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A Winter Storm

By: jwdramaking



Storms always make working at a grocery store an interesting experience. You never know exactly how people are going to react and how many will actually come out shopping when they expect to be "trapped" in their houses. It was a Friday in late the middle of December and I was scheduled to close the store with Ashley, and thanks to the impending storm we had added an extra cashier working late. Rachael was added to the schedule to work until ten (we closed at eleven). My shift started at five and I the night started off incredibly busy as the storm slowly started to hit. The snow was fairly light until almost eight, so the stream of customers stayed fairly steady.

As the storm gained intensity we had fewer and fewer customers. Shortly after nine the store had become a ghost town and Ashley, Rachael, and I had little to do except kill the time until our shifts ended. It was hard for me to complain being stuck working with two girls as attractive as Ashley and Rachael. Ashley was 21 and her least attractive feature had to be her face, but the rest of her body was spectacular. Her face was far from ugly with her long auburn hair. She stood about 5'5 with slender legs and an ass I can best describe as tight. Her boobs were average size, but they fit nicely with her body.

Rachael was still in high school (fortunately she was already 18), so she was a little younger than Ashley and I (I'm 22). She could kindly be described as occasionally airheaded, but that really didn't matter. Her face was cute and her boobs were large on her 5'2 frame. Like Ashley her best feature was her ass. That ass was perfectly sized for two handfuls. The night was made even better because both girls had on tight pairs of jeans that nicely accentuated their assets. I might have had to head out in a near blizzard to push carriages, but I would have something nice to look at while I was inside the store.

We went almost 45 minutes without having a customer which left us with plenty of time to shoot the shit. Ashley was getting nervous about driving home as the storm got worse, "I haven't driven that much in the snow. I only just got my license in the spring." "Yeah I'm worried about my mom coming out to pick me up in this storm," Rachael added. Normally I would have offered to give each of them a ride home, but it was not looking good outside as the snow continued to come down. "I'm getting myself home as quickly as possible after I'm out," was all I added.

"I wish my parents would pick me up tonight," Ashley complained, "It's not a good idea for me to drive in this stuff." "It's not a good idea for my mom to drive in this. She's a horrible driver in good weather," said Rachael.

"Well you two can always come home with me, and I'll drive you when the roads clear up," was the best offer I could give them. Surprisingly Rachael seemed interested in my offer, "That wouldn't be a bad idea. I could tell my mom I'm staying at the store for the night because she'd never let me stay at some older guy's house." "If she's that bad of a driver it would definitely be safer for you, but you would be stuck here a little longer until closing time."

"I don't mind. I'd rather be safe than have my mom risk crashing." Ashley added, "So you two having a nice little sleep over then? Maybe I should join." Ashley hated to be left out of things and seemed to try to make herself the center of attention. She came off as the teasing type, but riding out a storm with her and Rachael would make for a much more interesting night than watching movies. "You two clear it with whoever you need to, and I'll get you safely to my house for the night." "Thanks Ted. I'll text my mom now."

Ashley and Rachael made arrangements with their families and were both headed back to my house for the night. Still we would have to make it safely through the storm. The store manager came down shortly after ten and told us we could all leave early (we hadn't had a customer in over an hour) because he didn't want to be the reason we had an extremely risky ride home. To make things even better the carriages could be left for the morning.

We all layered up before heading out to my car. I let Rachael and Ashley into the car, got the heat turned on, and did my best to quickly clear the snow off the car. The ride back to my house was slow without much conversation between the three of us. I did my best to focus on the road while running through the potential scenarios that I could enjoy during this night. The odds of having sex with either girl that night seemed pretty low since it was unlikely I would have a lot of alone time with either of them. Still if alcohol became involved the night could be fun. At the very least I could hope to hear some good stories or get the chance to check out either of their gorgeous asses. The ride to my house normally takes about ten minutes, but thanks to the storm it was closer to 25 minutes before we finally reached my house.

We headed in all relieved to see my porch light on (meaning I had not lost power). The three of us would have an empty house for the night. I figured that it would be best if we all shared the living room for the night just in case the power went out no one would be alone. I set each of them up with pillows, a blanket, and a couch to sleep on (leaving me the floor between the two couches). Obviously I didn't want everyone going to sleep right away, but I wanted to make them feel comfortable.

Ashley: "Thanks Ted. This seems like it will actually be a pretty comfortable place to sleep."

Ted: "I hope you're not ready to go to sleep yet , the night is just starting and we have a storm to ride out."

Ashley: "What did you have in mind?"

Ted: "A little drink to warm us up a bit."

Rachael: "Hot chocolate?"

Ted: "Maybe some special hot chocolate."

Ashley: "I've never mixed anything with hot chocolate. It kind of sounds gross."

Ted: "Yeah it doesn't sound to appeasing. Maybe a simple shot will do."

Rachael: "I don't know about that. I've never drank before."

Ted: "No worries. You don't have to if you don't want to. Ashley and I can have some nice vodka and we'll make you hot cocoa."

Ashley: "That's sounds pretty good to me it's been a long week I need a drink or two."

Rachael: "Well maybe I'll give it a try."

Ted: "That's the spirit."

