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Chapter 2 Previously... Trying again, I looked where my finger had landed and smiled, South Devon, near the Cornish border--Penmarris Cove. It looked like a small fishing village--that would be where I would try to rebuild my life. "That will do." I said starting the car and following the signposts that said West Country. And now the story continues... It took thirty minutes to get on the motorway that leads down to Devon and the West Country--plenty of time to think about what I should do. I know I wasn't thinking straight--the shock of my wife and her betrayal would probably haunt me for the rest of my life. At first I blamed myself for being transgendered, but my wife came into the marriage with eyes wide open. I told her on the second date, who and what I was. She seemed to get a buzz out of my far from normal gender identity. The one thing she was concerned about was whether I took the final step and had SRS, but I said that I had no intention of doing that and she seemed quite happy with my response. We had a lovely white wedding at a little church near Maidstone in Kent, where she had been born. The only down side for me was that I wasn't the one wearing the wedding gown. The service was traditional; the only difference being that we both read the famous poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, taking turns to read each wonderful line. I felt a lump in my throat as I remembered the words: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with a passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. I had to stop in a lay-by for a few minutes get myself back together again--but after I pulled myself together and gave myself a good talking to, I continued on, as I still had a long way to travel. As the car sped its way toward my destination, I wondered whether I should have screamed and shouted when I caught them naked in our house on one of our beds; but, what was the point? She obviously didn't find me enough for her, so she went elsewhere for love; or was it just the sex? For all I knew he was the milkman, plumber or whatever. Shouting, screaming and fighting wouldn't have changed anything. Our marriage was over and beyond repair once she decided that I wasn't what she wanted any more. We were so happy at first, doing everything together and enjoying adventurous sex. We liked to "do it" in lots of different places. Including on a train, a mile up in the air, on a ship, (we liked to travel). We never managed a bus, but probably would have done given time. Where was I? Oh yes--we made love in a field, on top of a cliff and even in the car park of our local pub; you get the message, we enjoyed life to the full. It wasn't just the sex, we loved going to the theatre and concerts, eating out, parties--all things a loving couple like to do together. Then it all started to unravel about a year ago and I always thought that it was my fault. Had I gone too far with my dressing? Every evening and at weekends, I spent dressed as a girl. Every night, I went to bed in silky nighties and this seemed to help heighten our lovemaking for a while. Olivia only saw me dressed as a male on the occasions that I needed to be--going to work or other functions that required me to be en drab. Sighing, I came out of my reverie as I took the slip road to the M4; traffic was quite heavy even here as the rush hour was in full swing. There was quite a lot of stop start traffic and once again, as I didn't have to concentrate on driving at speed, I returned to my thoughts. Sinking into a bit of self-pity; I remembered the good times. Tears streaked down my face as I remembered the first time we made love. I was a virgin and I think she was. I'm not so sure now as she seemed to be a bit of an expert and you don't learn everything reading books. Anyway, for me the experience was lovely--the culmination of the love we had for each other... The road seemed to clear miraculously ahead and soon I was up to speed again. Concentrating on the traffic and the road ahead meant that my disturbing thoughts were put in the background. A good thing really as the last thing I wanted to do was start crying again at nearly eighty miles an hour! I drove for nearly two hours and it was getting dark now. I saw the sign warning that a service area was one mile ahead and decided to have a break and do something else too. Pulling up at a parking bay, quite a way from anyone else--it was not very full as it was a weekday and getting a bit late. I switched off the engine and shut my eyes for a moment. I must have dropped off because when I looked at the clock on the dashboard, half an hour had passed. There were no cars near me and I was relatively alone. Looking at my drab suit, I grimaced, hating the sight of it and the feel of the shirt and tie, tight against my neck. I made a decision then, one that had been