Men who Look After Women

Buckinghamshire, Christmas 1914

It was the noises that had changed  the   most. The early morning sounds that had always been there, comforting him from the moment he opened his eyes.

Henry's father, Archie, would often be whistling 'You made me love you, I didn't want to do it' and his mother Elizabeth would laugh and reply 'Oh yes you did'. Then Henry would wait for the sound of his father stamping his feet outside the backdoor and the coal scuttle being refilled. Sometimes he'd sing up the stairs to him his favourite song 'daddy has a sweetheart and mother is her name.'
He might hear his sister Joan singing 'When Irish eyes are smiling' and then asking their mother to help her take out the strips of rags that gave her golden blonde hair curly ringlets that would sway and gleam in the sunshine and guarantee that young Monty from the next village would keep calling on her.

On Sundays Joan and Monty had been allowed to have the front room all to themselves while Henry played in the back room with his baby sister, Mary. Sometimes they would all go along to the Rye where his father would be playing cricket and his mother in charge of the teas.  Henry would entertain the baby and pull funny faces or make clicking sounds with his mouth, he was always rewarded with giggles and smiles and the baby would clap her fat hands together in delight, gazing at him in adoration.

On cold winter mornings like this, Henry used to love listening to the hiss and spit of the fire. He knew his mother would be warming their clothes on the fire guard.
He used to like to wake up and then lie in the warmth of his bed, relishing that moment before his father called up the stairs that breakfast was ready.
His mother always insisted everything was warm and dry because of the TB. For a long time Henry had thought TB meant Two Babies because all the people they knew with TB had two babies, but then Jimmy- next- door had said that was nonsense, that you got two babies if you spent a lot of time in the front room with a girl or you took her up the Common.

Last Christmas, they'd all gone up the Common to collect holly with bright red berries and ivy. Henry's  father had carried him high up on his shoulders and Henry  had reached out to touch the tall beech trees. He loved those trees. Bright fresh green in the springtime making the carpet of bluebells shine bright and look like the sea, golden brown in the Autumn and with the sun shining through, his mother would dance and call out that it was like being in a cathedral. In the winter you could see right across to the forest where the trees never lost their leaves and run about in the bracken and make a den.
This year they couldn't go to the Common. Jimmy- next -door told him that he'd tried to go up there with Dorothy Price and a man in a uniform had shouted at him to go away. He said that there were men there practicing how to save England.

Henry stretched his legs out in the warmth of his bed and thought about his secret. A funny feeling came over him when he thought of how happy his mother would be, and Joan. The baby was always happy so that was good.
He knew his father wasn't coming back for Christmas. A card had arrived and his mother had wept while she was reading it and then gone into the front room for a long time.


Everything was different now. He couldn't hear his father whistle or his mother sing. His sister came down with her hair matted and flat, and his mother always had red swollen eyes.

Monty had been called to go and save England. 

Jimmy's brother had gone and was already missing. 

Jimmy's father couldn't go because he fell down outside 'The Hour Glass' and hit his head and now he couldn't speak.

Henry's father had said he wasn't going to wait for the married men to be called and decided to go to save England.
No-one else in the family could go.

Uncle Jack had flat feet and couldn't march.

Uncle John had lost an eye in the factory where he worked and Uncle Harold had TB and a terrible cough. 

Henry's father was big and strong and could pick him up together with the baby and even  Joan although she squealed and wriggled and  made them all wobble.  Henry knew that if anyone could save England it was his father. If only he was older, Henry would have gone too, but his father said he was needed to look after his mother and his sisters.

Jimmy- next -door said he was going to go and save England after Christmas. He was going to teach them all a lesson for losing his brother.

Henry's father had promised to be back by Christmas but today was Christmas Day and there was no sign of him.

Henry had a secret and he hugged himself with the thrill of it. He was going to make everything alright again. He wanted to hear his mother singing and his sister tossing her curls and laughing.

When Henry's mother had come to tuck him in last night he'd flinched when she stroked his cheek. Her hands had always been so soft and now they were rough and hard from all the washing she did for the people in the big houses across the Rye.  He'd seen the hurt in her eyes and quickly kissed her hand all over so she'd think he hadn't noticed.  Often, if he woke in the night, he could hear Joan making kisses noises and knew that she was clutching the photo of Monty in his uniform.


Last year at Christmas, their house had been full of warmth from the fire and the delicious smells of the roasting of the goose that the man from the factory had given them. They'd all had presents wrapped in shiny paper. Henry had had a wooden train and a ball, Joan a soft blue scarf and the baby a little doll made with all the left over bits and pieces from his mother's work basket. There'd been grandpa with them too. Henry still wanted to cry when he thought about Grandpa and there was a great big ache in his heart that just wouldn't go away. Yet, it was Grandpa that had given him the idea for his secret.

Just after his father had gone off to save England, his mother had called him and Joan into the front room.  Joan burst into tears and put her arms around him. Henry felt sick as he heard his mother tell them that Grandpa had gone away because someone called Jesus had called him.  Henry had looked at his mother and his sister, their faces sad and their eyes full of tears and decided he needed to take charge. He drew himself up tall and puffed out his chest like Jimmy did when he was talking to girls. He blurted out:

'Well he called me once,  but I didn't go.'

He saw the relief in their eyes and was rewarded with their laughter. They were so happy that he wasn't going to go anywhere, he was going to stay with them. They needed him. That's when he'd started his plan.

Whenever he went with his mother to take the washing back to the houses round Rye, the maids in the kitchen would give him biscuits with fancy names like Custard creams, Bourbons and Digestives. He hadn't eaten any of them, he'd kept them all in a secret place. Jimmy- next- door had given him lots of shiny paper from the factory where his mother worked, making postage stamps,and the biscuits were all wrapped up. His crowning glory though, he had done especially for his father, he'd done it for him, so he would be proud of him when he came home.
His mother had given him his grandfather's beautiful, silver, whittling knife saying it was an heirloom and very precious. Henry had gone to the bottom of the garden where his father kept bits of wood from the factory where he had worked before he'd gone to save England. People would often say how Grandpa and his father could turn a chair leg like no-one else, Henry wasn't sure what that meant except it was good.
Henry used to like holding the shavings in his hand and stroking the pieces of wood that his father brought home. He wanted to be like his father, knowing how to transform pieces of wood. The whittling knife was a sign that was what he should do.

There was a swish as his mother pulled back the curtains and then she leant over to kiss him. He put his arms around her neck as she pulled him out of bed. Neither of them could bring themselves to say Merry Christmas. They could hear Mary making pretty gurgling noises and smiled at each other. Then there was a shout from Joan from downstairs.

'Come and see! Oh how beautiful!! Oh, Henry and Mother come quickly, bring Mary to see!'

Elizabeth quickly helped Henry on with his dressing gown, wrapped the baby in her blanket and carried them both downstairs to see what was causing such excitement in her eldest daughter. She paused, as she did every day, to look out of the landing window at the morning star and to wish that her dear Archie was safe. Her heart ached for him and for how their lives had changed. Their marriage had been full of joy and heartache. They had been blessed with their dear Joan very quickly but had then lost four babies until at last they had been blessed with dear Henry and Mary.

Elizabeth entered the front room where Joan was standing, pointing and smiling in delight. It was the first time she had seen her daughter smile since Monty had left. Then she too stared in amazement. There, in the front window, for all the neighbours to see, was  a huge branch from the Beech woods, propped up on the best table, covered with little parcels of shiny paper, glittering and sparkling in the early morning sun and on the top, a roughly carved wooden angel, her vast wings pointing upwards. Elizabeth put Mary down and turned to look at her son. He was standing by the open door, his little face bright, his eyes full of life, and she saw her Archie there. The essence of her dear husband was there in her son and she knew Archie would always live on.
whatever happened in France. She  must make sure they were all ready and waiting for him when he came home.

She picked Henry up and hugged him hard,

'Oh my little man, you dear little man, you did all this didn't you? Your daddy will be so proud of you.  Just six years old and already a man like your daddy. We're going to have a lovely Christmas and then write and tell your daddy all about it.'

Henry hugged his mother back, really hard. He knew his father would be proud of him now.

Harvesting Hope

1621

The fire crackled and spat as a gust of wind blew in and Edward entered the room. Susanna moved the crib away from the flames, she tucked the coverlet around the baby and kissed him gently on the forehead. He looked so like her dear William with his chubby fists and reddened cheeks, a lump came to her throat and she fought back a tear.
Her smile was bright as she turned to greet Edward,

' How do you fare, my dear? Is there news from the Wampanoag?'

Edward moved towards the fire, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them.

'Squanto has sent a messenger to inform them of our harvest.  All will be good, take heart now. Our luck is but improving.'

He leant towards the pot hanging over the fire and dipped in the ladle. He brought it towards his lips, cooling it with a wave of his hand.

' You must surely be working magic here with your herbs and vegetables, I have never tasted such goodness as this.'

Susanna smiled at him. She sat down to finish her sewing, red breeches for her dear Resolved, just three years old and like the baby, also the image of his deceased father.

'You are good to me Edward, our marriage has given me hope. We have both had such misfortune losing our true loves but now we are together and if we have fortune my little ones will play with our own little ones and we shall be strong.'

Edward had taken a bowl and filled it with the rich pottage, he drained it and sat down beside her.

' It is true, our fortune has betrayed us, but now I will take care of you as my true love.'

He touched her lightly on the shoulder.