I grabbed three shot classes from the kitchen before heading to my room to find the vodka. I had the option of going cheap with a bottle of Smirnof or going a little stronger with a bottle of Grey Goose. Clearly I had to go with the stronger drink to make the night more interesting. I returned to the living room and poured each of us a shot. I raised my glass and said, "Cheers!" before downing it. Ashley followed suit quickly downing hers, and Rachael hesitated before finally drinking the shot. She coughed lightly as it went down her throat. I poured another round for the three of us.

Rachael: "I don't think I can do another one of those."

Ted: "Don't worry you'll be able to in a few minutes."

Ashley: "I think I'm going to take a few minutes as well before taking this one."

Ted: "So am I. I'm not looking to get sick just have a good buzz for this storm."

Rachael: "I have a problem."

Ted: "What's that?"

Rachael: "I don't have anything to sleep in later. I can't sleep in jeans and my work shirt."

Ashley: "I have the same problem. Do you have anything we can borrow?"

Ted: "I might have a couple of big t-shirts, but I can't really help you pants-wise."

Ashley: "A t-shirt would help."

Rachael: "As long as it's a big one."

Ted: "I'll go take a look."

I headed back to my room to dig out the perfect shirts for the two of them. I needed something big enough that they would find it useful, but not too big that it easily covered everything. It may have been a morally questionable decision, but it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I eventually found a couple of old Patriots jerseys for them to wear. I returned with the jerseys saying, "I hope these will do," as I tossed one to each of them. I smiled when I noticed that Ashley had finished her second shot.

Ashley: "Yeah I guess this will be ok."

Rachael: "Thanks."

Ashley: "We should play a game."

Rachael: "I'd rather watch a movie."

Ted: "A game sounds more fun. What type of game are we talking about?"

Ashley: "Truth or dare."

Ted: "I haven't played that in years. I like it."

Rachael: "I guess I can play for a little bit."

Ted: "Then it's decided. Do you two want to change first or just start playing?"

Ashley: "I'll change. Where's the bathroom?"

Ted: "Through the kitchen first door on your left."

The girls both head towards the bathroom as I headed to my room to change as well. A few minutes later we were all back in the living room sitting in a circle on the floor. Each of us was wrapped in a blanket to stay warm. I was comfortably situated in shorts and a t-shirt while each girl had only a jersey on over their bras and panties. Sadly I hadn't gotten a good look at either before they wrapped up their lower halves in blankets.

Ashley: "This was my idea so Rachael, truth or dare?"

Rachael: "Truth I guess."

Ashley: "Do you prefer to give or receive?"

Rachael: "Presents? Receive I always love giving gifts. I hope that's what you meant."

Ashley: "We'll go with that. Now it's your turn Rachael."

Rachael: "Ted, truth or dare?"

Ted: "Dare."

Rachael: "I dare you to take my shot."

Ted: "Easy enough."

Rachael: "And yours."

Ted: "Now that's more like it." I gulped down my shot, took a breath, and then managed to get down a third shot. Instantly I was feeling the effects of the drinks and a little bolder because of it. "Rachael, truth or dare?"

Rachael: "Truth."

Ted: "How old where you when you first had sex?"

Rachael: "Umm...I don't know. I don't wanna answer that one."

Ted: "That means you have to do a shot then."

Ashley: "And it means she's a virgin."

Rachael turned beat red (even more noticeable because of her pale skin). She silently took a second shot before turning to Ashley, "Truth or dare?"

Ashley: "Dare."

Rachael: "I dare you to take another shot."

Ted: "It seems like all Rachael wants to do is get us all drunk. I think we'll give this one to Ashley and then put my good stuff away."

Ashley nodded her agreement as she took another shot. "Ted, truth or dare?"

Ted: "Truth."

Ashley: "Do you think Rachael is a virgin?"

Ted: "Yes. Rachael, truth or dare?"

Rachael: "Truth."

Ted: "Are you a virgin?"

Rachael: "Yes. Ashley, truth or..."

Ted: "Why? Are you waiting for marriage or something?"

Rachael: "Hey that's two questions, but no I'm not."

Ted: "I don't understand then. You should be able to have sex with pretty much any guy in your high school."

Ashley: "Yeah, Rachael you're hot. And dare"

Rachael blushed a deep purple this time before giving Ashley her dare, "I dare you to kiss any part of Ted's body that is not his face."

Ashley looked over at me and gently pulled up my shirt to look at my chest. She seemed to be deciding where she wanted to kiss me before taking my hand. She pulled me closer to her only to raise my hand to her lips and kiss it. She smiled seductively at me afterwards knowing I had expected more. "Ted, truth or dare?" "Dare." "I dare you to grab Rachael's boob. See that's how you make a dare, Rachael." I didn't hesitate as I reached out and grabbed Rachel's left boob giving it a gentle squeeze. I could feel the material of her bra through the jersey. "Ashley, truth or dare?" "Dare." "I dare you to steal Rachel's jersey."

Rachael: "Why am I the one losing here?"

Ashley: "You can either toss me the jersey or I will have to come over there."

Rachael: "This doesn't seem fair."

Ashley: "Make your choice."

