CHAPTER ONE

For the past three weeks Mallory and Nigella had been diligently combing the real estate pages of the Warwickshire County Gazette. After several disappointments they somehow felt this weekend could be the one. There was just something special about this property. The problem had been time of year. With Christmas fast approaching the rural listings were getting shorter and consequently their choice more limited.

Mal turned onto the winding gravel driveway of a 20 hectare estate called Driftwood Acres, located on the west side of Knowle. They were descending gently and around the last bend lay a low-set residence – ranch style. They could see, off to one side, a cluster of outbuildings probably the stables. Driving slower, it became obvious the extensive garden around the house had been let go and was now grossly over-grown. It gave a run-down appearance to the property, but the house itself although an older vintage, looked to be in good repair. A stone chimney rose from its centre. Jellie liked this feature and determined not to be put off by the initial, negative impression.

The real estate agent’s station wagon was parked out front so Mal pulled up beside it. She answered the door to the summons of the iron bell-pull and ushered them in. There was no hallway they were immediately in the living room. Mal appreciated its size and thought probably people used an informal entrance out back. Three walls were wood paneled and hung with an interesting assortment of pictures, mostly horses, in ebony frames. She could see Jellie being happy in a house like this. The front of the house was all windows.

Jellie responded to the warmth of the surroundings, including the large fireplace in the centre of the opposite wall with its large, sandstone over-mantel. It was beyond her why someone would want to give up such a lovely house. From a side room, or maybe it was a passageway, a man came towards them in a wheel-chair. Johdi, the agent, introduced them to Gerald Dearing the owner. Now she had an inkling as to the reason.

“Johdi will show you around and I’ll be happy to answer any questions regarding the business side of things, when you return.” He could only have been in his early fifties. Jellie felt very sorry for him.

“We can go in my car. I’ll introduce you to the extent of the acreage first.”

November’s bleakness showed off the landscape with a stark frankness. However, the undulating contours were truthfully revealed as the shadows of the clouds moved swiftly across and led them to a fast flowing stream, running between two scrub meadows. Although there were no horses in sight, the gusting air still carried a slight whiff of dung. The agistment section consisted of several private paddocks, they discovered later there were twelve in total, which could be sectioned off to board either a single horse, or two together if they were stable mates. Each one was furnished with its own shelter, providing a private tack and feed-storage area. These paddocks had been developed over time, so they were now partitioned by long lengths of railing fence. Unfortunately, they looked to be in need of serious mending, not to mention a good coat of paint, but when freshened up, Jellie thought they’d be just right.

Now and again they stopped to take a lean on one of these rails, then they were to direct their attention to some specific aspect Johdi wanted them to notice. “The property abounds with rural charm,” she would inform them. On these occasions they exchanged glances, but on the whole the vibes between them were positive. It must have taken over half an hour to do the full tour, but they were determined to see everything.

On their return they entered through the large kitchen-cum-dining room and were shown over a small study-cum-office. Jellie’s attention was diverted to more horsey pictures which she soon realised were coloured photographs. A computer monitor had centre position on the desk beside which stood a tall, metal filing cabinet with a stack of archive boxes piled up on the floor next to it.

The bedrooms, there were two, lay on the other side of the house, which they reached through a passage behind the fireplace. Its masonry made an interesting stone feature in the wall. Mal liked the fact that each bedroom had its own en-suite, although the one attached to the second, had two doors and did service as the general washroom. She inquired about laundry facilities. Johdi took them out again, via a side exit to one of the out-buildings. It was spacious and airy, with extensive table surface, but she guessed not so convenient on a cold day in January. Perhaps the owners had felt there was only so much renovating they could do – or afford. The remaining buildings were concerned with agistment needs, housing heavy machinery and assorted equipment. The stables were the other way, dilapidated and deserted. She noticed nice, high raftered ceilings and the wood partitions were of good quality and well preserved. Johdi led them back to Mr. Dearing who offered everyone tea. She excused herself to work on her laptop. “Just give me a ‘hoi’ when you’re done.”