at the back of my mind ever since I saw Olivia and him. Taking off my jacket, I threw it on the back seat. My tie followed. Looking around to make sure that I was still unobserved, I got out of the car and then going to the boot, opened it. I had brought no male clothing with me as subconsciously, I suppose, I had decided that I no longer wanted to be seen as a male in any way shape or form. The dichotomy of trying to live a dual life hadn't worked for me or Olivia, so I made the decision. Opening a case, I pulled out a pink sweatshirt and grey jogging pants, putting them on the back seat. Returning to the boot, I rummaged around the case for the other things that I needed. There was a selection of bras and my breast forms, I picked out a white bra, some pink sports socks and my white trainers with pink edging that had been jammed down the side of the case when I hurriedly packed it. I now had all I needed and shut the boot. Looking around, another car had parked about 30 yards away and I waited for the couple to get out of their car and walk hand in hand towards the services building before I continued with my plan, such as it was. I sat in the back of the car--plenty of room in a 5 series BMW, luckily--and after checking that all was clear, I got changed. Off came my shirt and I immediately put on the bra and placed the rather cold breast forms next to my hairless skin. After a small adjustment of the straps, I was okay. Then I put on the sweatshirt. With one eye on possible sightseers, I removed my trousers; I was wearing a pair of pink satin panties already, so I didn't have to change them. I pulled up the jogging pants, not easy in a car but with a certain amount of Houdini-like contortions, I managed to put them on. Finally, I put on my pink socks and trainers and then I was done--well that bit was anyway. It was quite dark now and I only had the lights of the parking area to guide me, I took out the brush form the glove compartment and gave my longish blond hair a good brush pulling the hair back and concentrating on the tangled end bits. Then taking a pink scrunchie that had been around the handle of the brush, I put my hair up in a pony tail. The mirror wasn't too good, so I didn't see if my hair was okay but as the first thing that I was going to do was go into the ladies loo, I didn't worry about it. I didn't shave much, being light skinned and blond, so I just put a bit of foundation on and squinting in the small vanity mirror, put on some pink lippy. A few minutes later, after picking up my shoulder bag, I locked the car and walked towards the bright lights of the service area, feeling a bit like a jogger in my outfit but, hopefully looking the part. Not wanting to hang around, I went straight to the ladies--something I had only done twice before--but hell I was the new me now, all girl and proud of it. I had to assert myself no matter how much of a coward I felt deep inside. Heart thumping, I pushed the swing doors open. As soon as I walked in, without looking to left or right, I went to an empty stall, shut the door, pulled down my joggers and panties and sat down. Sighing with relief, I let it all go, making sure that my wayward and now unwanted appendage was pointing downward--Unwanted, that was a thought, did I really want to go all the way now? I didn't want to go there so I finished the business and after wiping myself carefully and taking my courage in both hands, I unbolted the door and went out, certain that thousands of women would stop and stare at me. Chapter 3 It wasn't quite what I thought. There were no screams, shouts of horror or women fainting at the sight of me, just several women washing their hands, doing their hair or touching up their makeup. It was busy with people coming and going all the time. It was busy, busy, busy! Sighing with relief, I went to the corner basin and washed my hands. Sneakily I looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, but no, they were more interested in themselves than anyone else. I saw in the mirror that my hair should be re-scrunchied as I was a bit lopsided in the ponytail department. I quickly took off the scrunchie, brushed my hair back and then put it back up again, nice and straight. My makeup didn't look too bad so I just touched up my lipstick and powdered my slightly shiny nose. Studying at my reflection with a critical eye, I wouldn't win any beauty contests, but on the other hand, I did look more or less female and that was good enough for me. I left the ladies and went to McDonalds, passing quickly as the smell of the burgers made me feel slightly sick. There was a small counter selling filled rolls so I ordered a BLT* and a coffee and took them to a corner table. The place wasn't all that busy so I was able to eat in relative peace. Mind you, my heart felt a sort of stabbing pain when I saw a couple walk by, hand in hand and sit down not ten