Rachel reluctantly pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it to Ashley. I didn't get the joy of seeing the two of them wrestle over the jersey, but Rachael was left in her blue bra that gave me a view of plenty of cleavage. I shifted to avoid making my growing erection obvious under the blankets. "That's much better. Ted, truth or dare?" "Dare." "I dare you to lose the blanket and your shorts." "You want me to sit in the cold in only boxers and a t-shirt?" "Yes." I was left with no choice. I tossed the blanket to the side and took off my shorts making it much harder to hide my arousal. I could only hope nothing poked through. "Ashley, truth or dare?" "Truth." 

Ted: "What's the most you've ever done with someone of the same sex?" 

Ashley: "Another girl once went down on me, but I've never done anything to another girl."

Ted: "How was it?"

Ashley: "Not as good as I expected. We were both pretty drunk, but enough about me. Rachael, truth or dare?"

Rachael: "Dare."

Ashley: "I want you to give Ted an erection. It should be pretty easy to tell in those boxers when you've succeeded."

Rachael: "How do you want me to do that?"

Ashley: "It's pretty easy to do. Just grab it and give it a stroke."

Rachael: "I'm not giving him a handjob."

Ashley: "I didn't say make him cum. I said give him an erection."

Ted: "Rachael I can make this pretty easy for you. Just show some boob and I'll be there."

Ashley: "Don't be that nice to him. Tell him something sexual or talk about his cock. I bet that will do it."

Rachael: "Ted, I've never had sex because I'm too good at blow jobs. I love sucking a cock and I love making guys cum."

The image of Rachael's lips on my dick was all it took to get me hard, and there was no hiding it this time. "Wow that wasn't even true, I'm glad it was that simple. Ted, truth or dare?"

Ted: "Truth."

Rachael: "Who would you rather see naked Ashley or me?"

Ted: "That's pretty easy. I'd rather see you naked."

Ashley: "Why is that so easy?"

Ted: "Bigger boobs and a bigger ass."

Ashley: "Ouch."

Rachael: "Thank you, Ted."

Ted: "Ashley, truth or dare?"

Ashley: "Dare."

Ted: "I dare you to kiss Rachael with your hand under her bra."

Ashley had to leave the comfort of her blanket to move over to Rachael. She leaned in slowly as Rachael sat wide-eyed not knowing what to expect. The lips met slowly as Ashley slid her hand up Rachael's side before reaching under her bra and cupping her breasts. Ashley leaned more into Rachael giving me a clear view of her ass that was barely covered by her panties. She was soon on top of Rachael and her hips were sliding up and down as they continued to kiss. I couldn't believe my eyes, and then suddenly it was over.

Ashley: "I hope that was what you were expecting because now I need to get some sleep."

Ted: "You're ending the game just like that?"

Ashley: "I'm really tired and that vodka is wearing me down. I think you've seen enough of a show tonight."

Rachael: "I should probably get some sleep too."

Ted: "Well alright. I guess we're all going to sleep. I gotta go to the bathroom anyways."

Ashley: "I bet you he's going to beat off in there."

Ted: "No I'm not."

Ashley: "We'll know when you come back without that erection."

Rachael: "Ashley he's not gonna do that now with both of us here."

I walked out of the room knowing that Ashley was right, and there was no way I was going to be able to sleep without taking care of myself. After watching that brief show I was not going to sleep with blue balls. I closed the door tightly behind me as I entered the bathroom. I faced the toilet and started to stroke my cock. I knew it wouldn't take long as I pictured Ashley writhing on top of Rachael with her tongue in Rachael's mouth. The image of Ashley's almost bare ass ran through my head when I was quickly taken back to earth at the sound of the door opening. I turned in time to see Rachael quickly turn away yelling back to Ashley, "He's doing it!" I pulled my pants back up and followed Rachael back to living room somewhat embarrassed (lessened when I saw her thong covered ass as she still hadn't put the jersey back on).

Ted: "What are you doing coming in the bathroom?"

Ashley: "I thinking you were the one cumming in the bathroom."

Rachael: "Ashley dared me to open the door, and she bet me you were doing that."

Ashley: "I knew I was right. Now I need another truth. Which one of us were you picturing?"

Ted: "I..uhh..no you can't just walk in on me."

Ashley: "Answer the question or we tell everyone at work we caught you jerking off."

Ted: "Well..umm..mostly Ashley."

Ashley: "You mean the one you didn't want to see naked is good enough to cum for?"

Ted: "Well...yeah...I mean...I don't know...you didn't exactly let me finish."

Ashley: "So now what are you gonna do? You gonna do what I say and jerk off for me?"

Rachael: "What?"

Ashley: "Ted's gonna do what we want him to do. When a guy is close to cumming he'll do almost anything to finish off."

Ted: "What exactly are we talking about here?"

Ashley: "It's simple if you cum before I say so then everyone will hear about this."

Ted: "So what do I have to do?"

Ashley: "I can tell by your cock you're pretty excited about where this might be going."

Ted: "It's hard to help that, and I don't know how long you expect me to hold out here."

Ashley: "We'll start with this simply. You're going to take off the boxers lay on your blanket on the floor and you're going to make Rachael cum."