Mal did most of the questioning, although Jellie was interested in the number of horses they would look after, on average. Mr. Dearing hedged on this, equivocating that much depended on the season and people’s holiday plans, but it was rare for them not to have a few on hand. Fair enough, thought Mal.

Grim faced, he volunteered he had expected to recover fully from a tractor accident, but now knew it would be impossible to carry on the business. He could not leave it all to his wife so this was a down time. She was welcome to see the books. Another half hour and they were through. They promised Johdi not to take too long to get back to her. They needed time to discuss the proposition with their solicitor. She understood.

Driving back, Jellie was exhilarated. It had been a long time since Mal had seen her so fired up. This was good. She positively bubbled with excited observations.

“Let’s stop at a coffee shop and talk things over, then I won’t be trying to do two things at once,” Mal suggested. Jellie readily agreed and soon they were enjoying a skinny latté each, seated at a corner table in a country café. It was now mid-afternoon and they had the place to themselves. It provided a cheerful ambience with green-checked table clothes. A posy of flowers at each centre added a note of colour – only artificial Jellie discovered later. In the central heating they needed to remove their padded jackets. Jellie was finally at ease when garbed in jeans and bulky sweaters. Mal had assured her that casual clothes were a perfectly acceptable form of dress for inspecting country properties.

Since the set up of her annuity, Jellie had bought quite an extensive wardrobe, but had not gone mad. These outings had been fun times, but for her money and clothes had always been in plentiful supply, so this new development didn’t see her leap over the top. Mal pushed up her sleeves. “So what do you think Jells?”

“I think it would need a lot of work …” she took a sip of coffee: “… but I do see potential.” Putting down her glass she enquired: “What do you think?”

“Do you mean work for the agistment component, or the riding school?”

“I have to say Mal, I’m most interested in the riding side, but I can see that to get there we’d have to start with the stabling, so I guess the answer is both.”

“Mm…m…”

“Between the two of us we should be able to manage.” She looked deep into the azure eyes and felt a warm surge of love sweep through to her core. Together they could accomplish anything. What a marvelous future!

“I could help out on weekends, but I still have my job in the city,” Mal reminded her. “I would love to live out there Jells, but I also need to work you know.” What she wasn’t telling her was that their living together was getting too much for her. The strain of holding her feelings in check was getting harder to bear. She felt at any time, in a vulnerable moment, and she was experiencing so many of them lately, her control over her emotions could weaken. She needed to put some space between them. How can I not let her see my true feelings? She could hate me if she knew. She would view it as a perversion. She’s from another time, a time when such a love was considered an abomination. But I do so want her in my life.

“Don’t I have enough money for us both?” A feeling of uneasiness was beginning to replace her joy, finally flaring into a full-blown misgiving which tightened her chest.

Mal had to smile despite her personal worries. “Jells, you have more than enough. With your investments, your income will continue to grow. But that’s not the point. I must be my own person. I couldn’t live a life dependent on you, for me that would be no life at all.”

Dejection closed about her as she digested these words. Not only was Mal not sharing her enthusiasm, she was nowhere near the same dream. Yet she felt they had been growing so close. She had thought it would be the most natural thing for them to continue in everything together. But she was making it plain their lives were not so entwined. A sudden comprehension illuminated how dreams could be precarious, no more than fleeting fantasies.

An acerbic twist curved her sensuous mouth. “I see … so if I take this on, I take it on alone.” This time the voice was flat.

“Not alone Jells, I’d help you every step of the way, but you would be hiring people to work for you: the general manager, operations manager, riding instructors you know … stable managers, grooms …” Mal didn’t notice the change in her companion, too wrapped up in her own concerns, concealing as much as she was telling. She was anxious to appear practical and constructive; to make Jellie’s self-reliance more positive and their separation more feasible – a smooth transition.

Jellie lapsed into silence totally deflated. She had not thought of all those people. She had pictured herself and Mal, just the two of them, enjoying the horses, teaching the children; in their new home which they would make so perfect together. The silence lengthened excruciatingly, until Mal could not help but feel its full force.

“Don’t be scared by that Jells, it won’t happen all at once,” she hastened to ameliorate the situation, eager to rectify any damage she might have done. “They’d be nice people whom you’d be happy to be with.”