feet from me. However, they had eyes only for each other; the smiles, laughs and whispers, showed all too clearly what they had--and I had lost. Looking away, I concentrated on my snack. I had to be positive. No good would come of my wallowing in self pity. Now I was not concentrating on driving, my thoughts turned not at what had happened a few short hours ago, but what I was going to do about it now--it being my life. Sipping my coffee, I wondered about the ramifications of my running away from my responsibilities. My plan, such as it was, was simple--run as fast as I can. Not a very good or imaginative one in the circumstances. It was a scheme that it had certain flaws; even I, in my bruised and battered state could see that. Rubbing my eyes, I felt quite weary. It was nearly nine o'clock and I still had at least a three-hour drive before I reached my destination and even then, I would have to sleep in the car because most places would almost certainly be shut up for the night. The service area had a Travelodge hotel attached to it so I decided to see if there were any vacancies. Picking up my shoulder bag, I left the service building and went next door to the hotel reception. There was no sign of anyone at reception so I rang the bell on the desk. A few minutes later a woman came out from the office and smiled at me. She was, according to the badge pinned to her bosom, Tracey--receptionist. "Can I have a room for the night?" "Yes, Madam; for how many?" "One please." "Smoking or non-smoking?" "Non-smoking." "Will you require calling in the morning?" "No thanks." "That will be forty-nine pounds please." I nearly gave her my credit card but as it had my male name on it; it would probably give the game away and might conceivably make her phone the police. Luckily, I had fifty pounds so I gave her the cash. I know that they don't normally inspect cards closely these days, as we just stick the card in the slot and put in the pin number, but knowing my luck at the moment, something would go pear-shaped. "Right, Madam, you're in room one-two-five on the first floor; here's your key. You are entitled to a discount of five pounds off your breakfast if you go to the Little Chef next door. You must vacate your room by 10 o'clock. I hope you enjoy your stay." I returned her plastic smile and took the key. Returning to my car, I picked up my suitcases, computer bag and other bits and pieces, and struggled back to the hotel. Where was a bell boy when you needed one? Not that a place like this ever went as far as employing someone like that--too posh. Struggling with my cases--on wheels luckily--and my bags, I managed to find room 125 and let myself in. I sank down on the surprisingly comfortable bed and shut my eyes for a few minutes. Half an hour later, I woke up, not quite knowing where I was; then it came back to me with a rush. I had not realised how tired I was and was glad that I decided to break my journey, perhaps I would be fresher tomorrow. I opened one of the cases and pulled out a few things. Picking up the remote, I switched the TV on; it was the news--full of the doom and gloom of British politics and little else. The country was going to rack and ruin and the newsreader seemed to be enjoying telling us all about it. Deciding that a bath would be in order, I entered the bathroom and turned on the taps. I took off all my clothes and made sure that my hair was safely in a shower cap. I know I was going to have a bath, but I always sink a bit under the waves and I did not want the back of my hair wet. It was great to relax in a nice warm bath. I had found some pink bubble bath, so I was covered in nice strawberry-smelling suds. All my knots unravelled as the tension eased out of my muscles. I must have fallen asleep, as I woke up suddenly as the bath water started to get cold. I stood up, pulled out the plug and got out; luckily I wasn't too pruney in the skin department and began to dry myself with a big fluffy towel. I slipped on my long peach satin nightie, brushed my hair, cleaned the remnants of any makeup off my face, put on some cold cream to help keep my face as beautiful as the girl in the advert--well she said it helped and it must be true as it was on the TV--and then I sat on the bed. I wasn't very tired any more. The TV was droning on, local bulletin now, even more depressing than the national news, I noticed. I switched the TV off and picked up my computer bag, unzipping it and taking out my notebook--a must for an up-and-coming ex-company executive like me. I was in a wi fi area so when I switched the computer on, I was able to get a reasonable signal. I checked my email; there were about fifteen spams plus one from the office and another from Olivia. Not wanting to read anything from Olivia at the moment, I opened the one from the office. It was just a confirmation of the meeting I was supposed to attend the next day. I