The situation suddenly seemed like it would become more than I ever could have hoped. I tried to play it like I didn't want to listen. I pretended to be reluctant taking off my boxers a laying down on the floor as Ashley wanted. Rachael stripped off her panties (leaving the bra on) and with guidance from Ashley sat on my face. "Get to work Ted." Ashley knelt down near my legs before suddenly grabbing my cock and holding it against my stomach. She positioned herself on top of me trapping my cock between my stomach and her ass cheeks. Too much sudden movement from her and I would have came easily. Still I had did my best to focus on Rachael who now appeared to be in on Ashley's plan. I moved my hands onto Rachael's ass and pushed her forward against my tongue. From this position I couldn't too much other than use my tongue. 

I attacked Rachael's pussy hungrily working my tongue in and out. When Rachael let out a soft moan Ashley wiggled her hips and the sensation of her ass brushing up against my cock was heavenly. I continued to work on Rachael gently biting her clit before continuing the work with my tongue. Rachael's moans become more frequent and when Ashley moved my hips involuntarily thrust upward against her ass. I wanted to cum badly, but did my best to hold off. I could tell Rachael was getting closer as she started to grind against my face. 

Ashley: "That's it Rachael. Cum baby, I wanna hear you cum all over Ted's face."

Rachael: "Ohhh yeaaa! Ohh Ted right there! Yes!"

I pulled Rachel's cunt into my face and felt her legs lock around my head as her body spasmed in orgasm. She slowly fell back into Ashley and I finally was able to breath normally again. My cock was still pressed between Ashley's ass and I was ready to cum.

Ted: "Now it's my turn?"

Ashley: "Oh you wanna cum badly don't you Ted?"

Ted: "You have no idea."

Ashley: "Good. Do as I say and Rachael will make you cum."

Ted: "Ok."

Ashley: "Sit up in that couch, and put your boxers back on. You'll get to cum, but you have to deal with your own mess."

Ted: "So then what's Rachael gonna do?"

Ashley: "I know you like strip clubs. The only difference is this dance has happy ending."

I liked the sound of that as I quickly pulled my boxers back on and sat on the couch. Rachael stood now fully naked in front of me. Finally I could see her tits and they were as amazing as I had hoped. She straddled across my lap and let her leg rub against my cock through the soft material of my boxers. I was enjoying the sensation of her leg against me as her tits pressed into my face. I could feel her wet pussy sliding across my thigh. I fought the temptation to grab her and pull her into me. I wanted to enjoy as much as I could. She stood up suddenly and turned away from me. She slowly moved back down driving her ass against my erection. My cock slipped through the hole in my boxers leaving my cock against the cool skin of her ass. I couldn't hold off much longer. I put hands on her hips and pulled her against me with my dick firmly between her ass cheeks. She moved her hips faster and faster as I started to thrust against her. I looked down to enjoy the view of her ass as I shot my first blast of cum on her ass. When she felt the first shot of cum she drove her ass hard against me and held it there as I shot another rope of cum onto her. She gave her hips a slight wiggle with each spurt. 


A Winter Storm



When I finally finished cumming she stood up and smiled at me.

Ashley: "Looks like someone made a mess, and for that there's more work for you to do."

Ted: "What's that?"

Ashley: "You need to take care of me...



A Winter Story



Patti and I had been out on the town. We did a lot of bar hopping in the early days of our marriage. She is a foxy redhead, with the kind of hair that has every color possible in it. 

Patti loved to wear the criss-cross tops that let her breasts show, often all the way to her nipples. She liked the attention. The simple fact is, I also liked it, it was a turn-on.

This one evening we had been at a local topless watering hole, Patti had gotten up on the stage and danced a few songs. Those were the days when G-strings and pasties were the norm, so Patti had just stripped to her thin bra and panties, but that was enough to get the whole room jumping!

When it came time to leave, we were surprised to find it was snowing, and we had several miles to drive out into the Country. Being a bit under the influence, I decided to try it, instead of being smart and just getting a room.

We were within a few miles of our house, when the weather got so bad that all forward motion came to a stop.

I managed to get the car off to the shoulder, and noticed a house just a few hundred feet away, with the lights on. I bundled up to walk over there, in the hopes of borrowing some blankets to help us survive the cold night. A young man answered the door, and wouldn't hear of anything less than us spending the night there, so we took him up on it.

Patti and I came in to warm up, and the young man introduced himself as Terry. Then another young man, Dan came out, followed by a young woman named Susan.

We exchanged greetings all around, I noticed Dan checked Patti out as she slipped off her coat. Patti's dress was a bit short for winter wear, and her breasts we obvious through the loose top and thin bra she was wearing.

We all sat around and chatted, and I noticed Dan was still showing quite an interest in Patti, who by this time could best be described as soused! We had a few more drinks, finally it was time to bed down for the night.

Terry and Susan got out some blankets, Patti took the couch and I took a spot on the floor. Patti was in rather poor shape by this time, and was out like a light in seconds. Terry and Susan went off the one bedroom, and Dan went to the other. I soon fell asleep.

Some time later, I woke up, feeling a bit too warm. Something made me glance towards the couch, and I could just make out a figure standing over Patti in the dark. I started to say something, then kept quiet, curious what he was doing. There was a small nightlight across the room, and when he turned to check and see if I was still asleep, I saw it was Dan, standing there in just his underwear.

Patti was still out cold.