Unfortunately these words brought back the times she had heard her mother complain to Mrs. Aldred about the difficulties with domestic staff. Her face grew taut from the effort to suppress emotions that for an instant, just beneath the surface, threatened to cripple her. Hold on Nigella, she willed herself, but suddenly was overcome by a feeling of exhaustion, too much even for her to think. Mal watched the struggle and came to realise that indeed Jellie’s bubble had burst.

“Come Possum, we don’t have to decide right now. Let’s make tracks and give ourselves time to talk everything over properly.” She would have to work something out.

The return ride was very subdued. Even the day had turned gloomy. The sun was hazy in a restless sky as it fought its way through banks of grey, November cloud which now had amassed and thickened. Jellie did not know what to think and Mal knew that here was a serious problem. Jellie liked the property, she was sure of that. She was not afraid of hard work, she knew that too. She doesn’t want to hire employees? She doesn’t want to do it alone? They were turning onto the M1. A straight stretch of highway and she could talk. “Jells … is something about this plan bothering you? Are you changing your mind?”

Her lips quivered and she swallowed: “I’m not so sure now. I think it’s too much for me.” The green eyes were awash with a tearful sheen. Not bothered by the plan, no … by you, yes!

“Even with staff to help …?”

“I’m not like Mama. I can’t order servants about,” she hurled out abruptly.

“No Jells. You wouldn’t have to do that. Anyway, they wouldn’t like it.” Her response was prompt, the words uneven as she tried to reassure her. “These people would be your helpers.” She thought again. Sometimes it was profitable to abandon logical assumptions, to consider perhaps the most obvious. “Are you worried about being by yourself?” She didn’t respond. Mal shot a quick glance across to see a very disconsolate expression fixed on stony features.

“You’d have a live-in carer to look after you. I don’t think the Trustees would allow you out there on your own it’s just … it wouldn’t be me.”

Emotion tightened her throat as she tried to speak. “But that’s it! I don’t want to live with a stranger.” Her eyes were alarming, irrational, her cheeks blotchy with colour.

“I’d be there weekends.” The protest didn’t help. The eyes that turned on her were manic indeed.

“I thought we’d live there together,” she whispered forlornly, all fight suddenly evaporating, her voice laden with sadness.

Mal tried to reason: “I have to earn my living.” She could see her obduracy was causing further hurt, but what else could she do? This occasioned another agitated outburst, the impotent rage assailing the air between them like clouds in a storm.

“You don’t! What’s wrong with the carer’s stipend?” A single tear discharged from compressed eyelids. Mal took time to answer. Her words should not antagonize and she needed to give her a moment to regain her composure. Nonetheless, she herself had a lot to lose. There was too much at stake. Thinking it through some more, trying to see into the future she knew she didn’t want them locked in each other’s pockets, a growing resentment developing between them. The other aspect of all this, which of course Jellie could not appreciate, was the importance of her steady advancement into maturity and independence. She cannot remain reliant on me forever. Is the project too big … too soon? This move was to foster her progress, give her freedom to re-develop her own, unique personality.

It was obvious she still needed support, but it was getting harder for Mal to preserve her objectivity. As Jellie’s capabilities expanded and her confidence grew, she was reminded daily of the girl who had stolen her heart and captured her love. How could she keep her true nature hidden? Is there any way through?

“Perhaps we could continue as we are? As it stands, I pay my rent to Dez. I could pay you rent …” Jellie was about to interrupt, but Mal cut her off saying abruptly: “Hear me out Jells. So … I will live at Driftwood Acres as your carer, but to earn my living I’ll continue my social work part-time … say three days a week.” Her eyes left the road to rest momentarily upon her. Jellie was prepared to listen. “At other times, I would be working with you … managing the stables … doing whatever. I’d like that. We need only have the accountant come out once a month to do the books and perhaps an occasional handy-man. Not too many people.” She paused: “As you get stronger, you can take over more responsibilities … as you felt able.”

There was no response, but Mal had to pay attention to the road. The traffic on the outskirts of the city had become more demanding; for the remainder of the journey no-one spoke.