'I must go now to prepare the guns. '

Susanna stirred the pottage and then called to Resolved to come and sit with her.
She had still to prepare the corn meal, the cabbage and onions and clean the lobster. As she thought of the feast that was being prepared she allowed herself to feel hope. At last there was a sign that a new life was possible.


Preparing food had always been an important part of Susanna's life. All through her childhood in her North Devon home, Susanna's mother had shown her how to  grow leeks and onions and herbs, how to tenderize  meat and  produce sauces and gravies that had men licking their lips and rubbing their bellies in deep satisfaction. Sometimes she would mutter as she was stirring and tasting and to Susanna she seemed to be working magic.
Her father looked after sheep on the cliffs above the sea and sometimes brought home other shepherds or wayfarers from the coastal road. There was always a meal for a stranger in their home.
When Susanna was just eighteen her father had come home with William, a young preacher who was visiting the local church. 
From then on, William was a frequent visitor and one day asked Susanna to accompany him to the small church on the cliffs. While they were in the church William pulled her to him and put her hand on his heart. He then declared his love for her and asked her to marry him and come away with him to the New World. There was no hesitation as she flung her arms around him and drew him close.

Before leaving for Plymouth where The Mayflower was waiting, Susanna walked along the cliffs with her father. He pointed to the rocks that lay like claws, reaching out into the sea. He told her stories of sailors that would rather perish than be captured by villagers, so ruthless and eager to seize cargo that was worth more to them than a man's life. Susanna paled and her hand leapt to her belly, swollen beneath her gown.

'Oh father, you frighten me, why are you relating such stories?'

Susanna's father grimaced, his head hung low and his voice a whisper,

'My dear daughter,  I cannot follow you now, William will take care of you of this I am certain. We do not know what reception you will find for all the talk of the new country, so be prepared. Remember all your mother has taught you, to distinguish berries and plants, to prepare a meal for your strength. and to be kind.'

 He had then given her a pouch with seeds and shoots, the Devon soil clinging to the roots.

'These herbs are hardy and will grow in any soil.  Plant them in the New World. Remember to use them well, to keep your humours balanced as you have been taught by your mother and she by her mother before her.'

There was a loud bang like thunder and Susanna sat up with a start, Resolved looked at her in alarm and the baby Pip stirred in his sleep. There was a knocking at the door and a voice called out.

' Good morrow Mistress Susanna, pray pardon me, it is I,  Mary , to tell you the news.'

Susanna welcomed her neighbour, clutching at Resolved who was hiding behind her skirts.

'They are firing the guns to call the Wampanoag to our feast, and Massasoit the leader is bringing us deer.'

Susanna clapped her hands and called out, laughing and clasping  Mary's hands

'Huzzah, that is indeed cause to rejoice !'

Halloween Temptations

Life had been good to Geoff.

He often thought that as he stepped through his front door. Starting with his looks, bright blue eyes and dark curly hair, tall dark and handsome. He'd sailed through school and university and landed a fantastic job thanks to his uncle Tom who treated him as a son and made him a partner in his practice. The only thing that Geoff hadn't been good at was having a girl friend. After a few dates they started making excuses and then he would see them wrapped around some other young man, nowhere near as good-looking or successful as him, Geoff couldn't understand it.

Life stepped in and handed him Celia, who was totally besotted with him, she adored him. She wasn't exactly what he'd have chosen, being rather plain, but she had a great figure and her devotion was very reassuring. They were married and had three children without him making any effort at all.

He stopped in front of the hall mirror and ran his fingers through his thick curly hair, checking there were no bald patches and admired the way his blue eyes twinkled back at him. He was about to call out to Celia and then remembered  she was working late for Halloween.  She'd got herself a little job, earning what she called pin money. She said she wanted to give something back to him, she wanted to be able to buy him presents. She had booked them two nights in a hotel with a luxurious spa for the half term weekend.

Geoff flinched when he thought of Caroline's reaction to this. She'd flown off the handle at work and told him it was over. Geoff was surprised to feel relief flood through him. Caroline had been very demanding lately and it had been the ideal opportunity to tell her that maybe it wasn't a good idea to have an affair at work. She should look for another job. Caroline had flounced off telling him where he could put his job.

While the children were younger Celia had been happy looking after them and saying how important it was that she was there when they got home from school. Her job working  in the lunch hour was perfect.

Celia had told him she would bring back some of the Halloween buffet from work and they could have a romantic evening by the fire. The children were on half term. The two boys away at Scout camp and Emma was going to stay with her friend Nathalie.

Geoff could hear laughing and giggling from Emma's room and he marched towards it and flung open the door. There was a loud shriek and Emma slammed the door in his face, 'Dad !!' she called out through giggles, 'You should knock! We're getting ready for the Halloween party.'

Geoff felt himself redden and his heart was beating very fast. How did that happen? How did those little girls have women's bodies? The image of Nathalie in her underwear had shaken him up. He called out to apologize and heard more giggling.

He walked into the kitchen and flicked the switch on the kettle, ignoring the unwashed dishes in the sink and reaching for a clean mug. The local newspaper was spread out on the table and he put his coffee down, leaving a wet stain and spreading crumbs from his chocolate biscuit all over the pages. He started reading an advert for the new local lap Dance place.

The headline said, 'Special Happy hour for Halloween! Let our wonderful witches have their wicked way with you!  All your wishes will come true with one sip of our magic brew!

There was an illustration of some pretty girls dancing round a pole decked with cobwebs and Autumn leaves. Geoff sighed. The episode with Caroline and now the sight of Nathalie had unnerved him, he needed some relaxation and light relief. He looked at his watch. He could go to the Happy Hour and be back in time for Celia.
Geoff had never been to a Lap Dance, he and his friends had had their stag nights doing outward bound courses and climbing mountains. He thought he deserved a treat after all those shocks. Maybe it would work out cheaper than having Caroline and there would be no danger of being caught out. Geoff knew from the men at work that no-one went to Lap dances in their own town, they all went up to the one near the motorway, near the hotels. He called out to Emma to have a good party and he'd help her with her homework tomorrow and set off.

As he entered the lap Dance venue Geoff felt a quiver of excitement. He felt daring and adventurous. The body guards dressed as men- in- black were smart and polite, they called him sir. The girls were dressed in skimpy costumes, with mini cobweb skirts and perky little velvet witch's hats, long gloves and cat's masks to cover their eyes and not much else. Some were dancing on a stage, winding themselves round poles and chanting and blowing kisses. Geoff felt slightly uneasy thinking one of them looked like Nathalie, with the same glossy, chestnut hair. The others were handing round the magic brew on trays and one of them came up to him and beckoned him to join her on a plush velvet couch.

She sat down beside him and slid her hand along his thigh. He felt alarmed but thought it would seem rude to remove it and he relaxed and took a sip of his drink. The girl told him her name was Irina and she wanted to fulfill his desires. He turned towards her and then let himself be lead away towards a secluded part of the room. They were just about to enter the Private booth when another couple came out of the one next to it. The man looked very happy and smiled at the wicked witch as she showed him where to pay. Geoff gasped and felt faint. It couldn't be? Underneath the cat's mask there was no doubt it was her. He felt sick. He was aware of a loud crack and a thump.

The doctor bending over him was shining a torch into his eyes. He called out, 'Nurse he's awake, he's all yours now. Tell him to take it easy for a few days and come and get the stitches out next week.'

Geoff felt as though his head would burst, the pain was terrible. He tried to move his arms and legs and then gently touched his head. There was a thick bandage. The nurse came up and smiled him.

'No harm done, you've had all the tests. You'll just have a bit of a bald patch because we had to shave your hair for the stitches. We had to keep you in overnight so I'm sorry you've missed Halloween. Your wife's coming to get you now.'

Did he imagine the burst of giggles from the Nurses' station? He felt numb and very shaken.

Geoff sat at the kitchen table drinking a strong cup of tea. Celia was busy washing up and had her back to him. The local paper was on the table. He glanced at the headline and froze.

Local Solicitor starts fight in Lap Dance club when he sees his WIFE walk out of a private booth.

There was a thump and a thud as Geoff landed on the floor.

The Locked Room

It had been along time since Jackie had driven her father's car and she lurched to a halt outside the front door narrowly missing the pillar entwined with honeysuckle. She still thought of it as his car No sooner had he been buried than her brother Mike and his wife Sue and re-named it the grey car.
Jackie grabbed the keys and her bag of shopping and with her head bent down against the driving rain she fumbled with her key in the lock. She through the door open and slammed it behind her, shaking the drops from her hair.
Then she stood tall and breathed slowly. As the familiar smell of home washed over her she became in turn a school girl calling out that she was home and looking forward to tea and television, a teenager seeking comfort from her mother after a break up with a boyfriend, a student coming home and needing a reassuring welcome, and then for years a sort of exile who had gone to live in Australia and was always trying to fit in again, to pretend that she belonged.
The house was empty now, the removal van had taken away most of the furniture. There was just one more room to sort out, her father's study. Since he had passed on ten years ago her mother had had a continuous supple of live-in carers, so her brother had put anything personal in the study and put a padlock on the door.
Jackie sighed. She didn't understand her brother any more. She had repeatedly asked him if they could go round the house together. She had imagined them sharing a cup of tea or a glass of something stronger and re-living fond memories, giggling over childhood mementoes and feeling united by their love for their parents. On her visits home he had never found time to be alone with her, on the rare occasions when he would accompany her to the airport he