I pretended to be out, too, so Dan turned back to Patti. She had slipped out of her dress and bedded down in just her bra and panties, and I watched as Dan reached out and slowly slipped the sheet off her upper body. Then he stopped and waited, to be sure she was out. A moment later, he reached forward and lifted up on the bottom of her bra, and slid it up off her breast on one side. I almost chuckled, it was way too dark to see much. But he had prepared, he had a tiny little pushbutton light in his hand!

He turned the light so it shined down on her nipple, away from her face and stood there for a long time. Then he reached out and lifted the other side off her breast, and took another good look. Patti didn't move. I was starting to feel an erection growing, here was a fantasy happening right in front of me!

Gaining courage, Dan reached down and stroked Patti's breast, she let out a little moan, and he started and pulled his hand back quickly. But she didn't move, so he began again. Soon he was feeling her nipples, first one, then the other..This went on for quite some time.

Then he covered her back up, and reached down and slowly lifted the sheet above her waist. Patti was laying with her hips slightly turned, her left leg atop her right. Dan reached down and lifted her right hip a little, and Patti just shifted by herself to flat on her back! He was shining the light right on the crotch of her thin panties.

He turned the light out, and reached up with both hands, and started to slide her panties down! It was hard for me to see, but I am sure she lifted her hips to help! Still, she showed no signs of awakening.

Dan touched her right knee, and Patti allowed her leg to be pushed over easily, still no response. The light came on again, and I knew Dan was being treated to the sight of Patti's red hair covered pussy in plain view!

Then he surprised me and left the room! A minute or so later, I heard low voices, and both Dan and Terry came back into the room. Terry walked into the little kitchen, and turned on the light. This bathed the couch in light but left me still in the dark of the room. Terry looked at me long and hard, I was watching him through slitted eyes, but he saw no sign of movement, so he returned his attention to Patti.

They both looked at her for a long time, the Dan reached down and rubbed Patti's pussy. She let out a moan and he stopped. Then he did it again, another moan, I heard Terry say "She is out for the count, I think".

By now Dan had his index finger inside her, and was finger-fucking her nicely. Patti's hips were actually moving up to meet him!

Terry slid his shorts down, revealing a rock hard 7" cock, and he simply climbed up on top of Patti and started to fuck her! Her eyes were closed, I wasn't sure now, she was fucking him back furiously! Soon Terry was done, and Dan climbed on and began to fuck her, too!

This went on for several minutes, he seemed to be in no hurry, and her hips came up to meet every thrust.

Finally he was done, too! Terry went and got some tissue and wiped Patti up, then they pulled the covers back over her and slipped out of the room.

I dozed then, off and on, then a few hours later I woke up to a sound. Dan was fucking Patti again! The covers lay on the floor beside the couch, her bra was pushed up over her breasts, Dan was licking and nuzzling her nipples as he screwed her! I am sure I saw her eyes open and look at him, then glance my way, then she went right back to meeting his every thrust. I saw her head go back as she let out a groan as she orgasmed over and over! I watched for a while, not even sure if it was a dream, then finally it was daybreak. I got up and dressed, Patti was still asleep, so I went and looked outside. It had warmed up overnight, so I shook Patti to wake her. She opened her eyes, looked around lost for a second. Then she stretched and sat up. She spotted her panties laying on the couch, and looked at me with a smile...

I can hardly wait until it snows again...



A Winter Story



Prologue.

"I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way, Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring."
(Shelley "The Question")

Chapter 1. The Gardener in Autumn.

Following in the footsteps of my father I became a gardener at a very fortuitous time. With the use of ever more sophisticated equipment on the farms round our village employment prospects on the farms and in the support services in the village declined. This led to many of the inhabitants leaving the village to find work elsewhere. 

Then a sort of reverse process set in. People who had made money in the city started to buy the vacated cottages and houses and use them as places to "get away from it all."

I must say that our village at least looked like a place to "get away from it." Built on a gentle slope that formed one side of a valley, as you approached it along the road that ran along the ridge of the other slope it looked a real picture postcard place, especially when the road dipped down into the valley and you crossed an old stone bridge and entered the village. 

These newcomers rarely lived permanently in the village. They would arrive at weekends and at holidays times, but always went back to wherever it was they made their money. They had the old places modernised and in the process of modernising they wanted their gardens to be kept in order. That was where I came in. The newcomers had idealised and romantic views about village life. What they really craved was a cottage garden; a desire I was able to fulfil very easily. 

I kept my prices reasonable and made a point of being polite, pleasant and helpful with the customers, doing what I could to gain their confidence. This was important because in time, and as the cottage or house was often uninhabited for weeks and even months at a time, they asked me to "keep and eye on the place." A couple of them even went so far as to give me a key so that I could let myself into the house to check up that all was well.

Most of these people were a bit pretentious; always yacking about the latest book they'd read, what was around in the world of art, theatre and so on. A lot of what they said was la-di-dah nonsense, but I was often able to surprise them. I enjoyed reading and had got through quite a lot of literature in my time. 

Of course they thought a gardener should be an ignorant clod and without ruffling their toffee-nosed feathers, if you'll pardon my mixed metaphor, I would let slip something about the latest book I was reading. That seemed to surprise and impress them. 

