“Stella, what about Stella?” I asked urgently, he had worried me.

“She can come home for a weekend.”

“Oh, that is great. You had me worried for a moment.”

“Worried? Why?”

“I thought you were going to say something awful had happened to her.”

“No, as far as I know she’s fine. Anyway, she’s coming home next weekend, I’ll collect her on Friday evening and take her back on Sunday evening.”

“Okay, am I invited?” I wasn’t sure, although if I wasn’t why was he telling me?

“I suppose we could allow it. Actually she’s been home for the odd day with Dad and Monica and is coping quite well.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one who took her in again, will she resent me being here?”

“I’ve asked her that, she says she can see how ill she was and that you saved her life again. She loves you and wants to see her sister again.”

“So why have they blocked me calling her or emailing her?”

“They have with everyone except Dad and me, and we have to check she’s in the right mood to speak to us.”

“Oh, is she well enough to come home then?”

“I think it’s a bit like a reward system, if she behaves she can have a normal weekend in a designer straitjacket.”

“That’s a bit cruel, Simon. If you’d undergone half of what she has in recent months, you’d be depressed as well.”

“Depression, she was verging on psychosis.”

“That’s very cruel, Simon. She was suffering from post traumatic shock,” I chided him.

“Oh come off it, Cathy, she didn’t know which way was up.”

“Simon, that is horrid of you. She was badly shocked, that’s all. Let’s face it, if you’d been killed, I’d have been so upset that I’m not sure I’d have been compos mentis.”

“You wouldn’t have been a compost heap?” He threw back at me.

“Simon, this is not funny, this is your sister we’re talking about.”

“I know, but if I don’t laugh I’ll be as crazy as she is.” He shrugged and walked away. I presumed that was the end of the discussion, I wasn’t sure what I felt about it–disappointment, I think. He could be so understanding and sympathetic when the mood took him. At the same time, I was judging him without knowing what was going on in his world, I saw him so rarely these days.

I went back to the house with my next load of stuff, and Tom helped me with it, then gave me a hug, “It’s so good to have my girl back again,” he said and hugged me again.

“Thanks, Tom, it’s good to be back.” I kissed him on the cheek and he blushed.

Simon walked past us, he looked as if he was going to say something then changed his mind. I was rather glad if his recent remarks were anything to go by. Tom helped me unload the car and I was able to lock it up again. I’d brought just one bike with me, leaving the other in Bristol. I wondered if Simon might like Des’ bike, when everything was sorted. There was plenty of time to ask him.

I cooked us a meal that evening and Simon was strangely quiet. Tom went off to his study to finish some work, although I suspect, he was working on a single malt, and that he had decamped to leave Simon and me in peace.

“Okay, Bigboy, what’s wrong?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“There is something bugging you and I’d like you to share it with me.”

“Who said there was something bugging me?”

“I did, and so does your body language.”

“Oh, it’s just work.”

“You can tell me, you know. I won’t tell anyone else, promise.”

“The bank’s in trouble.”

“Like going bust trouble?”

“No, it shouldn’t do that, but we’ve been caught by the mess in the States and the bank we took over, High Street, they had some debts we didn’t know about.”

“Shouldn’t they have told you all that?”

“We’re thinking of suing the previous board. If it happens, it will be one of the biggest cases in history, the settlement will be in billions.”

“If you win.”

“Oh we will, our counsel is sure of that.”

“So, my little, Simon, is sad?”

“Tired more than anything, I have been working sixteen hour days for weeks, trying to keep us afloat in the investment side of things. It’s harder than ever and I feel ready to chuck it all and walk off into the sunset.”

“Shouldn’t you ride off into the sunset?”

“Have you seen the cost of keeping a horse?”

“No, silly, I meant on a bike, with your favourite girl.”

“Nah, she can’t ride a bike.”

I stroked his arm, then looked at him, “Who can’t ride a bike?”

“My favourite girl.”

“Why is that?”

“ ‘Cos I’m gonna whip her up to bed and make mad passionate love to her for hour after hour.”

“I thought you were tired?”

“Yeah, I am, tired of waiting to whip you off to bed.”

“I have to do the dishes first.”

“Can’t Tom do them?”

“He would probably say the same about you.”

“I’m conserving my energy, for later on.”

“Like usual, a quick bonk, a fart and then you fall asleep.”

“I don’t always..”

“Fall asleep? You usually do.”

“M’lud, the prosecution counsel is implying generalisations, I move that it be stricken from the record on the grounds of defamation of character.”

“You can’t defame anyone in a court of law.”

“Oh, quite right. Erm, on grounds that she should be washing the dishes while I conserve my energy.”

“Of course, I might just be too tired to do very much after I’ve washed up…”

“On second thoughts, maybe I’d better play the gentleman and help you.”

“Oh, Simon, how sweet of you, rinse them off and shove them in the dishwasher, and I’ll go and clear the table.

As I cleared the table I could hear him talking to himself, “To the woods, to the woods fair damson. But a damson is a thing in a jam! You’re not out of the woods yet!” He laughed at this ancient and corny joke, but he did do the dishes–sort of.