* * *

That evening and for most of Sunday, it was as if they lived in separate worlds, but still they vibrated together in an unspoken tension. By dinner-time Mal could stand it no longer. She knew she had no right to put Jellie on the spot, but could not hold back forced, despite her better judgement, to ask if she had given any further consideration to their discussion.

Jellie looked at her then returned her eyes to her plate, eating slowly. In fact she had thought of nothing else. She had spent anguished hours fighting with herself, agonising over whether any good could come of this obsessive association, or if to break the ties now would be a more restorative measure. For the first time she was facing the reality of her situation. For the first time she could see it as desperate. The horrible realisation had penetrated to her most insecure places; their separation was most likely inevitable. In trying to weigh up this new insight she was considering if perhaps sooner would be better than later. Inside she felt the full weight of her plight. It had dragged her down all weekend. Over and over she asked the same questions: Can I live without this love? Could I survive without this woman? Like incessant drum beats, the words pounded inside her head until she believed she would go mad. Yes mad, for each time the same answer came up: “No!” Where did this leave her? Untold rocks were looming as she navigated her ship. Was she sick? What should she do? Her ingenuous love seemed a world away. So much had happened since then. It was too late now to recapture that guileless innocence. Her body had awakened to this new reality. Too late, too late!

“Jells, aren’t you going to answer me?”

The words punctured her thoughts, dissociating them into remnants which she must allow to scatter. “I’m sorry. What was your question?”

She was dismayed. Not even willing to listen to me? Despite this setback she repeated her question.

“First I must ask you a question,” Jellie stalled. She needed to pull herself out of this black hollow of heart-breaking wretchedness and could see only one way to do it.

“Ask away,” she responded trying to sound nonchalant, but worried all the same.

“Do you want to continue in your role as carer?” This time the dark, serious eyes regarded her unwaveringly. She would not flinch from the answer.

“Oh Jells, of course I do. There’s no problem there.” The question flooded her with relief. Not so indifferent after all. “I just thought you needed more freedom … you know independence, more space.” She trotted out the excuses knowing in her heart she was just finding some plausible rationale – simply covering her tracks.

“I see.”

Mal observed the measured response. As short as only a week ago, the rejoinder would have been a happy acknowledgement. What a revision. Would she buy her answer? That ebullience that would break free on hearing good news was now on hold. Anyway, she deserved whatever time she needed to sort things out. Try to see it from her viewpoint, Mal. You’ve been too self-centred by half. Flames of disappointment in her shallowness fanned the self-reproach. What sort of love is this that cannot see beyond its own desires?

Now Jellie had to work out if she were telling the truth or just trying to placate her. Surely, over something as important as this Mal would not try to dissemble. Her dark eyes gleamed, the gaze remaining steady trying to probe to the woman beneath. She had never suspected her in the past, what was different now? My own guilt! I have too much to hide. Oh Nigella, don’t make her the scapegoat for your abnormality. Emotional pain channelled itself into a sense of loss, leaving her feeling numb. The meal came to an end; neither moved.

Mal so wanted her to agree. Let this not be a parting of their ways. As legal guardian she would always have contact, but how official – how cold. Her darling Jells, light of her life! This was not how it was going to end – was it? But it’s not up to me all I can do is wait.

“You would be prepared to make that long drive?” She made an effort to rally.

“It’s not so far. But I was thinking of transferring to Selly Oak Hospital. That’s an easy distance.” They sat and looked at each other, their words on the surface seeming so mundane, their hidden thoughts so intense; so at variance.

At last Jellie got up and collected the plates. “That would be better then?” she questioned cautiously.

“Do you think it a good idea?” Mal watched her give the dishes a rinse and stack them. “Do you want some dessert?” she asked.

She didn’t answer right away her mind still too chaotic. “That was enough for me.” She sat down again. “What about you?”

“No. I’m good.” Be patient Mal. This time she got up. “I’ll get us something to drink.” While she was at the fridge, her back turned, she declared: “I think it could work very well,” then returned to her seat.

“Do you?” still this wary circumspection.

“Tell me what you think Jells.” She took a sip and put down her can.