The Locked Room

It had been along time since Jackie had driven her father's car and she lurched to a halt outside the front door narrowly missing the pillar entwined with honeysuckle. She still thought of it as his car No sooner had he been buried than her brother Mike and his wife Sue and re-named it the grey car.
Jackie grabbed the keys and her bag of shopping and with her head bent down against the driving rain she fumbled with her key in the lock. She through the door open and slammed it behind her, shaking the drops from her hair.
Then she stood tall and breathed slowly. As the familiar smell of home washed over her she became in turn a school girl calling out that she was home and looking forward to tea and television, a teenager seeking comfort from her mother after a break up with a boyfriend, a student coming home and needing a reassuring welcome, and then for years a sort of exile who had gone to live in Australia and was always trying to fit in again, to pretend that she belonged.
The house was empty now, the removal van had taken away most of the furniture. There was just one more room to sort out, her father's study. Since he had passed on ten years ago her mother had had a continuous supple of live-in carers, so her brother had put anything personal in the study and put a padlock on the door.
Jackie sighed. She didn't understand her brother any more. She had repeatedly asked him if they could go round the house together. She had imagined them sharing a cup of tea or a glass of something stronger and re-living fond memories, giggling over childhood mementoes and feeling united by their love for their parents. On her visits home he had never found time to be alone with her, on the rare occasions when he would accompany her to the airport he

Rediscovering sensations on Elba

With one deft movement Alessandro parked the mini bus between a row of oleander bushes and a tall chestnut tree. He pointed towards the beach and waited for the gasps of admiration and delight  that he knew would come from his captive audience of tourists as they took in the sight of the soft white sand and turquoise sea. He never ceased to take pleasure in the enthusiastic reactions to his island home and stood up to smile at them all, opening the door and telling them to be back in two hours.

Alessandro held out his hand to help the English family down the steps. The woman, Penny, was looking very hot and her ample flesh bursting out of her tight sundress was a dangerous shade of red. Her blonde hair was frizzy and unkempt and her mascara was smudged around her eyes. She turned and gave him a smile of great sweetness and when she thanked him,  he was struck by  the kindness in her eyes. Alessandro's father would probably have given her a discreet pinch on her bottom and sent her on her way with renewed faith in her feminine attributes, but that sort of thing wasn't allowed any more.

Her husband Paul waved away Alessandro's offer with an impatient swipe and stuffed his phone in his pocket with a furtive glance. The son Ben, stumbled after his parents and walked behind them with his eyes down.

Alessandro sighed and looked across to the beach café. He could see Silvia, his girlfriend handing out ice creams, her generous curves enticing the fathers to buy two large scoops of coffee and vanilla ice creams and hurry off licking at the cornets as they raced across the hot sand back to their families. She beckoned him over and served him his favourite iced coffee.

'You're late today Ale! I've missed you. When you've finished come with me across the bay for a Spritz.'

Ale nodded,  sipped his coffee and covered her hand with his.

'This group are really interested in the history of the island and have been asking lots of questions about Napoleon, Maria Countess Walewska, his Polish mistress and why he would ever have wanted to leave such a beautiful island.'

Silvia kissed him and then went back to serve a group of children who had just finished a game of beach volley and Alessandro closed his eyes.


Penny watched the exchange between Alessandro and his beautiful girlfriend, the way they looked at each other and their graceful movements. She was painfully aware of the contrast between the young girl's tanned and supple body and her own, plump and reddened by the sun.  Ben was sitting hunched over his phone, his hat pulled down and his whole body tense and distant. Paul was rolled on to his side and she could tell that he was messaging on his phone again.

Everything seemed to have gone wrong  at once.  She had become middle-aged and frumpy, her husband was always working late, her son had transformed from a cuddly affectionate little boy into a sulky, taciturn teenager and her widowed father had needed constant attention.

An unaccustomed feeling of anger rose within her. She leaned across Paul to peer at his phone. He tried to hide it but she was too quick and grabbed it from him. She read the message, saucy and hinting at a great intimacy. She stood up, screamed and then hurled the phone into the sea, heedless of the stares of the people around her and stalked  off across the beach.

Something about the island had seeped into her, awakening sensations that had become unfamiliar to her. All that talk about Napoleon and the way the island had embraced his flamboyant presence, his beautiful Polish mistress that came to keep him company, his sister and her naked swimming. Then there were perfumes and the legends and the way Alessandro had made them all aware of an atavistic sensuality and appreciation of all that the island offered.

Without realizing it, she had arrived at Paolina's rock. Alessandro had pointed it out from the road. He'd told them how the islanders had been enchanted by Napoleon and his entourage. His favourite sister had been the only one to help him when he was exiled to the island, helping him with money and organizing parties and balls to entertain him. The islanders had been encaptured by Paolina's habit of nude swimming and dedicated this rock to her.

Penny looked down into the clear crystal water. There was no-one around. She took off her sundress and slid down into the water. She sighed in relief as the cool water calmed her sunburn. Her body felt light and free, she twirled around reveling  in the feeling as the water flowed around her. She felt part of something wonderful, she felt like laughing. All her worries flowed out of her into the sea, her legs brushed against each other, her arms floated up and she lay back, aware of all her senses, the gentle lapping of the sea, the cry of the sea birds, the sweet smell of the Mediterranean herbs, the cool softness of the water, the salty tang on her lips, the deep blue of the sky above.
A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see Paul watching her. She beckoned him to join her, like a siren tempting her prey.
She watched as he undressed without turning away and as he swam up to her she saw desire in his eyes. She put her arms round his neck, her heart beat fast. She didn't know if she would be able to forgive him, or if he even wanted her any more, but she would enjoy this moment and keep it close to her to help make her strong again.

Ben carried on texting on his phone without looking up as his mother stormed off and then his father followed. He shook his head. His family seemed to have fallen apart. They used to have such great holidays together, building dams and fishing in the lake District and Cornwall, making sandcastles, building fires on the beach. It was his mother's idea to come to Elba. She said she wanted to celebrate his GCSEs. There wasn't much to celebrate, he hadn't done well at all, just scraping enough to get into the Sixth form. Ben knew he could have done better. His phone pinged, another text from Will Fowler. He had failed his GCSEs and wanted Ben to leave school like him. He also wanted Ben to help him with his deals. Will had started to shoplift and  found other ways to make easy money and was trying to get Ben to help him.

On the tour of the island Alessandro had shown them the prison at Porto Azzurro. He had looked straight at Ben as he told them the origin of the name of the little hill top town called Capoliveri. Alessandro had explained it came from Latin words caput (head, or perhaps cheif place) and liber (free). He'd talked about Romans and Etruscans, slaves and prisoners.  He took them to an old mine and gave them a hammer to extract some iron ore from the earth. Against his will Ben had found himself listening intently, riveted by Alessandro's story-telling that brought the history of the island to life. He mentioned freedom again and again. When he stopped he invited the group to breathe in deeply, to smell the pines and the herbs, to look at the great expanse of sky and feel the warm sun on their faces. Then he told them to close their eyes and imagine being in a cell, locked in with a key.
Ben had shuddered with fear and then opened his eyes in alarm.

Now sitting on the beach he watched his parents return, holding hands and his mother giggling like she used to. He stood up and walked towards them

'Would you two like an ice cream before we get back on the bus, I've got some money from Grandpa left?'

His father slapped him on the back, then drew him towards him, putting his arms round the three of them, he laughed.

'Why thank you Ben! Coffee and vanilla for me please!'

When everyone was settled back on the mini bus Alessandro clapped his hands to get their attention. He could see the English family sitting together, smiling and looking at him with interest. They looked different, lighter and happier.
He had one more story to tell them on the way back to the hotel.

'Many of you have asked me why Napoleon would want to have left this beautiful island. Well, legend has it that when Napoleon arrived at Waterloo he was asked that question and his famous answer was, 'I'd run out of beer.'

The men laughed and the women rolled their eyes, they could all relate to that.
Alessandro proceeded to tell them the legend of Napoleon's beer. His sister Paolina made it for him specially, gathering malt and hops and adding honey made on the island. He grinned as he told them about the bee stings on Paolina's bottom and was pleased to see Penny blush and Paul give her a squeeze.

He stopped the minibus at a shop near the hotel where they could buy Napoleon's beer to take home and drink with their friends and tell the legends of his island home.

Echoes through the years

The first thing that Caterina was aware of when she opened her eyes was the silence.
A feeling of fear crept over her.  Last night she had gone to bed so happy.
It was the first day of the school holidays and the whole summer stretched ahead.
 Caterina loved the summer months when she would wake to the sound of the sea and the concert given by the cicale outside her window.
She had told her little brother, four year old Tommaso, the story of the grasshopper and the ant, the day before, while her mother, Brenda, was busy working in her study, and he had looked at her with wide eyes asking why the ant would have been so selfish not to have shared his food in the winter. She had hugged him, as always thrilled by his loving and caring personality, so like their father.
Her father, Giulio would usually bring her a cup of espresso before he left for work now that she was fifteen, but he had gone to Palermo to help with the immigration situation. He was a human rights lawyer and quite dedicated to his work. He always told her that to understand his country it was necessary to study its law. Caterina's mother was English and taught at the local university.

Caterina's bedroom was in darkness but she could see from the luminous hands of the clock that it was past 10am. As she sat up and reached out for the handle of the shutters there was a blood curdling scream. She sat frozen with fear, her heart beating fast and listened. She could hear loud sobbing and her mother calling out for help. She seemed to be begging for mercy. In answer, there was a loud mirthless laugh and a man's voice shouted out, the words slurred as though he had been drinking. They were both speaking in English.

'You'll never see Katie again and as for that little horror Tommy that you idolize so much, see what I do to him.'