clicked the reply button and just said that I would not be able to attend as I was sick. I told them I was having stress problems and that I would contact HR in a few days. Then, somewhat reluctantly, I opened the email from Olivia. Tom, What's happening and why is your phone switched off? Please ring me when you get this as we need to talk. Olivia I didn't reply and just shut the email down. On a whim, I Googled, Penmarris Cove. There wasn't much about it, just a small website with a few pages. It was evidently a fishing village, as I had thought, but there were only two fishing boats left using the tiny harbour, so it wasn't exactly Grimsby. There was one pub, a post office-cum-village shop, a small primary school, a gift shop, an iron monger's, a fish and chip shop and a general store. The population was five hundred at the last census and it appeared that the main source of income was tourism in the summer months, when the village's population tripled--if the weather was good. There were a few small sandy beaches at either end of the cove, imaginatively named East Beach and West Beach and from the grainy pictures on the website, it all looked picturesque and rather pretty. "Yes, I thought to myself, "a nice place to hide away and be myself," Smiling, I shut the computer down then went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and had a wee. Switching off all the lights with the exception of the one on the bedside cabinet, I slipped under the sheets and just stared at the ceiling. As far as I was concerned, today was the end of my old life and tomorrow was the beginning of my new one. BLT* Bacon lettuce and tomato roll Chapter 4 The next morning I awoke with the sun on my face, coming through a chink in the curtains where they had not been closed fully. Rubbing my eyes, I reached over and looked at my watch; it was ten past eight. I had a good stretch and a yawn, feeling rested and ready to face the new day. Getting out of bed, I stretched again and padded over to the dressing table, checked the kettle for water and switched it on. Feeling a bladder situation occurring, I used the toilet and then washed the sleep out of my eyes. By the time I had done all this, the kettle had switched itself off. I made myself a cup of coffee with the granules and milk provided and then went back to bed. Switching on my computer, I clicked on Google Maps and had a look at the route I ought to take to sunny Devon. It looked straightforward enough and, if I didn't stop, I reckoned I would be on the road for about three hours. I checked my emails--more out of habit than any real need. Apart from a couple of spams regarding enlarging my penis, and telling me for a fact that I had won a timeshare in Spain, there was one from Olivia. After pausing over the button for a moment, I sighed and opened it. Tom, where are you? Why have you switched your phone off and why didn't you answer my previous email and texts? Why have you taken so many girls clothes away with you. What is going on? You aren't at the hotel where your meeting is yet. Please ring me urgently, we REALLY need to talk. Olivia. No "Love Olivia", I noted as I closed her email. Did she want to tell me about her infidelity? I felt as if I didn't know her--she wasn't the person I thought I had married. I hadn't decided what say to her yet and was going to wait until I arrived at my destination and settled in. Mind you, there may not be anywhere to stay, but I would cross that bridge when I came to it. It wouldn't hurt for her to wonder where I was for a few more hours. Drinking my coffee, I felt a certain peace. I was doing what I wanted--without any outside influences. For most of my life, I had taken into consideration what others wanted and not looked after my own interests. It was kind of liberating, lying on this bed like this in my silky feminine nightie, planning my future. It had taken the breakdown of my marriage to get where I now was and, sad as I was that things had happened the way they had, anything I did from now on was down to me and me alone. So I would go down to Devon and would try to make a life for myself without being held back by work or messy relationships. I was lucky in a way because financially, I was in quite a good situation. When my mother died, she left her large, rambling house to me. I sold the house and it netted 250K and the money nestled in several different accounts--all in my name. Olivia wasn't interested in my money and had always been of independent means; in fact my job was working at her father's business, although now I think it was a mistake to have worked for him. The house we had lived in was bought by her parents as a wedding present--another tie which I could have done without. I sometimes felt like a kept man or girl. Olivia didn't need to work, but she did anyway--at the local library. It made her feel useful. I was never very happy in