“I think … it would be worth a try,” she rejoined guardedly.

Mal had expected greater enthusiasm, but willingness to try the modified plan was a positive start. She could not complain at that. “Do you want to put a time limit on it and then review, say in six months?” What crap! I sound like a bloody social worker.

“I hadn’t thought of anything like that.” Jellie looked shocked, the arched brows ready to take flight.

“No … no, it’s all right. Sorry, I don’ know what got into me.” She ran a convulsive hand through her hair and mentally kicked herself. The gesture was full of annoyance. Wacko job! “Good. Well that’s settled. I’ll contact Johdi to get Mr. Dearing to send Connor the business papers and set up a property inspection. You know Jells these things take time, so nothing will happen immediately.”

“That’s all right. It will be something to look forward to, won’t it?” Now Jellie was smiling as optimism billowed once more. Nothing lost yet. Her face had lit up in relief and it gladdened Mal’s heart to see elation returning. “Who’s Connor?”

“Connor Mitchell is your solicitor. He’s a nice young man. Although only a junior partner, the firm itself, Armstrong and Walsh, has an excellent name. He’s looking after your annuity and will take on whatever business dealings eventuate. If everything looks kosher then he’ll put in the offer. We still have to wait for it to be accepted of course, so nothing’s certain.” Suddenly she resounded with hollow laughter. “Someone might out-bid us and pip us to the post.” She didn’t really believe it.

“You mean we wouldn’t have it?” Jellie did … and looked so completely dashed, Mal jumped up to encircle her shoulders and give a reassuring squeeze. Me and my big mouth! As she stood over her she turned her face, tilting her chin.

“I think it will be OK, Pumpkin. After all, there aren’t too many people who want to buy agistment stables … in the middle of winter.” The glistening red mouth was so close, the lips trembling slightly. Her hair shone like polished jet under the kitchen fluoro. The cashmere aroma of her shampoo surrounded them and she felt the soft warmth of her pliant body through their sweaters. Her heart began thudding against her ribs. Overwhelmed, too aware of powerful, physical reactions she took in a deep breath and a long step back.

Looking up at her, Jellie did feel bolstered and believed everything would be good, at least for a while. This gave her happiness. She would not let herself think in the long term. That was a luxury she couldn’t afford. For now, if they got their own place, they would have a home to share and they would just have to see how it went from there.

* * *

It was another week before they heard from Connor Mitchell. He had given the papers a thorough going over and found nothing amiss. No encumbrances; the title was free, the business solvent. Subject to the inspection being negative, they could go ahead with the deal. If the estate agent put them at the top of her list, it was very likely they would be in by Christmas.

“The best Chrissie prezzie, ever,” Mal had declared jubilantly. By now Jellie was truly into the spirit of things, bursting out excitedly with some idea for the house or garden, or to do with the stables. Mal was more cautious in this regard. She didn’t want to see Jellie disappointed. There was much to be done and they wanted to get stuck in, but at this stage had to hold themselves back and stay content with enthusiastic speculation.

As it happened, closing took place on Christmas Eve. Because of the business involvement, the process had been more complicated than the usual conveyancing. Connor had texted Mal to make an appointment for the signing. He arrived on their doorstep at three o’clock that afternoon, bearing a bottle of sherry with a bright Christmas bow around its neck. He had not minded doing this on Christmas Eve. It had resulted in a handsome bonus so he was feeling expansive.

Deszree was there to celebrate with them. She had heard so much about Driftwood Acres and was eager to check it out for herself. At the same time she was sorry to have to see them go. Over the weeks she had become fond of them both. The one so different from the other, yet somehow they managed to complement each other very nicely.

When Mal had seen Connor in the office, he always looked the competent accountant in severe business suit, seated behind his desk. Today he was full of Christmas cheer. When she took his coat it was to reveal him dressed in a green plaid waistcoat, white poplin shirt, red bow tie and black cords. She had not been struck before by how personable he was, however his clean-cut good looks did not go unnoticed by the others. He was not tall, but very neatly put together. He had light brown hair, gelled to spikes that peaked over his brow. His eyes, sharp and perceptive, were the same colour and crinkled engagingly at the corners when he laughed; altogether the smart man about town.

