could be; then, Heather had come to me as a gift from heaven following tragic circumstances and I knew that I could never allow her to be taken from me and Abby.

After our little outing on the beach, we returned to the quay and the Continental Tea Rooms; I had another Cappo and Heather a juice. I fished out my purse to pay Melanie and saw the envelope that Postman Pat had given me earlier. I had clean forgotten it.

I put the envelope on the table, made sure that Heather was suitably refreshed with her juice and then I had a sip of coffee before picking up the hand written envelope and opening it.

My coffee went cold as I read the contents.

Tom or whatever you call yourself now.

I won’t say ‘dear’ because you are not that to me and never will be.

I put you on notice that I will not stand by and let both my son and granddaughter’s name be tarnished by one such as you.

I know that somehow you have got hands on my son’s money and assets and I intend to contest the will made by Olivia due to the fact that the marriage had irrevocably broken down due to your unnatural habits and demands and should therefore be made null and void. I have been told by my legal people that I have no chance of restricting your access to the sperm that was in possession of my granddaughter’s so called representatives and I will, for the sake of harmony and the fact that I do not wish to appear vindictive, drop that part of my claims against you.

However, my great granddaughter is another matter. I believe that you are an unfit father and not able to look after a child, any child, due to your unnatural lifestyle. The fact that a woman, any woman in fact, could live with you and your ‘dressing-up and other unnatural habits’ shows that she is either a fool or a simpleton. I will therefore seek custody of my great grandchild as soon as the courts allow it.

If you harm my great grandchild in any way or attempt to escape abroad, I will ensure that the full force of the law, both civil and criminal will be ruthlessly pursued.

Victoria Manning.

I could have cried then, but I didn’t. She was pressing all the buttons that on previous occasions would have set me off down the ‘falling apart at the seams’ route. But, I had seen it, done it and bought the t-shirt with Nigel and to a certain extent Olivia already, with this type of crap. Whereas Olivia had mattered to me at one time and the fact that also I had tried my hardest to get closer and friendlier with Nigel, if only for the sake of my marriage, I never had any feelings for the Venom Woman.

I stared at her letter for a while and then carefully put it back in the envelope and then my bag. For some time I sat there wondering why and how this could possibly have happened. Then again, I had been forewarned by Marcia that the bitch was coming after me so it should come as no great surprise that I would receive a letter from her. Indeed she had written to me before about my so called shortcomings, while I was still married to Olivia. I had never shown any of the poisonous letters to Olivia as my marriage was shaky enough without that added petrol on the fire, but, knowing Olivia, she probably knew about them anyway.

It was almost as if Nigel had been looking over Victoria’s shoulder while she wrote this letter. It sounded so much like something that he would have written. Well at least I knew now where I stood. I would take the letter to Katie tomorrow and let her have a look at it.

I decided to say nothing to Abby about it; she was worried enough about things without her seeing a noxious letter like that, especially as it said such vile things about her. I would show it to her eventually–but not just now.

I suppose I was still unsure of myself and insecure. Deep down I was terrified that Abby would not want to have anything to do with me and get fed up with the amount of old baggage I seemed to have around my neck. I wouldn’t blame her. Everywhere I went I was haunted by the past and another piece of that past had now arrived and things looked as if they would be difficult for a while to say the least…

‘Enough, Samantha, be strong; you are not a blob of jelly.’

So I picked myself up, dusted myself off and started all over again; sticking the letter back in my handbag and added it on my mental ‘things to do’ list for the following day.

~ §~

That evening, we dropped off Heather at Dotty’s and after a protracted farewell where Mummy Dotty showed us how accurate her Purdy was by firing at an old bust of Julius Caesar and blowing him to smitherines; we left them to it and drove down to the sea front and Luigi’s.

I had decided not to wear a tent and had on a rather nice cream off-the-shoulder silk dress by Alexander McQueen with matching pashmina. Abby looked lovely in her Vera Wang navy silk, net draped front, cocktail dress with lacy shrug. A year ago, I would never have thought of wearing such finery but now, it was something that wasn’t that unusual.

We had both made the effort; because we didn’t have many occasions where we could glam up a bit and enjoy ourselves. I had taken ages over my hair and makeup as I wanted to look as nice as possible for Abby. Judging by the way she looked, she felt the same about me. To be frank (or would that be Frances?) it was a tossup whether we would make it to the restaurant because we wanted to go all primeval and do things that would make even ‘a lady of the night’ blush.

In the end, sense won over lust, (shame!)

Luigi’s is an Italian restaurant; just off the East Beach, was one of those restaurants that oozed class and refinement. People came as far as Cornwall and Somerset to taste the delights and heights of Signor Luigi’s culinary excellence. It was one of only a few three Michelin star restaurants in the area and it was extremely popular all year round. The fact that Abby had managed to get a table was a miracle in itself. I had a vague suspicion that money had exchanged hands.

We were shown to our table, which was in an alcove one and overlooked by nobody. The lights were dim and there was a lighted candle and a single long stem rose on the pristine white table cloth, talk about romantic!

I won’t go into a blow by blow account of the meal, but it was five courses and by the time we had reached the coffee, we were pleasantly replete. The food was superb and the service excellent and unobtrusive. I chanced just one glass of Pasqua Soave Classico Superiore Sagramoso - 2001, for you wine snobs–you know who you are–and it was superlative wine that left me feeling warm and relaxed and not squiffy in the least.

We talked of many things–how we met and when we realised, quite early on that we were in love. Our lives and future, what we wanted to do and how we could make things even better for the future. Mind you, I did most of the talking as Abby seemed to be a bit preoccupied, but when in the mood, I can talk for two so I didn’t pay much attention to the fact that she was somewhat distracted.

Then, in a pause in the one sided conversation, Abby fished about in her bag and produced a small red leather-bound box. She gazed into my eyes and smiled rather shyly, I thought and then pushed it across the table.

I looked at the box but didn’t touch it. My heart had suddenly decided to dance the tango.

‘Open it, please,’ her voice sounded strangely strained.

I wondered if it was––

I thought that it might be––

Could it?

With slightly shaking hands I opened the box.

Inside was a lovely ring with a small but bright diamond, its fire glittering at me in the light of the candle.

In the background, I sensed that someone had come up behind me and I could hear the quiet sounds of someone playing something mushy on the violin.

‘Samantha, will you marry me?’

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.