the job. All the other employees thought that I was there was only because my father-in-law owned the place --true really. Olivia thought that I should work in a real job and of course, me being the person I was, I went along with her wishes. Maybe I was too submissive and should have put my foot down and done what I wanted with my life and not just gone with the flow. My real passion was painting. Watercolours mainly, but some oils too. I had gone to university at Bath. I was the traditional art student, a bit scruffy--when not dressed en femme, of course as I had to keep up with the perceived persona. I had a talent and could make my brushes dance on the canvas. I had a good eye and could remember faces and scenes and was able to reproduce these accurately from memory rather well. I had met Olivia at university--at one of those end of term things. She was studying social science and I hadn't seen her before. It was lust at first site and we found ourselves in bed that night and more or less from then on we were an item. First it was just the fun of it all and then things got heavy and we fell in love. Nine months later we were married and the rest, as they say, is history. Olivia had loved my paintings and drawing and thought that I was really talented--but she thought it wasn't a real job. If Van Gogh had sold only one painting while he was alive, what chance did I have amongst the thousands of painters trying to scrape a living from their art? I suppose I was under her spell and my wishes receded into the background. In the end, I gave in, as I always did, and joined the family business. Well it was now time for me to leave the family business and start living my own life. I had a shower and washed my hair. Using a razor, I shaved my armpits and legs, not that they needed much shaving as I always managed to keep on top of that sort of thing. Using the dryer I found in one of the drawers, I dried my hair, then brushed it until it shone, and put it in a ponytail. Finally, I shaved my face with a new wet razor, luckily I was blond and the hair was somewhat sparse. I had remembered to take some of my clothes out of my case to stop them creasing and when I opened the wardrobe door; I pondered about what I should wear. It was quite bright and sunny outside and I wanted to look as feminine as possible, so I pulled out my yellow strappy sun dress and layed it on the bed. Next I searched around for a white bra and panty set--I didn't want to wear tights because I felt they would be too hot on a day like this, so I decided that white sandals were the answer to the footwear problem. I pulled on the panties and then the bra, placing my breast forms inside and arranging them so they looked okay. Then I went to the bathroom to put on my makeup. The lighting was good in there so I was able to put my face on quite easily. I was good at makeup; it must be the artistic side of my nature. I had fair skin and so I only put on the minimum of foundation. Heavy makeup would draw unwanted attention to me, so I was careful not to use striking colours: light blue eyeshadow and light use of eyeliner and mascara made my blue eyes look a little bigger but not over the top. I plucked a few eyebrow hairs to give them more shape and then used a pencil to help define the shape a bit more, giving them more of an arched look. I looked rather pale, so I brushed some pink blusher on my cheeks. Finally, I used a lip liner pencil to improve my lip shape before filling in with my favourite pink lip gloss. I slipped the dress over my head making sure not to get any contact with my face--the last thing I wanted was makeup on my dress. Then I took the scrunchie out and brushed my hair. Finally I put on my sandals and I was ready. Looking at the full length mirror on the door, I could see that I didn't look too bad, quite pretty really, in a plain sort of way. I was thin, about five foot eight, nice legs and my breast area looked okay as the forms definitely gave me the shape and look I wanted. No Adam's apple to speak of, for which I was thankful. The only downside was that my hips and bum looked painfully small for a woman and not quite right, but I couldn't do anything about that--yet. I was blessed with a soft voice and I could raise the register a bit so that it sounded acceptably feminine. One of the standing jokes at work was when anyone rang me they weren't sure if they was speaking to a man or woman! Altogether, I think that anyone looking at me would be hard pressed to call me a man and that was the way I wanted it to stay. Looking at my wrist watch I saw that it was nine o'clock. I was lucky that I always carried the watch in my shoulder bag, together with other emergency jewellery like clip-on ear rings, necklaces and the like--just in case of emergencies. After leaving the hotel, I went to the Little Chef and made use of my ?5 off coupon. Not knowing when I would