Being a special day, they had Christmas music playing and Deszree had dug out her old Christmas decorations. There was no tree, but they had personally made an effort to look festive. Jellie had dressed her hair up, allowing a few curling strands to drift past her ears and at the back of her neck. Mal had let her wear the set of ruby and diamond earrings which had been amongst Lady Glencora’s favourites. Jellie claimed her mother always chose them when she felt something important was going to happen. In the past few days she had blossomed like a scarlet rose, turning its petals toward the sun.

She wore a white, long sleeved frilly blouse with frills repeated on the cuffs and a wine red, velvet skirt. It had a slight flare at the hem from a series of gusset pleats and reached to just below the knee. Black patent shoes with an ornate, silver buckle completed the ensemble. She looked stunning, with a radiance that shone through everything. For the first time since her recovery, she felt beautiful inside and out. She was elated over the house, over Christmas and not least that Mal would be moving to Driftwood with her. At this stage it was enough to have that. Her cup was full. She had no need to ask for more.

By coincidence Deszree and Mal were wearing similar red pants; Deszree with a red blouse, Mal with a green Tee-shirt that sported a jolly Santa face on the front. She made the introductions and once they had signed the papers and Deszree had witnessed them, she opened a bottle of champagne and poured everyone a glass. The toast was jolly as the bubbles rose and popped in a lively tarantella.

Meeting Miss Patchford for the first time, Connor was totally knocked out. She had not been in the least what he had expected. Although not quite sure what that was, he now found it hard to take his eyes off her. He had to make a conscious effort to drag them away so turned his attention to Deszree. Quite taken with him, this one was happy to talk.

Connor Mitchell was an aspiring young man. He felt there was a bright future for him to grasp. He only needed the right break and was sure he could go places. He was intimately familiar with the details of Nigella Patchford’s dossier. Her inheritance was more than enough for his needs … at the moment. ‘Net-working’, that was what he wanted. It’s who you know! He would be happy to be seen in all the right establishments with someone as attractive as she. Admittedly, he didn’t have the details of why there was a carer, but it did appear there was no man on the scene to queer his pitch. Meeting her now, he could hardly believe his luck – that she was a beauty into the bargain. His eyes were full of calculation. If he played his cards right.…

Jellie mostly watched the exchanges, speaking only when she was directly addressed. However, she had sensed the weight of the young man’s regard. Perhaps because she was coming more into her own, she didn’t experience that knotted agitation which usually afflicted her, in fact she thought he was rather nice. He didn’t make her feel disturbed or apprehensive; how she had been at Fulton House. Today she was at ease in his friendly company, even pleased with her new-found self and with him.

The small talk continued until their glasses were empty then Connor got up, wishing them all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. At the door he turned to add: “The next time I see you Nigella will probably be when you’re in your new house,” and his sparkling eyes had smiled into hers. “I hope all goes well with your move.” Her thanks were formal, but she had felt thrilled inside by his gallant attention.

Mal observed her delight and was happy the closing had been completed so propitiously. This was going to be a very Merry Christmas. After searching at some length, she had found what she felt was the perfect gift for Jellie – an intricately beaded top in cream and white, to be worn over a blouse for that layered look. She was sure this rococo garment would be something she would love. Admittedly the decoration was not composed of real seed-pearls, but the laciness and its weight would be elements familiar to her. Her other gift was a mobile phone. For some time now she had felt the dependability and security of this form of contact would be a valuable asset. Living in the country she would not have the luxury of Deszree and although it probably would not mean much to Jellie, it made her feel more confident.

* * *

As it happened possession would not take place until early in the New Year. Now it seemed there was not enough time to do all that was necessary. Ever practical, Mal had pointed out they would be able to make the most of the January sales. Sales had never featured in Jellie’s consciousness so they had no impact. However, going around and looking at furniture and furnishings gave her great pleasure. Sometimes she had no trouble making a decision, at others she could dither for ages changing her mind several times, but with Mal’s help she usually finished up satisfied. Only once did they have to take something back. She had picked out a lamp for the office. To Mal’s eyes it looked totally unsuitable. A fabric shade, divided in sections featuring pink daisies on a white background. The base was porcelain and looked to be hand-painted, but she suspected it wasn’t. Jellie was sure it would be perfect. When they drove out with their purchases and she saw it on the desk, immediately she recognised how inappropriate it was. No harm done. It was easily replaced with a sensible halogen lamp; simple black with a flexible goose neck.