Loud screams followed and her mother calling out, 'Please Rex, don't, please!'

There was a thump and her little brother crying out.

Caterina walked towards the door, holding her breath, she turned the handle and peered out. She was dazzled by the bright sunlight that streamed along the corridor. She could hear her mother singing, the endless stream of English nursery rhymes that she was convinced would make her little brother bilingual. She went towards the kitchen door. Her mother was sorting out basil leaves to make her father's favourite pasta dish of pesto, green beans and potatoes. Her little brother was busy with uncooked pasta shapes and string.

He called out when he saw her at the door,

'I'm making you a necklace Cate, you are princess!'

Her mother looked up and smiled at her and then gasped.

'Caterina what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost! Come and sit down and I'll make you some coffee. Hooray, hooray, Papà will be back today !'

Caterina sat down next to  Tommaso and took the cup of coffee. As the strong sweet liquid slid down her throat she looked across at her mother's back bent over the stove.

'Mamma, do you know anyone called Rex?'

She saw her mother stand up straight, her back rigid and a stillness creep over the kitchen. There was a chill in the air. Her voice was low and Caterina had to strain to listen.

'Yes I did know a Rex once, we were going to get married but my father didn't approve of him and I always trusted grandpa Joe.'

Brenda carried on crushing the garlic and pine nuts for the pesto, feeling as always gratitude towards her mother-in-law, Amelia who had taught her so much, recipes to comfort her husband through the years, and a graceful and elegant yet frugal way of living.

She shivered as she thought of Rex, of the violence in him that her father had perceived.  She could no longer deny that Caterina had inherited her own father's ability to feel sensations from other lives and times. Brenda knew this trait could be a mixed blessing.

She turned round and looked straight at Caterina,

'Our lives are fragile and precious Caterina, and we often have to trust those who love us when we have important choices to make.'

Tommaso broke the tension by holding up the pasta necklace and hanging it round Caterina's neck with a flourish. She smiled at him and pulled him onto her knee. She sat there enjoying the warm softness of his little body, staring at the vibrant flowers on the terrace, the purple bougainville, the baby blue plumbago, the stunning orange hibiscus, the bright red geraniums trailing over the pots, butterflies were dancing over them all, a lizard scuttled away behind one of the terracotta pots, a bee wound its way around the lavender.

She raised her gaze above the garden to take in the view of the mountains above her home. 

She heard the shouts of the men working with Michelangelo as he personally chose the marble that he would transform into the magnificent statue of David, the screams of agony from the people trapped inside the church at St Anna, the women weeping as their sons left for distant lands, but then she felt a hand caress her cheek and a whisper full of warmth and love and she knew Grandpa Joe was near.

Her heart lifted at the thought of her father coming home, of her mother preparing his favourite meal. She picked up her little brother,

'Come on let's blow up your paddling pool.'

Moaning Minnie's Dail Rant, happiness and pain

Today I 'm going to pause awhile in my moaning, which is I must say, very cathartic. That word 'cathartic' always makes me smile, because once in double English when I was in the third year, the teacher said that word and my friend Catherine thought she said 'Who's farted?' and couldn't stop laughing, so she got sent out of the door.
usually it was me that got sent out the door, but I knew what 'cathartic' meant cos my dad often said it, usually when he was talking about my uncle Jim, who'd had three wives and no-one really knew why, because they all seemed to want to hang on to him, but that's a long story.
Uncle Jim has a new companion at the moment. He met her on a website called 'Lots of fish in the sea' or something. He'd put 'no strings attached' which wasn't strictly true because he is still married to his third wife, just she's gone a bit nutty and he feels sorry for her.
But I digress, I wanted to talk about the life lessons that can be learned from things going wrong as you gaily trip along life's road. Things and people I might add, people like Dreadful D. I mean how times do you hear people say 'It's not what happens to you, it's the way you deal with it'? That sort of thing. It's the modern way isn't it? It's always you that has to put things right and put on a brave face. Well actually me, not you, because this is all about me.

Anyway I've been reading 'The Little Prince' by Saint Exupèry and at first glance it seems like it is a story with a happy, joyful, naive look at life. While reading it I was struck by the fact that even though this intensely sunny outlook on life remains throughout the book it develops and becomes more complex, mature and real. It unites pain and happiness in the same existence, patience and protest in the same expressions, it helps you understand that the darkest night and the lightest laugh are sewn together with the same thread. These are lessons that lead you to an understanding of the profundity of life.

So from now on with my daily rants there will be a life lesson from Minnie too.


There is no sunshine without rain
No happiness without some pain
I know it's true
And so do you
Just love me and I'll do the same.

Thoughts on EU

Everybody knows that Great Britain or The United Kingdom has voted to leave the EU .
Now I'm English one hundred per cent and I love England deeply and always will. It's a part of me. I wasn't allowed to vote in the referendum because I've lived outside the UK for more than fifteen years. Fair enough you may say. I moved abroad for love, surely one of the best reasons.
I grew up in an England that was proud and happy to be part of the United Kingdom, I thought we were all happy to be together, England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales.
I grew up in a land of free milk at school, polio jabs, free dentists, free opticians, horrible free national Health spectacles,child allowance paid directly to my mum, heating allowances, government grants to build a bathroom if you hadn't got one, waving at the Queen as she rode past in a limousine, going up to London for the day on the train, going to the cinema as a special treat to see James Bond, Mary Poppins, the Black and White minstrels, BBC comedy, Listen with Mother, children's hour, Tizer, Saturday morning at the pictures, and on and on.

Near our house there was a housing estate with small pre- fabricated houses for refugees from London and Easter Europe, they had exotic names ending in ski or ov. They were happy to be there, they felt safe, away from the horrors they had seen.
The shadow of the wars hung over us. My dad had spent his youth in the Middle East mending RAF planes. He hated war, he hated the people that had sent all those young men to war. They had stolen his youth, he saw no pride in war. My mother saw no glory in her brother presumed missing who never came back.
We went to France on holiday. My mother had a French friend that had stayed in England during the war because she had an English grandfather. We went to stay with them. They took us to see the battle fields of Northern France. We were saddened and sombre. We kissed and hugged each other. We were friends.

My dad took us camping in Europe. He loved Europe. We went on holiday touring Europe. He delighted in following sign posts to Paris, Brussels, Bern, Innsbruck. We went to campsites and  sat around with Germans drinking and saying prost. My dad thought it was wonderful We were all friends.
In 1966 we won the World Cup, I can still remember the excitement and the fun, the names of the players, Bobbie Moore, Bobbie Charlton, Geoff Hurst, Gordon banks. We went on holiday straight after, on the ferry across the channel we chatted to the dejected German fans, we felt a bit sorry for the, it had been a close victory, but it had been at Wembley on English soil and it meant a lot to us.

The years go by and I start to realize that the Scots and the Irish don't quite like us as much as I like them. For the Scots it seems to be about the Cheviots, the stag and the black, black oil. The Irish have good reason, History shows us that. The Irish situation is a black cloud hanging over Britain, something to be ashamed of. My time spent studying in London is marred by bomb scares, but no-one in power seems to know what to do.

We join the Common Market. My dad believed in Free Trade so he thought free movement of people was a good idea too. He worked hard, he was a self made man. He had great respect for women and their role in keeping a family together.  He hated war more and more, wanted to tear down all the generals stuck up on their plinths. He said peace was fragile, the United Kingdom was fragile. Joining the Common Market could keep us together. He thought it was wonderful that the French, the Dutch and the Belgians had joined forces with the Germans.
My Mum always said that united we stand, that my dad had fought so my brother would never have to go to war. We must stick together, as a family, as a country, as a continent, as the world.

Never once was peace made an issue of the decision to remain or leave.
We must respect the vote, it was a democratic vote, from a country that values freedom.
What we must hope for now is that the EU will become stronger, that the people in power will try and keep it together.

My Italian father- in- law admired Britain, it's democracy, it's values. He loved Europe, he knew what war in Europe was like and he didn't want it again.

Europe is a beautiful continent. In a short distance you can travel from mountains to lakes to beautiful coastlines. The young people of Europe are happy to live and work in each other's countries, broadening and opening their minds to other ways of doing things. They come home again enriched.

Italians have got to know the British better in recent years, they love their sense of humour, their reliability. Many highly qualified Italians work in important research in Britain, in highly skilled jobs. For a country of immigrants used to being sent down mines this is a magnificent achievement.

Italians are saddened by the Leave vote but they respect it, after all it's democracy. 

Let us hope now though that it is the start of a stronger and more united EU. That would be the best for all of us.

Let us hope that the United Kingdom does not disintegrate, that would leave England vulnerable and fragile. 

Good luck to all.

Moaning Minnie's Daily Rant, Eleanor Rossevelt quote

I don't know much about Eleanor Roosevelt
 but I know she said that if anyone makes you feel inferior then it's your fault, because it often pops up in book covers and in little books about aphorisms and clever comments that are meant to make your life easier. I think that's quite a good one actually, but you can't apply it to much else. you can't really say that if anyone hurts you then it's your fault can you?