be eating again, I had a full English breakfast and a pot of tea. No one paid any attention to me other than a quick smile from the waitress as she showed me to my table and a rather lecherous grin from the chef as I walked in. After my rather filling breakfast, I returned to my room, did a few running repairs to my face, packed and twenty minutes later, I was on my way. I stopped off at the petrol station first to fill up and buy a bag of Murray Mints to suck on the journey and then I was off again on the road to Devon. Next stop, sun, sea and dressed crab. Chapter 5 The road is long With many a winding turn That leads us to who knows where Who knows where... The Hollies I stopped only once more at a service area for a quick cappuccino and loo break, as I was eager to get to my destination. As I drove towards the West Country, gradually I felt a weight lifting from my shoulders. I was listening to Dido on my CD and singing along. By nature, I am a happy, positive person and it was only the events of the last few days that made me realise that I had not been very happy for a while now. All that was going to change; if Penmarris Cove didn't work out, then I would stick my finger on the map again and find somewhere that would. "The world is my oyster." I thought. "Who said that?" I shrugged my shoulders and drove on. Eventually, the M5 turned into the A38 and the roads changed from major to minor ones. I had to consult my maps on a number of occasions and wished that I had a satnav, perhaps I would buy one now that I was going to strange new places. A few of the roads were rather narrow and bendy, often there were walls or hedges lining them so one couldn't see past the bends. I nearly had a heart attack twice. First when I nearly went into the back of a tractor that was doing about one mile an hour behind some sheep and the other time, when a tour bus came around the corner and we came within a gnat's whisker from having a head on collision. Anyway, shortly after that I was out into more or less open countryside that looked like moorland , so I was able to pull myself together a bit. I was about five miles from Penmarris Cove, as the crow flies, when my car started to feel a bit strange and the steering became heavy. I pulled into the side of the road and got out. Going around to the front, I found that the offside tyre had started to go flat. "O hell!" I muttered under my breath, thinking it must be a slow puncture. Here I was, stuck on what was now a lonely road, with a flat tyre. I could ring the AA, I supposed. Taking my mobile out of my bag, I switched it on only to be told that there was no service. Stamping my foot in a ladylike manner and muttering unladylike oaths, I pondered over what I should do. Okay, probably you think I should roll up my sleeves, get the spare out of the boot, spit on my hands and change the wheel. There is something that I'm ashamed of. I don't know how to change a wheel or do anything remotely mechanical with a car. People might scoff, but I have never been remotely interested in cars that way. Cars are for getting into at one place and getting out of at another. I could put petrol in it and once, Olivia took an afternoon off to show me how to do the oil and water thingy, but that was it--the end of my expertise. Anyway, I had a BMW and things like that were not supposed to happen to them, you know, Vorsprung durch Technik and all that stuff. I sat in the car, wondering what to do next. Mind you this was a delightful spot, the moorland sloped away gently to the distance, birds were twittering the way they do; there was a slight breeze that helped cool the air slightly and it all looked rather cheerful. After a few minutes, I decided that I ought to try to do something, so I looked at my map and remembered a signpost I had passed about half a mile back that said Penmarris, so I was on the right road. It was a lovely day, so how long would it take me to walk there and get help from a garage or something? I grabbed my shoulder bag, put on some sunglasses, locked the car and set off down the road. The going was good and the road reasonably flat; the breeze wasn't strong and I felt good wearing my thin sundress. After about twenty minutes, my left heel broke; although low heeled, as I walked, I still had a distinct tendency to list to port. Several cars passed but they were going rather fast and didn't stop. I thought about showing some leg and tossing my hair back, but for some reason I didn't think that, in the circumstances, it would be wise--or appropriate. To counteract my "dot and carry" gait, I broke the heel off my other shoe and continued on my way. The sandals weren't really designed for hiking, especially in their distressed state and I began to wonder about the advisability of wearing them in the first place. Then--to add to my joy--it started to cloud over and the wind freshened. I had just about