In addition I'd worked on getting rid of my country accent and taught myself– as my mother put it – to "talk proper." After all, most of these nouveau riche had pasted a fancy accent over an original regional accent. At times it was amusing because if they got annoyed or excited the old accent would come peeping through.

I was about twenty five when dad got an offer that he couldn't resist. He really did know his business, but as he was starting to suffer from arthritis when he was offered a job as what was rather flamboyantly called "A horticultural consultant" – that meant telling people what to plant and not plant – he took it. The trouble was that it meant leaving the village and going to live in the county town, and that left me with the cottage.

Mum and dad had never owned the cottage so it was a matter of paying rent. I'd got a nice comfortable business going, but not wanting to keep paying rent I decided I wouldn't stay in the cottage. I bought a second-hand caravan and parked it in the local caravan park at much lower cost. The park had good facilities and was only very busy for a few months of the year, mainly in the summer.

I suppose I was a bit of an anachronism being a young guy and still living in the village. Most of the young people left for the city to get work, and that included the girls. Had it been around two or three decades back I would probably, like most of the village lads then, have got one of the local girls pregnant and married her. As it was, and having no desire to get married anyway, I had to look elsewhere for my gratification, and that wasn't really hard to get as long as I wasn't too particular about age.

My main source of supply was a widow in her fifties. She was one of only a couple of the older residents whom I gardened for. I'd known her since I was a kid, and it only took a few exchanges of compliments to admit me to her bed.

These exchanges went something like this - 

Her: "I don't understand why a nice looking and pleasant young fellow like you is still living in this place." 

Me: "I like it here and I've got plenty of work, and anyway, I don't understand why a handsome woman like you hasn't remarried." 

That brought a flush of pleasure to her face and the protest, "Oh, I don't look all that good." Of course I was supposed to contradict that, and I did, promptly.

In fact she didn't look too bad in a motherly sort of way and it didn't take long for me to be climbing into her bed. She was a fortunate choice because she not only knew how to please a man, but she taught me how to please a woman. 

There were a few others but these were the wives of the newcomers. I played it smart and never went for the young ones; I stuck to the forty pluses. Some of these women would spend a bit of time in their "country residence" without their husbands, and it was surprising how ruttish some of them were, and with husbands busy making money in the city they needed a bit of servicing. 

The widow had given me some good training and I thought I knew how to get on side with women, especially the older ones who were growing uncertain about their attractions. Being polite and helpful quickly got me into their favour; then a few carefully phrased and not too obvious compliments sooner or later had them opening their legs for me.

I think that a lot of them had read "Lady Chatterley's Lover" and fancied what they thought of as "a bit of rough." I don't think I was particularly rough – except with those who asked me to hurt them – but I always made sure I left them well satisfied and wanting more.

Some of them wanted to give me money, usually by way of offering to pay a bit more for the gardening and odd jobs I did for them, but I always said no to this. That way they felt that I really did think they were attractive and that when I said they were beautiful I meant it. Refusing the money also meant I didn't feel like a gigolo, but there were fringe benefits like drinks, meals and nights spent in comfortable beds instead of the bunk in my old caravan.

Chapter 2. Meeting Mrs. Copper.

One day I was working in Miss Libby's garden. She was an old resident and had been one of our school teachers. She was in her seventies and I looked after her garden at a cut rate. 

Next door was a place called "Green Lane Cottage." The previous owner had recently sold it. It had originally been two semi-detached cottages that had been made into one and been expensively modernised. From what I heard his business had gone bankrupt and he'd had to sell the place. 

One thing he hadn't got around to dealing with was the garden. He had never employed me or anyone else to look after the garden, and it was a shambles of weeds, overgrown hedges, unpruned fruit trees and the litter of several autumns left lying around.

The place had been sold complete with furniture but no one knew who the new owner was. Then as I was pottering around Miss Libby's place I saw a car pull up outside Green Lane Cottage. A woman got out and even at a distance her stance gave the impression of someone who was weary.

She stood looking at the cottage for a minute or so, and then opened the boot of the car and started with some difficulty to drag out suitcases.

Always on the lookout for some extra work, and given the state of the garden, I thought there might be a bit of business in it for me, so I approached her and said "Good morning."

She looked at me, I thought a bit suspiciously, and said cautiously, "Good morning."

The weariness I had detected at a distance was confirmed when close up. She looked somewhat fragile, her face very pale, haggard and drawn. She appeared to be in her mid thirties to early forties but I could see by the fine bone structure of her face that she must have been a good looking woman when younger. 

Her figure was potentially good, but her drooping posture spoilt it. She was a brunette and her hair was long but had a lacklustre and unkempt appearance. Her dark brown eyes must have once been her best facial feature, but now they had a beaten look and dark blotches underneath them added to her general appearance of fatigue.

"She's been ill," I thought, "Something or someone has given her a bad time."

She asked rather defensively, "Is there something you want?"

"No...no, I replied; I was working in the garden next door and I saw you pull up, so I thought I'd come across and introduce myself. "I'm Edward Morris and I'm one of the older residents here." Indicating the cottage I asked, "You're the new owner?"

"Yes."

"Then welcome to the village. I noticed you lifting those suitcases; they look rather heavy, can I give you a hand?"