Moaning Minnie's daily Rant, Phone call etiquette

You know that expression, Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth'? Yes well that is very appropriate for Dreadful D and Perfect Pete. believe me, people who don't use their conscience are very dangerous, they are able to turn the page and carry on as though nothing has happened because they don't hurt inside see.
Now today I was thinking about Perfect Pete and thinking that he has been hurting me since I was eight years old.  He hurts me still..
He's very good at sending text messages that put the ball in my court all the time. He says let me know when you are free. Well the point is, that it's him that is never free, he can only speak to me from his office, because Dreadful D has a phone phobia. He told me that when the phone rings she goes into a panic, she has the screaming habdabs, it doesn't matter who it is, she can't cope with the phone. Do you believe that? Neither do I.
Now Dreadful D and Perfect Pete have masses of friends, and the friends insisted that they had an answer phone put it, because the friends want to be able to invite them to all their events, parties, balls, dinners, whatever. Well they what do is if the phone rings and they are sitting there they just let the answer machine answer so everyone in the room hears the poor person that rung them sort of pleading like 'would you like to come to dinner, to Pilates, to the book club, to whatever.?' everyone hears them. Well I think that's rude so I don't ever leave messages on their phone. Also their phone has a caller ID and so you know that they know it's you ringing and they might just be sitting there letting you ramble on to their machine.
So it's texts and emails and that's it. But they take ages to reply so I've just dried up and lost my enthusiasm, but that's where they're clever see, because they now say it's me that doesn't answer.

Moaning Minnies Daily Rant, The Unopened Letter

The tone of a person's voice has always been very important for me. It's not what you say, it's the way you say it, that sort of thing.
My name isn't really Minnie, it's Margaret, and whenever someone calls me Margaret I feel a bit afraid, which is daft isn't it, because Margaret is my name. My best friend Penny says the same. Her name's Penelope but never in her life has anyone called her that, except her ex-husband, but that's a long story.
Anyway some things can be said in any tone of voice and the meaning is clear, I like pizza, the sun is shining, even I love you can be uttered through gritted teeth and still be acceptable. When you put kindness in your voice though, or even better, love, then everyone feels better.
Winnie-the-Pooh fans might remember the bit when Winnie overdoes it eating homey, big time, and he gets stuck in Rabbit's warren. When Christopher Robin arrives on the scene and looks at Winnie and says, 'Silly old bear,', everyone feels hopeful again. All because of his tone of voice.
Now Dreadful D said something that without any love or kindness in her voice, made it sound so awful, that something broke in me. Now she is Perfect Pete's OH, so although she made me feel let's say uncomfortable, I did all those things that come sort of naturally to me, like, if there is not love put love and then there will be love, if you want to have a friend be a friend, all those things. I did this for years and years and we jogged along, then for the last two years something went wrong, Perfect Pete said it wasn't me, but there we are, maybe it was all a bit beyond him too.
So I wrote them a letter telling them how much I cared for them, how much I'd like things to be easier and friendlier. Well you'll never believe it but they didn't even open it, just handed it back to me and told me to read it. Then Dreadful D said these words,
'I've told him (PP) that if I hadn't married him then I wouldn't have had his family.'
The tone of voice was not of the sort with kindness and love, and all that is left of his family, is me, because Dreadful D even reminded me that my parents were no longer on this earth.
Now all those years of putting Perfect Pete and Dreadful D first and one day Mum even asked her why she had come to live next door if she didn't like Margaret?, yes even my Mum called me Margaret when she wanted to seem serious, and Dreadful D went off in a huff.

Now if I didn't know me I'd probably be thinking, well Margaret must have done something wrong. Well I've racked my brains, I looked it up in case you're wondering, you can rack or wrack your brains, the same thing. At the moment all that I can come up with is that I am Perfect Pete's sister, but now as having his family seems to be what was stopping them from having Perfect happiness, that won't be a problem any more.


Life Lesson for today:-
If you give someone a letter and they tell you they want to discuss it, make sure they have actually read it before you invite them round.

Ps When I asked Perfect Pete why he hadn't read it he said he knew I'd have written nice positive things in it because he knows me and so he was sure it was a nice letter full of kindness, but when I asked him why he hadn't warned me that they hadn't read it, how could they have just sat there eating my food and chatting away without having told me she wouldn't read it so he didn't dare to, well he had no answer. My OH has though and it isn't very complimentary.

Moaning Minnie';s Daily Rant, Light-hearted, superficial, indifference

The other day I told Perfect Pete that I wished I could be more indifferent like him. Would you believe it? He got offended, went off in a huff. So I asked him if he preferred to be described as light- hearted and he said he did.

You see the fact is that for years he and Dreadful D just seem indifferent. If they see me, fine, if they don't see me fine. Whereas I get hurt, feel left out, get upset, all those miserable feelings that cast a shadow over your days.

Well I thought about being light hearted and decided that was even worse than being indifferent, it's sort of the end of the road, whereas indifference could be a cover for some real feelings. 

So we have, light hearted, superficial, indifference, yuk!!

Moaning Minnie';s Daily Rant, What a pity someone has to win

Now here's what happens to me every time I watch a football match, I start off enjoying the singing, the colourful crowds and the way the camera zooms in and when the people realize it's them being filmed they make funny faces and look so happy.

Then I like the anthems and the hopeful and joyful expressions. Then  after the kick off I admire any fancy foot work and clever passes and shots at the goal. Then I think how fit the referee must be to run around all over the place.

Then if one side scores a goal as I watch the euphoria of the fans I start to feel sorry for the other side and if they score a school then their euphoria is even greater because they were losing and now they're not. 

My ideal result for all football matches would be a draw, that would be perfect ,a draw every time.

Angels like Harmony

An angel used to live in Marian Boswell's heart. It had crept inside when Marian was a baby, lured by the sweetnes of Marian's sunny disposition. It had snuggled down among the golden fluffy softness, and kept Marian company as she gurgled her way through babyhood, smiled her way through childhood and grown into a charming young woman. Her parents had been delighted with her, calling her their princess. Everyone she met warmed to her and the angel bounced happily along on puffy, white clouds of good humour, safe in the warmth of Marian's good nature.

All this sweetness and softness attracted many people, hoping to warm themselves by being near to Marian and banish the coldness and hardness from within them.

Marian was working secretary in a large hospital when she met Paul Boswell.

He was an ambitious doctor and decided straight away that Marian was just what he needed and would be better employed as his wife.

It soon became Marian's job to supply all the good humour that was lacking in Paul. 

The angel found that her haven was getting rather cramped and would often try and stretch its' wings to make more room.

Paul and Marian found out that they couldn't have children. Paul threw himself  into his career as a cosmetic surgeon. He discovered that one of his patient's, a voluptuous dark haired beauty, who wanted to be even more voluptuous, could have his children. It was Marian's fault after all.

Marian conceded a divorce, she thoughg it was best for the children and got another job as a secretary in a new hotel. 

She let Paul have the house so the children could run around in the garden and moved into a small flat overlooking the park.

One day the manager at the hotel called her into his office. He cleared his throat and looked out of the window as he told her that they needed someone more personable in the reception area.

That evening Marian looked  at herself in the mirror and tears ran down her face as she cried for the girl she had been.

Her mouth drooped at the corners, her hair was dull and flat. For the first time she felt cheated by life, bitterness crept into her heart.

Her parents, long gone had never put importance on physical appearance, they'd always said it was what you were like inside that mattered.

As she thought of her parents Marian felt a chill of loneliness. She looked out of the window at the park and envy entered her heart as she watched the families eating ice cream and playing ball.

There was a loud bang from the flat next door. There was angry shouting in a language that Marian didn't recognize. A child was crying.

The angel crept out of Marian's heart. Its' wing was bent and it felt uncomfortable, it also smelled a bit funny. It moved onto Marian's shoulder and whispered in her ear.

Marian put her hand up and flicked back her hair. She opened her door and peered round it. There was a man with a scowl on his face trying to fit  the key in the door, a woman bent over a suitcase, its' contents spilling onto the floor, two small children clutching her skirt. They all looked tired and forlorn. The man spoke, aggression and defiance in his voice,

'We have come to live here,' he glared at her in defiance.

The angel fluttered its' wings.

Marian opened the door wider., she smiled and made a sweeping gesture with her arms.

'Come in and I will make you a drink. The little ones can stay with me while you get settled. I could takem down to the park for an ice cream.'

The man hesitated and then his face cleared a little and he gave his wife a gentle push of encouragement. He bowed his head slightly and held out his hand,

'Thank you, that is kind.'

The angel crept back into Marian's heart.

It's easy to get inspiration on a beach like this

What more could you want?

Moaning Minnie's Daily rant, Wear the right shoes

It's holiday time! Not much to moan about when going on holiday, what's not to like.

Ever since I went to Butlins in Clacton- on- Sea I've got excited about holidays. It's just that I'm not very good at packing.

I've read all sorts of articles over the years about capsule wardrobes, scarves that can be used as beach wraps or shawls, packing clothes in only three colours so everything goes with everything but I'm still useless.

So I was thinking today what are the essentials, what do you really need to pack and I thought that it's a bit like life, you need to equip yourself and to get a good nights sleep.

So start off with footwear. Be prepared for any terrain.

A pair of shoes for the journey that look smart but are comfortable.

A pair of sandals for the beach that can get wet and sandy and not get ruined.

A pair of sports shoes for scrambling over rocks and walking cobbled streets.

A pair of high heels just in case.

So there you are ready to go.

After footwear concentrate on what you need for a good nights sleep. Two silk nighties are essential. Silk is good for the skin and will soothe away any sunburn. A

After footwear and night wear pack what you need for personal hygiene, preferably in light plastic packaging, no heavy glass bottles, and don't forget your toothbrush.

A notebook and pen are next, and a good book.

Clothes will depend on the sort of holiday you're going on.

Lastly pack a sense of adventure, a heart full of love and an open mind.