reached the edge of the moorland and the road meandered down through some woods. It was getting decidedly dark as the clouds gathered and so I sheltered under a tree, as it had begun to rain, gently but rather persistently. My mobile bleeped several times and I flipped the lid open to see that I had no less than ten texts and six messages. There was one bar on the strength meter so I took a chance and rang for help. "118118 what number?" "AA please." "Sales, technical support, roadside assistance or administration?" "Roadside assistance please." "Would you like us to connect you?" "Yes please." "Please be advised that you will incur a charge for this connection. If you are ringing from a mobile phone, the connection charge will be considerably more than it would be from a landline." "Do you agree that you wish us to connect you?" "Yes please!" "Would you like us to send you a text with the number?" "Yes, no, I don't care, just put me through!" "Certainly, please hold, while you are waiting is there anything else I can help you with?" "No thank you," I said taking deep breaths and thinking calming thoughts. "Just putting you through; have a nice d......" I lost the signal--the 'phone went as dead as a dodo. "Oh HELL!" It was raining harder now and my hair was becoming wet even under the tree. My sun dress that had felt so thin and cool in the summer sun now felt like a wet rag and my sandals didn't do much for my feet either. As for my wet panties and bra--no I didn't want to think about that. I could have stayed there, had a bit of a cry, or even lost my temper, but I didn't. I decided to carry on down the road towards Penmarris, avoiding the puddles wherever possible. Occasionally I looked at my phone and noted that I still had no signal. The rain was bucketing down now, and the wind started to blow quite hard. I shivered in my thin dress and wondered if it was possible to die of exposure in June. Suddenly I heard a car horn from behind and nearly jumped out of my skin. Turning around, I saw an old Rover; behind the wheel was a man and a lady. They drew up beside me and the lady wound down the window. "Hello, dear, want a lift? You seem a bit wet." I just nodded, my teeth chattering with the cold. "Jump in the back, dear." I pulled open the door and got into the back seat. I was immediately attacked by a large dog who proceeded to try to dry me with its tongue. "Sandy, get off the lady. SANDY!" Sandy got off me and sort of flopped down next to me, giving me an occasional lick of encouragement and the doe eyed look of a Labrador who's been naughty. "Here, wipe your face, dear." The lady handed me a towel that smelt suspiciously of dog and then, after I had dried myself as much as possible, I noticed that we had set off again. The people in front were a couple in their early forties I would say; she was wearing a summer frock and he--the driver--was wearing a dog collar. It didn't need a big jump in imagination to realise that the vicar and his wife were doing the Samaritan thing with me. I wasn't given much time to think as I was then given an interrogation that would have given the Gestapo a run for their money. The vicar's wife asked most of the questions whilst the vicar just beamed beatifically at me in the mirror. "My dear, why were you in the road like that, David could have run you over." "Sorry, my car broke down and I was going for help." "Was that your BMW back up on the moor?" "Yes." "Oh dear, never mind, Mr Potts will sort it out for you. What is your name, dear?" I didn't have a girl's name and had never used one; I didn't think Olivia ever wanted to call me anything but Tom, so Tom I was. "Erm, Samantha Smart." I said, off the top of my head. "Well I'm Jocasta, rotten name but parents, you know? This is David and you can probably guess that as he wears his collar back to front, he's the vicar of Penmarris for his sins. Are you here for a holiday?" I was warming up now as the warmth from the car's heater penetrated my cold bones. "I don't know yet. I might move down this way. This trip was a sort of exploratory one." "Are you alone?" "I am now." "Oh...marriage probs?" "Sort of." "'Nuff said. Look, have you anywhere to stay?" "I thought that I'd fix something up when got to the village." "Bit tricky at this time of year, most places are chocker. Look, you can stay with us tonight, can't she, David, and you can sort yourself out tomorrow." "I don't want to be any trouble..." "It's no trouble is it, dear, we've got plenty of room at the vicarage and you need to get out of those wet clothes." "Thank you, you are very kind." Once again, the vicar beamed beatifically at me and his wife also beamed at me; then, as if by some sort of miracle, the rain stopped and the sun shone through a break in the clouds just as we crested the brow of a hill. There below us, in all its picturesque glory, lay Penmarris Cove. To be continued...