"I don't think..." she started to say, but I butted in.

"It's okay; I'll just carry them as far as the front door. We all help each other out around here."

"You live next door?" she asked. 

I smiled and said, "No, I was just working in the garden; that's what I do, I'm a gardener. Come on, let me help you."

She stared at me searchingly for a few moments, as if trying to make up her mind if I was going to mug her. I smiled back at her, and then she said, "Well thank you, I do find them a bit heavy. By the way, I'm Nicola Copper."

She extended her hand to me and having noticed wedding and engagement rings on her left hand; I shook hands with her and said, "Pleased to meet you Mrs. Copper, I'm Edward Morris."

I grabbed a couple of suitcases and as she went to take another one from the car boot I said, "No, leave it to me, I'll carry your stuff up to the door; you just go and open up."

She made no objection and I followed her up the path to the cottage. I left her to open the door and returning to the car I brought another suitcase and a large cardboard box. With what was in the boot and on the back seat of the car it took several trips to carry all her stuff, and it was on the second trip when standing just inside the door she said, "This is silly, why don't you bring it straight in instead of leaving it outside?"

"Happy to, Mrs. Copper," I said cheerfully and went in. 

The place had been unused for some time and it had a damp cold feel about it. "Needs the fire lighting I said, would you like me to do it when I've finished bringing your things in?"

"Would you?" she asked, "I don't want to impose, but I've never had to light an open fire."

"Ah, used to electric fires are you?"

"Gas actually."

"I'll get it going as soon as I've finished the carrying."

A couple more trips and everything was in. I went out the back of the cottage and found some remnants of fuel and carrying in some bark for kindling I got the fire started. It was one of those modern affairs with a hood over it and it was no difficulty getting it going. Actually most of the old inhabitants had gas or electric fires, but the newcomers liked to have log fires; they thought it was very rural. This meant that our local fuel merchant could grossly overcharge.

Having made a reasonable start with Mrs. Copper I decided I wouldn't push my luck, so I said, 'Well, if there's nothing more I can do for you, I'd better get back to work."

She started to fumble in her handbag saying, "I'd like to give you something for your trouble."

"Good heavens no, Mrs. Copper, I just happened to see you arrive and thought I'd introduce myself and give you a bit of a hand. I wouldn't dream of letting you pay me."

"Well, in that case, thank you very much Mr. Morris, you've been most kind."

"Not at all, always glad to help out, and by the way, it's Edward, everybody calls me Edward. If there's anything else I can help you with, just let me know; I'll be working next door for another hour. Oh, and in case you do need help later here's my card."

The card gave my name, occupation, address at the caravan park and my mobile number.

She took the card, glanced at it, but made no comment. 

As she accompanied me to the door I gestured towards the garden and said, "Bit of the mess isn't it; the previous owner didn't seem to be bothered."

"Yes," she sighed, "when I came to look at the cottage before I bought it and saw the garden I thought what a ruin it is, I think it's almost past redemption. It nearly caused me not to buy the place, but the cottage itself is so beautiful."

"Oh," I said cheerfully, "I wouldn't say the garden it past redemption."

I'd baited the hook, but long ago I had learned that a bit of patience, not being too pushy, often worked the trick. I left the subject of the garden and departed from Mrs. Copper saying, "It's been delightful to meet you, Mrs. Copper, and don't forget if you need a hand, just call me on the mobile."

I returned to Miss Libby's garden satisfied that I'd made a good impression.

Chapter 3. An Arrangement

It was about 10-30 next morning when my mobile moaned.

"Mr. Morris...er...Edward, I've been thinking about the garden and wondered if I could talk it over with you? I am returning to town tomorrow, so if we could meet..."

"No problem," I interrupted, "Suppose I drop by about three this afternoon and we can talk about it and...if you don't mind I might be able to give you a few ideas about what could be done with it."

"That is kind of you Edward; I don't doubt that you've got other work to do but it..."

"There's no difficulty," I assured her, "and it'll be a pleasure to see you again."

I wondered if I'd overstepped the mark with that last bit but no reaction registered over the mobile so I decided it had been accepted. Nevertheless I told myself, "Take it easy, Edward, one little step at a time, don't frighten the game and start it running away."

3 p.m. and I was at the cottage door to be welcomed with a wan smile, but at least it was a smile. We wandered round the garden for about half an hour and it really was a wilderness. Like the rest of the newcomers she said she wanted a cottage garden; hollyhocks, snap dragons, daffodils and all that kind of stuff. 

"Roses?" I enquired, "A climbing rose would look great on that wall."

"Yes...yes...you're right Edward. I'll have climbing roses."

When we finished our walk around we went into the cottage and I drew up a sketch plan of what I managed to make her think were her ideas, but they were really mine. 

"I can't spend a fortune," she said.

"No fortune involved," I replied reassuringly. "You'd be surprised how much can be done for relatively little money, but don't you want to talk it over with Mr. Copper?"

She glanced down at her rings, hesitated for a moment and then said in a monotone, "There isn't a Mr. Copper, or there won't be shortly."

"Don't push it, Edward," I admonished myself. "Let it ride for a while, get her trust and she'll tell all if and when she's ready to."