Anywhere you go, any journey you make will have you going home again somehow different, refreshed, recharged,more tolerant and with more to give.

Moaning Minnie's Daily Rant, Learn from the past, plan for the future, enjoy the present

On Facebook I often see posts telling us to forget the past, not to worry about the future and just live for the present. The wording changes but the gist is the same. This morning I got 3 messages like this in some form or other.

Learn from the past, plan for the future,  live for the moment.

Well it can't be quite like that can it? Easier said than done and all that. If it  was so easy people wouldn't keep going on about it.
 

Fact is that our past weighs heavily upon us whether we like it or not.

Fact is that if we were meant to live like that then we wouldn't have a memory and we wouldn't have an imagination. We'd just be blobs, or robots.

So if anyone has hurt you then you can be wary of them so they don't hurt you again, I know quite a bit about that, having struggled with the dreadful D for years.

Have I told you about her? Well I will one day.

Another thing that pops up on Facebook is how we are responsible for our own happiness. Hahaha!! What do you think?

Like the thing about living and enjoying the present, easier said than done.

How much more pleasant our lives might have been without that horrible teacher, unpleasant girl at school, jealous  relative, mean boss. 

But no, it is our reaction that is important isn't it? It's not what happens to us, it's the way we deal with it. Hahaha

I was exhausted before I'd even had my morning coffee. My OH says I shouldn't take it too seriously.

OH means Other half, I'll tell you about him one day too.

That's all for today, I'm off to enjoy the present!!

Moaning Minnie's daily Rant, Believe in Yourself

My brother was older than me and just perfect, handsome face, thick wavy hair, bright blue eyes,polite and easily disciplined, well -groomed and industrious. He was good at everything, brilliant artist, brilliant at school sang beautifully, girls fancied him, other boys liked him, everyone thought he was a saint.
Then they got me, and I got the left overs. Wispy hair that wouldn't go where my mum wanted it too, average looks, eyes the colour of mud, unremarkable in every way, no dress sense, an inappropriate sense of humour, completely tone deaf, totally unadventurous.
You might think I was jealous, well I wasn't, not at all, I was his number one fan, along with my mum and dad.
You might think my mum and dad didn't like me, or love me, or wish they'd just had him, but no not at all. They loved me just as much, they just didn't know what to do with me. I was sort of in the way.
Mediocre looks, mediocre brain, not really good at anything at all. Along with my pathetic list of talents I also lacked any competitive spirit at all. When I saw how much it meant to the others  I just stood back and let them win, not minding at all, happy to watch the smiles of triumph on their faces.

Until now. It's a bit late though because my youth is long gone and my parents too.

Our lives. like History, are a sequence of haphazard events. We are dealt a hand, some are luckier than others, starting with where and when you are born, the family you are given , the looks you are given, the character you are given. Oh yes, that is all down to luck isn't it?

I didn't introduce myself, my name is Minnie. I forgot to say that there was one thing I was always good at, excelled at, and that was moaning. Mum called me 'Moaning Minnie.'
The brother I was talking about was called Peter, mum called him 'Perfect Peter.'

So there we were Perfect Pete and me, growing up together. Mum and dad concentrated so much on him that they forgot about me. It didn't seem to matter at the time. I was always good for a laugh. I'd come home from school singing Rule Britannia at the top of my voice, out of tune and drawing out the 'Britains neeeeeer..' bit and everyone would be holding their side with laughter.
Perfect Pete was in the choir and we'd go and see him sing in concerts. that was when my unfortunate sense of humour became famous. All that slow, solemn, singing, durgy I would call it, the serious faces and the twangy cellos and i couldn't hold in my giggles. there'd be glances of disapproval all around us.
When things got too serious I always got the giggles
I used to have to think of something really sad to stop myself snorting with laughter. that's much easier now, too many sad things now.

As we grew up it was obvious that Perfect Pete would get the pick of the bunch of all the girls. I panicked when I heard there were more women than men in the world. I felt doomed and when Tom Fawley asked me out I didn't hesitate. there I was just fifteen and he had saved me from a life time of loneliness. It didn't matter that I didn't really like his smell or the way he dressed, or his chain smoking and beer breath, he had saved me.
We went out in foursomes with Pete and his latest beauty, always glossy and glamorous with names like Caroline or Rebecca. Tom would always comment on how gorgeous they were and if he could be so lucky.

I was totally in awe of Tom, my saviour from spinsterhood. I did whatever he told me, from what to eat in the pub, to the subjects to take at school.

That's all for today from Moaning Minnie

See you tomorrow.........................................


Life Lesson number 1, think for yourself, believe in yourself, don't just blindly follow what other people tell you to do, or tell you about yourself. Don't let other people put you down, whoever they are.

Wednesday,

Wednesday had always been a brown day for Judie, her least favourite, She preferred Monday which was emerald green, Tuesday pink and bubbly, Thursday burnished gold, Friday buttercup yellow or Saturday brilliant white. When she was a little girl and mentioned how each day had a special colour her mother and brother had looked at her in amazement and said no they didn't see the days as colours.
Later on watching a documentary Judie had learnt that it was condition called Synethesia and not a special gift, just the senses mingling in the brain.

Today was Wednesday and she felt a sense of foreboding. Everything around her was brown, dark murky brown.

Onions make you cry

It was the onions that did it. It always was. Tears streaming down her face, Sally tried to wipe them away with her apron and carry on chopping the onions.

'Are you alright Auntie Sally ?' Joe's voice was full of concern.

'Is it your bad knee? Is it your varicose veins? Is it your hip replacement?'

Sally laughed and smiled at her nephew through her tears. His mother must have drilled him about her ailments.

'No love, it's just the memories that come back to me when I'm peeling onions.'

There was a snort from across the kitchen table. Joe's big sister Ellie was painting her nails with black polish and sticking little skulls on top with one hand and with the other she was tapping away on her phone. She looked up at her auntie, a scowl on her face and when she spoke her voice was full of scorn.

'Yeah Joe, she's sad about losing the competition for the best onion tart in the village fete.'

Sally turned back to the chopping board a heavy feeling of sadness in her heart. What had happened to the sweet little girl so ready to smile and give cuddles?

Her nephew Nick had warned her about Ellie and how difficult she had become. The children were staying with her while Nick and his wife Marie had gone on holiday to save their marriage as he had put it. They had been living in Singapore for ten years and recently moved to London. It seems they both had such high powered jobs that they had lost touch with each other. Nick had begged Sally to have the children, the nanny was on holiday and his own parents, Sally's younger sister and her husband were living in Spain . Ellie was furious at giving up her half term and her city life. She was just fifteen and Nick had said something about her getting in with bad company. Joe was six years younger and when they arrived that morning had burst into tears when his parents left for the airport. Sally had hugged him tight and tried to soothe him. She hadn't seen much of the children over the years and had been looking forward to the chance to get to know them better.

Now they were sitting round the kitchen table, their school books spread in a messy heap, while she prepared the lunch.

'Is that it Auntie Sally? You lost the onion tart competition? ' Joe looked bewildered.

'No darling,' she chuckled, ' it was a journey I went on once, a long time ago, a road trip with a very handsome French young man.'

Ellie put down her phone with a clatter. Her lip curled and her pretty face was full of disdain.

'Where did you go? France?'

Sally had perceived some interest in her niece's voice and went to sit next to her at the table. She leaned forward and looked straight at her,

'We started off in France. I had just finished studying at the university in Paris when I met Jean-Paul at a party. Before the night was over I was so in love with him that I would have followed him to the ends of the Earth. He had a friend that had driven to Australia on a motorbike to a place called Darwin and was helping the people rebuild it after a major earthquake. Jean-Paul asked me if I would go with him and  so I did.'

Joe looked astonished, ' Australia's at the bottom of the world, you can't just drive there. '

Sally told Ellie to open her atlas and look at the route. Surprisingly she obeyed, struggling to hide her eagerness.

Seeing that she had the children's complete attention Sally closed her eyes and returned to the Paris of nearly fifty years ago.
Jean-Paul had done all the organizing. they'd set off one Spring morning, the roof down on their Volkswagen beetle. The road was their home, the small car their protective shell. They had worked their way through France and Italy, in vineyards, restaurants and hotels, selling doughnuts on the beach in France, coconuts in Italy.
By the time they reached the Yugoslav border they felt confident enough to continue to Australia. Their passports and papers were all in order and the border guards waved them through with cheerful smiles.
Driving across Yugoslavia they felt for the first time like strangers travelling through foreign lands. While in France and Italy they had chattered constantly, words tumbling out of their mouths in a quest to find out all they could about each other. The interior of the car seemed to have absorbed their intimacy and felt like a cocoon. Jean-Paul gripped the steering wheel and stared at the road ahead as the scenery changed from familiar Alpine scenery to long straight roads of endless forest. Whenever they stopped for petrol and a meal they were immediately surrounded by locals asking direct questions. They soon picked up a sprinkling of Serbo-Croat and were greeted warmly at each stop. They slept in the car in the light of the petrol stations with the lorry drivers and sat in a circle sharing French Marc and Plum brandy called Slivovica.
Jean-Paul was full of French charm and everyone they met warmed to the young couple. Their notebooks were soon full of addresses and promises to keep in touch.
Once they crossed into Greece they drove all the way across a rather barren and mountainous region to the Turkish border eager to feel the exotic charm of the Orient.

Sally opened her eyes and smiled at the children. They were gazing at her with rapture.