The day of the move: Saturday, January 10th. 2009, Deszree went out with them in Mal’s new Ford Festiva well, new to her. It had only had one owner and the dial showed low kilometers. The transport truck with their white goods and furniture was due to arrive about noon. All the other stuff was already there, but still in boxes. On the back seat Deszree rode with a potted palm, her house warming gift.

“You have to start with something else living in your house too,” she had declared firmly that morning, appearing ready for the drive behind its leafy fronds.

Mal was pleased she had been able to negotiate such a good deal on the car. It was not the de Dion Bouton, but this time it was hers and just right for commuting. The outside was cream, no dents; a grey interior and no stains. Over the Christmas break she had driven to Selly Oak Hospital where Monica had arranged for an interview with Nikki Portman, the Deputy Director. Being a sister hospital with the QEH there was a close liaison between them. It was like Mal would be going to an outer district of Monica’s empire, provided of course, Nikki was in need of a new recruit.

The interview had gone well. The department, set up along similar lines to the QE had not felt strange. Nikki was really looking for someone full-time, the number of caseloads having increased enormously, especially since the establishment of the mandatory reporting of child abuse. Now everything took more time. There were so many complicating factors in a family break-up, or in custody disputes. Nothing was ever straight forward. New legislation had been debated to speed up family court procedures, but no-one knew when it would come into being. Nevertheless, she was a pragmatist prepared to settle for what she could get. Mallory had top spot on the ladder and she was satisfied she met all the key performance indicators their regional supervisor demanded. Who knew, this applicant might want more hours later down the track. It was arranged she would begin the second Monday in January.

Deszree was the perfect ‘first-footer’. She saw the potential in everything and if sometimes felt rather overwhelmed, didn’t let it show. After the delivery vans had deposited their loads, she helped get everything sorted into its rightful room and place. Jellie looked after the little things: linen, china and toiletries, while the others unpacked the tables and chairs and set up the beds.

Mal moved into the office to hook up the computer and printer and the copy/fax machines and get them on line. Deszree found the various channels on their plasma screen and got the DVD player going while she was at it. The house was developing a ‘lived in’ feel leading her to wish she could find somewhere like this for herself. Instead, she would be looking for a new sub-let. They all took a break to enjoy a coffee made with the new espresso maker. Deszree showed Jellie how it was done. She had brought milk and beans from the unit to help them out and used the new grinder for that fresh taste. Mal proposed that afterwards they could drive into Knowle to stock up on real provisions.

The town centre had a village atmosphere which suited Jellie just right. Going up and down the aisles they tried to think of everything the result: a mountainous trolley-load needing one to steer and one to push. The novelty had so excited Jellie she had found it too hard to stop. Playing house was exhilarating, but by the end they were all worn out.

“Hey! Could anyone go a pizza?” Mal was hungry and despite all their purchases, didn’t feel like cooking. They were in agreement.

By the time they reached the house the central heating had kicked in giving it a welcome atmosphere. It was even fun putting-away; that part of shopping she usually hated. A fire in the grate, sending out a crackling blaze would be perfect, but for that they needed to build up the wood pile and start a kindling box.

“Next time we’ll have a fire for you Dez.”

Mal ran her back to the unit, leaving Jellie to settle herself down with some TV. Without heavy traffic it took less than half an hour, door to door.

“I’ll miss you guys, but I’m sure things will work out for you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Dez. But you know we haven’t emigrated to Timbuctu.” They embraced warmly then Mal raced down the stairs to slide behind the wheel of her new compact. As she cut away from the curb she was conscious of her heart thumping, anxious now to be ‘home’. Jellie was by herself in the new house, she was sure she could cope, but … anyway she was too much looking forward to this, their first evening together.