'Find Turkey on the map now Ellie. I loved this country from the start. It was like a magic gateway. It has a foot in Europe and a foot in Asia. Istanbul which used to be the imperial capital controls the straits between the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. Jean-Paul had some friends staying there and had invited us to their hotel. We had our first proper bath and dressed up for a special dinner where we saw the most beautiful girls dancing, it was the first time I had seen belly dancing. The women explained all the special meanings behind the moves, to do with fertility, water and life forces.
We drank special Turkish coffee and the most delicious little cakes, I can taste them now.
The next day though, we were longing to get back on the road. The car had become our refuge and our friend.
We entered Iran and then onto Afghanistan. We passed through wheat fields, sugar plantations, fruit groves, high plateau great mountain ranges. Jean-Paul was an engineer and so we visited various sites where they were building dams to take water to the cities and restoring canals. Here too everyone we met treated us with kindness and curiosity. We had been told to take care crossing from Pakistan to India but when we stopped to show our passports the guards from both sides were all in the same bar, laughing and drinking together. Most of them spoke perfect English. They just waved us through.
When we arrived in India we started having trouble with the car. We got as far as Bombay, now Mumbai and Jean-Paul made enquiries to see if we could get a boat to Australia. After lengthy negotiations and lots of Gauloises, the captain of a cargo ship agreed to take us. They hoisted the car up in a net and gave us a small cabin.
As we set sail and stood on the deck watching the sultry coastline of India it seemed like the end of the road.'

The back door slammed and they all jumped.  A tall, handsome man appeared, holding out his arms.

'Look at you, Joe, haven't you grown, and I would have never recognized this glamorous young lady!'

Joe was the first to recover and ran to him.

'Uncle John,  Auntie Sally's been telling us a story about her driving to Australia with a French man.'

There was a giggle from the table, Auntie Sally stood up to take the Onion Tart out of the oven and then went to join in the hug.

'Oh Joe, Uncle John is the French man, ' she squeezed her nephew and ruffled his hair.

'Mais, oui, c'est moi' John beamed around him and winked at Ellie, who started to smile but then stiffened, put on her usual scowl. and mumbled,
'Well why haven't you got a French accent, and anyway I still don't see what onions have got to do with driving round the world.'

John pulled up a chair and gave a Gallic shrug,

'You cannot spend all that time in a car with a romantic English girl and not lose your accent. As for the onions, the boat that took us to Australia from India was chock a block full of onions, they were rolling around all over the place and we kept finding them in the car for months afterwards.'

Sally laughed, a loud and joyous sound that made even Ellie smile,

'And that is why I often make onion tart, to remind us of our youth and our road trip and bring back all the wonderful, happy memories.'

The Cluedo Stories, Marie and Hugo

The rain was beating hard against the windscreen and Hugo slowed down to read the signs to turn off the motorway.
Marie shivered as the darkness of the country lanes closed around them. She had never liked being away from the city lights and felt a sense of unease. There was just the noise of the  torrential rain  and the wipers moving very faster.

A sudden clap of thunder made her jump and she put her hand on Hugo's arm. He was hunched over the steering wheel, a frown of concentration on his  face, but he smiled at her touch.

'We're nearly there darling. I am so looking forward to introducing you to everyone. They're going to adore you.'

Marie squeezed his arm and then relaxed back into the seat. She held up her left hand and smiled at the sparkling diamond on her finger, turning it to catch the light.

'Your mother's ring is beautiful. I do so hope I will be worthy of it. She must have been a very special woman to have brought up such an amazing son. I love you so much Hugo'

Her voice was full of desire and she heard him catch his breath.

' I know my mother would have loved you, I wish she could have met you.'

Marie squeezed his arm being careful not to distract him from the driving. The eerie darkness was beginning to unnerve her. She was quite nervous about meeting Hugo's family. They had met only six months before when she was doing an internship for a leading daily newspaper. Hugo was chief correspondent and considered to be one of the major voices in British print media. He had taken her under his wing from the first day and after working on a story together her respect and admiration had blossomed into a deep and lasting passion. It turned out to be mutual and Hugo had asked her to marry him before she'd even finished her work experience.
The news of their whirlwind romance had spread around the building and all their colleagues were delighted to see the easy-going star of their paper so in love with the pretty young reporter.


They turned off the lane and stopped outside enormous wrought iron gates. Hugo pressed a button and they started to open just as a sheet of lightening lit up the sky. For a moment the silhouette of a large country mansion could be seen against the night sky.

'There it is darling, Tudor Hall, my family home, where I grew up. I can't wait to show you round. Let's hope it stops raining tomorrow so I can take you round the estate.'

Marie stroked his thigh as he parked the car with a flourish in front of an elegant flight of steps.

'Quickly tell me who's going to be here again Hugo'.

'Well there's my father Sir Hugh who is the lord of the manor. He'll already be in bed for the night when we arrive so you'll meet him at breakfast. Patricia Peacock who was a friend of my mother's. Her main hobby is spending her husband's money. She'll be with her daughter Kassandra Scarlet who my mother hoped I would marry. Then there is the Revd Green who my father feels sorry for because he's wanted for fraud, don't ask me why. Then  this evening there will be a guest of Mrs. Peacock, a university Professor, who got in to some sort of trouble with a student and had to retire. Oh and Jack Mustard, our neighbour who is a retired colonel and owes lots of money so dad's always trying to help him out.  Oh yes and of course Mrs. White our governess who looks after dad.'

Marie laughed, ' They sound fascinating, I hope I'll be able to remember all that.'

The door of the mansion opened and a woman ran down the steps holding up a large umbrella.

'Oh Mrs. White,' called out Hugo with relief, ' This is Marie, quickly we're getting soaked, thank you so much.'

Hugo put his arm round Marie and the three of them ran back into the house huddled together as another clap of thunder sounded overhead.

As the imposing front door slammed shut behind them a silence fell and Marie gripped Hugo's hand.  She stared around her and took in the grand marble staircase and the vast hall dominated by three huge statues of lions. She felt her jaw drop and in a daze handed her wet coat to the woman who had greeted them,  Hugo shook his wet hair scattering raindrops that sparkled in the light of the magnificent chandeliers.

Mrs.White lead the way towards an imposing set of solid oak doors and opened them with a flourish.

'Everybody is waiting in the Library. The power keeps going so it is the warmest place to be.'

They entered the room just as another loud clap of thunder sounded overhead. Marie clung on to Hugo's arm. The library was even more grand than the hall. The walls were lined from top to bottom with antique leather bound books.  A beautiful log fire lit up the people grouped around on huge velvet armchairs. One of them stood up and came towards them. He slapped Hugo on the back and held out his hand to Marie.

'Good evening my dear, so pleased to meet you at last. I am Colonel Mustard, but you can call me Jack.'

Marie  shook his hand and fought the desire to curtsey. She felt totally overwhelmed by the grandness of the house and the elegance of the occupants. One by one they came to greet her. The Revd Green scowled and mumbled something that sounded like scum. Mrs Peacock held out a limp hand and scrutinized Marie's outfit with a look almost of disgust. Kassandra Scarlet was dressed in a tight fitting red gown that left nothing to the imagination. She lay her hand on Hugo's arm and whispered in his ear.

Marie had to make an effort not to roll her eyes and giggle. She drew herself up and tried to give what she hoped was a friendly smile.

'It's a pleasure to meet you all at last. Hugo has told me so much about you all, I feel I know you.'

There was a stunned silence as they all stared at her. Hugo coughed and looked embarrassed. Marie felt a sensation of unease creep over her.
Another clap of thunder heralded the arrival of Mrs.White bustling in with a tray.

'Here we are, a hot toddy, honey and whiskey, just the job for this miserable evening.  Oh no I've forgotten the oat cakes on the kitchen table. Could you go and get them Hugo please, I made them specially for you. I'll just go and check the generator in case the power goes again.'


As Marie took a sip of the hot golden liquid, Jack Mustard stood up in front of the fire and stared straight at her.

'I think we are at an unfair disadvantage, my dear, Hugo has told us nothing about you.'

Kassandra Scarlet pointed at her with a long perfectly manicured nail.

' Yes come on spill the beans. Who are you?

The drink was making Marie feel light headed and giggly, she thought Kassandra looked like the centipede in 'Alice in Wonderland'.
Revd Green mumbled something that sounded again like scum. Mrs. Peacock threw a log onto the fire and there was a menacing hiss.  Marie felt a chill go down her spine and gulped more of the drink. It gave her some sort of courage because she heard herself say brightly:

'Well I'm Marie Jones and I come from Brighton, which is where I went to school. My father is an engineer and my mother is a nursery school teacher.  I read English at  Brickwell university, I've got a younger brother who is a doctor and I work on the same newspaper as Hugo, that's how we met. In my spare time I like painting and gardening and I'm learning how to play the harp. I also belong to St. John's ambulance and specialize in cardio arrest.'

Because of the effect of the unaccustomed whiskey the words came out in a rush and in a sing song voice. Marie stopped, embarrassed and wondered where Hugo had got to. Everyone was staring at her.

The door opened and everyone turned. Marie gave a sigh of relief thinking it must be Hugo, then gasped and clamped her hand to her mouth when she saw who had entered the room.  She could feel her heart in her throat and the blood pounding in her head. There was another clap of thunder and she fought back a scream. She stood up, There was a candlestick on the table next to her and she grabbed hold of it to try and relieve her tension.

Mrs. Peacock stood up and sasheyed towards the newcomer, swaying her hips and tossing back her hair.

'Good evening Professor Plum, how wonderful to see you. Hugo's fiancée has just been telling us all about herself. She went to the same university where you worked, perhaps you know her.'

Professor Plum bowed to brush his lips on Mrs. Peacock's outstretched hand, then raised his eyes to the assembled company.

His voice was low and husky,

'Oh my dear, so many students, so many.' then his gaze fell on Marie and their eyes locked. He turned bright purple and seemed to gasp for breath.

There was a streak of bright lightening and a deafening clap of thunder. A gust of wind blew down into the fireplace and the flames died down. The lights went out, there was a tremendous thud, then someone screamed.

The door flew open and Hugo appeared with a plate of oatcakes and a torch. He shone it round the room and shrieked

'Professor Plum, he's on the floor, what's happened?'

He shone the torch straight at Marie, she was still clutching the candlestick. She gently placed it back on the table and knelt down beside Professor Plum's body.

Just then the lights came back on and Mrs. White came back into the room. She screamed at the sight of Professor Plum. His head was thrown back and his face was a mask of total horror.

Marie stood up and looked around the room. Kassandra was crying and Mrs. Peacock had her arm around her shoulders. Revd Green seemed to have aged ten years and looked  very scared. Colonel Mustard was slumped in a chair by the fire holding his head and moaning. Hugo was still holding the plate of oatcakes . She looked directly at him and saw the unfathomable depth of her love for him reflected back at her.

When she spoke Marie's voice was gentle and full of kindness.

'We must call an ambulance and the police, but I'm quite sure that Professor Plum has suffered a heart attack.'

Hugo put down the plate and went over to her. he hugged her tight and she felt the tension leave his body.

Maybe one day she might tell him what Professor Plum had done to her and her friends, and how she had wanted to become a journalist to expose people like him.

Ch Ch Ch Changes

The snowfall during the night had completely covered the For Sale sign.
Jilly went to brush it away, but her gloved hand hovered in mid air.
Just for a moment longer she wanted to think of the house as her home and to pause and reflect awhile.


The sound of snow sliding off the roof made her turn round and she looked up at the beautiful bow window where her dressing table had been.

She had sat there brushing her dark brown curly hair and putting kohl eyeliner round her beautiful brown eyes thousands of times. She thought back to their first party, home from the honeymoon and eager to have their friends round as a married couple.
The house had seemed far too big for just the two of them but Tom had inherited it from his elderly parents who had both passed on.
The house and Tom were to be her refuge after her traumatic miserable childhood, at last she had found a haven.
 It had been so exciting to know that they would close the door at the end of the evening and go up to their bedroom, freshly decorated by Tom .
She had bought a new pink satin slip dress for the occasion. David Bowie had been on the radio singing 'Ch ch changes'. She'd loved that song , It had seemed a sign when Tom had come into the room and swept her up in his arms and together they had belted out the chorus of the song, Ch ch changes, no longer would they be alone, they would have lots of children and the house would be full of friends and laughter, their lives were changing for the best.

Jilly walked across the garden enjoying the crunchy noise her boots made in the snow. She looked up at her son Ben's bedroom window. She felt her heart swell and a tear slid down her cheek.
No-one who met him now, a charming dedicated vet with a busy practise in Exeter, could possibly guess what a difficult baby and toddler he had been.
 All those sleepless nights, his terrible colic and then his learning difficulties and unruly behaviour that turned out to be due to an undiagnosed hearing problem. It had been a challenge for both of them, left on their own all the time. Tom had been so often away working hard to build his business laying gas pipes all over the world and she had had no relatives.
 Jilly had poured all her patience and humour into bringing up Ben to be a well adjusted and competent young man.
 In hindsight it had been Ben's love of animals that had saved them both, the little dogs and cats that had been a constant source of joy. Hamsters, guinea pigs, dogs and cats, Jilly and Ben had loved them all.
Tom was so busy at work, often travelling away from home for weeks on end and when he came home  he was always exhausted. Jilly had  tried  so hard to create a happy atmosphere to make him want to come back, to be glad to be home again. She was aware of the temptations he might meet on his travels and sometimes it seemed to her that she had spent her whole marriage worrying about losing him.

 Jilly stood still breathing in the crisp air and savouring the tingling sensation on her cheeks. She looked at the flower bed where all their various pets had found a final resting place. She thought of the baby she had lost before Ben was born, and thought that maybe that's why she had had so much patience with him. She had always felt so lucky to have him. Her phone rang, startling the few birds who were looking for food in the garden hedge. It was Tom.

'I'm nearly there now, won't be long, sorry I'm late.'

It was a sort of mantra that she had heard so many times when he was away on his trips. She replied as she always had,

'That's alright, drive carrefully, I'll be waiting, love you.''

With a sigh she walked up to the kitchen window and peered in. How many times had she sought solace at the large oak table, going through the motions of putting the kettle on and making tea which had been her solution to all problems. When she'd lost the baby, when her mother had died, when her father had told her that he was off to live in Scotland with a girl from work, and whenever Tom rang to tell her time and time again that he wouldn't be home after all, he would be late, something had cropped up.

The phone rang again, this time it was her friend Cathy.

'Hey there Jilly, all ok? Your bed's all ready and I've made a Thai curry.'

'Thanks Cathy, 8 o clock ok for you?'

'Great, and I've got a dvd for us to watch.'

Jilly  shivered as a few snowflakes started to fall. In spite of the cold weather it would soon be Spring, her favourite season. Her birthday was coming up, so often she had spent it without Tom.
She thought how different it would be this year and felt an unexpected thrill of excitement. She started humming 'Ch ch ch changes.'

She walked towards the old shed and rubbed away at the window with her glove. There was a pile of old bikes and tricycles. She smiled to herself, a whole childhood in a shed, from baby walker to mountain bike.

 When Ben had left to go to uni Jilly had gone to the doctor thinking she had empty nest syndrome. She was crying all the time and felt like a black cloud was hanging over her. Without even looking up, the doctor had scribbled  a prescription for some pills. Her life had become a sort of fog after that. Then two years ago her doctor had retired and a new young  doctor had taken his place. He had suggested that Jilly could talk to someone  and stop taking the pills.
The next thing she knew she was sitting in a comfortable armchair talking to a well-groomed young woman, a psychologist called Mary. Through a mist of tears Jilly had told her all about her difficult childhood, how she had had to act as go-between with her angry aggressive father and her mum who never had the strength to do any housework or put a hot meal on the table. How she had hoped to have such a wonderful marriage and family with Tom, but he was always away and she was so afraid he would leave her, about coping on her own with her son Ben, about her disappointment at having left school at fifteen with no qualifications, and about the baby.
Mary had made her a cup of tea. She had listened carefully and asked a few gentle questions then told her to come back the following week.
Afterwards on the way home  Jilly had switched the radio on and there was that David Bowie song, 'Ch ch ch  changes'.  She couldn't believe the coincidence, thinking of it as a sign. She listened carefully to the words and when she heard the line 'So I turned to face me,' she knew what she had to do. Only she could change her life. Right at that moment she saw her life as a shining gem radiating energy and possibility that no-one but she would ever possess no matter what its deficiencies. Her relationship with Tom and  with her own father might have cracked but perhaps new pathways could be navigated, winding their way round the obstacles and forging better ones.
When Tom came home at the weekend she told him that she loved him , she only wanted him, but did he want her still?
He had looked at her in astonishment.

'You see Tom I was listening to that David Bowie song that we used to love so much 'Ch ch Changes,' and it made me think about where I am going and then I thought of something I read once, I think it's by St.Paul. He says our lives are like a tapestry. We can only see the broken threads, the loose ends, the bits where the colour changes and the slipped stitches, but one day it will be turned over and then it will be  a picture and I want mine to be a good one.'

Tom's mouth had hung open. He listened in amazement as Jilly continued.

'Ben is opening an animal sanctuary with Misha his girlfriend and says I could work there. There's a cottage for sale nearby. This house is too big for us and I feel lonely being so much on my own. I' d like to see a new family living here. It needs to be filled with laughter and muddy football boots and loud music coming from the bedrooms.'

Tom had put his arms round her.

'Jilly, you and Ben are all my world. It's you that have kept me going with the business all these years. I know it's been hard for you but I couldn't have done it without you. Ben told me about the animal sanctuary and I think it's a great idea. I'm looking into early retirement.  I think I've laid enough pipes. We need a change. We'll have a new start.'

He had kissed her tenderly. Then he surprised her by singing 'Let's turn and face the strain.' She giggled and started to speak but he gently put his finger on her lips and went on.

'I want to be the star of your tapestry, I want to be a golden thread. We'll make it magnificent.'

He had kissed her again. This time with all the passion of a new love as though they had met for the first time and were drawn by an irresistible attraction. Then he had drawn back and wiped away a tear from her cheek.

'We'll find a nice family to carry on the torch here,'

Jilly hugged him tight and tried to stop the tears. Tom held her away from him and he saw in her the lovely young woman who had sat at the dressing table on the night of their first party all those years ago. He had looked at her then and a warm feeling of deep pleasure and relief had swept over her as she recognized his saucy look that she used to know so well. Tom traced his finger over her lips and she started to tremble as he held her tight and whispered in her ear.

'You're the only one for me Jilly, I think I might just start right now to try and make up for all those years of neglect.'

***

The snow was falling thick and fast and Jilly went round to the front of the house. Tom would be here soon and then they would go to Cathy's for the night and drive down to the cottage tomorrow. Misha was preparing a special celebration lunch. She was from Belarus and was delighted that they would all be living near each other.

 Jilly put her hand up to the For Sale sign and with a swift movement brushed the snow away to reveal the word

SOLD.