I gave her an initial price for clearing up the wilderness and for new plantings. The price I gave her was less than I would usually charge, and then I told her that it would need a couple of hours a week to keep things up to scratch.

"Does that sound reasonable?" I asked.

"That's very reasonable, Edward," she said, "but are you sure that..."

"That's my price," I replied, smiling.

There was a little plan formulating in my mind; a plan that required me to set aside immediate profit for longer term gains. I took one further small step in the plan when I said, "If you're going away tomorrow, and if you don't mind, I could get started straightaway on the initial work. How long will you be gone?"

"I'm not sure," she replied; "two, perhaps three weeks."

"Wonderful." I said, "when you come back you'll be amazed at how different the garden will look, and while I'm working here I can keep an eye on the place, I do that for a number of people who don't live here permanently; some of them even let me have the key to their place so I can take look around inside. How does that sound?"

"It sounds excellent."

She sounded enthusiastic enough, but she didn't take up the bit about a key.

"Now as our arrangements are made," she said, "would you like to have a drink with me?"

"That's very kind of you Mrs. Copper," I replied, making sure I sounded grateful.

"I'm afraid I haven't got much in at the moment, but I'm going to have a vodka and orange."

"That'll do fine," I told her.

We had been sitting at a desk in what I suppose had been a study or office. As she left the room to make the drinks I started to have a look around. There were book shelves with only three or four books on them. I suppose the books that had been there had been sold separately by the previous owner. 

I casually looked at the books that were there. "The World was My Oyster," by Nicola Copper; "The Heat of Love," by Nicola Copper; when she had first told me her name it had rung a distant bell but I couldn't think why. I'd never read any of her books, but now I recalled that I'd seen her name on books in the public library.

I sat down before she returned and said nothing about my discovering her identity. 

She handed me my drink and I said, "Thank you Mrs. Copper."

She gave me a curious searching look for a moment and then said, "I think you might call me Nicola. By the way, my married name isn't Copper; Copper was my name before I got married."

I let that pass and asked, "Will you be coming and going frequently?"

She became thoughtful and replied, "I'm not sure. It depends on how I like country life."

"Very healthy," I laughed.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

She hesitated again looking at my face searchingly, then went on, "I've been ill recently and things have been very difficult."

"Don't push it, Edward," I thought, and sounding as sympathetic as I could I said, "I'm sorry to hear that, Nicola, perhaps we can help make life better for you here."

On the basis that it's always better to leave them wanting more, I went on, "Thank you for the drink; I really must be going; but it'll be okay if I start work tomorrow?"

"Yes, I would be very grateful."

"Oh, by the way," I added, "with winter coming on would you like me to order some fuel for you?"

"Would you Edward that is kind; I'll give you some money; how much...?"

"No...no...that's all right Nicola, I'll pay the fuel merchant and you can pay me when you get back."

"Are you sure Edward, I mean, I believe it's quite expensive and..."

"No problem," I assured her. 

In fact it was going to strain my budget severely, but I didn't want to give her the impression that I was hard up.

We parted on a very friendly note, I telling her how much I looked forward to seeing her again and she saying she could hardly wait to see what I'd done with the garden. I would have preferred that she told me she was looking forward to seeing me, but I suppose it was early days and wanting to see my work in the garden was the next best thing.

I made a point of not seeing her before she left the next day; "Better to leave her with the impression she'd already got of me," I decided; "it'll give her something to think about."

Chapter 4. The Gardener in Winter.

Next morning I went to the public library and I got out some of her books, and over the next couple of weeks I ploughed my way through them. I suppose they could be categorised as historical novels, well researched and with some psychological depth, but written in a rather heavy handed way.

Apart from the reading I set to work on the garden, fitting it in around my other jobs. I pruned, trimmed, dug and disposed of a mountain of accumulated rubbish and garden waste. 




A Winter Story



The fuel merchant delivered the firewood and I nearly impoverished myself paying him.

I made the trellis that would eventually carry the climbing roses. It was not a time for planting but I prepared some crocus, jonquil, daffodil and tulip beds, and made everything as ready as possible for spring planting. In short, I was determined to make a strong impression on Nicola through deeds rather than words; words could come later.

I was there still working in the garden when Nicola returned to the cottage. She got out of the car and looked around; she gasped and said, "Edward, you've worked wonders, I'd never have believed it could look as good as this. You are clever."

I shrugged and said casually, "It's just a matter of knowing what your doing and putting a bit of effort in." A little modesty can pay big dividends at times.

"Well, you've certainly put a lot of effort into this," she said, "and as soon as I've unloaded you must take me round and explain what you've done."

She opened the boot of the car and it was filled with cardboard cartons. She went to pick one up and I said, "You leave that to me, they look heavy."

"Would you, Edward. It's mainly books and they are very heavy."

And so I started to carry the cartons in, and she was right, they were heavy.

It was a cold day and the cottage, having been unoccupied for a couple of weeks, again had that damp, dank feel that empty places have, especially old places like this one.

"As soon as I've brought your things in," I said, "I'll get that fire started for you."

"Oh would you; you really are helpful Edward."

"My pleasure," I told her. "Oh, by the way, the fuel has been delivered."

"Wonderful, I must settle up with you before you go."

"No hurry; when you're ready."

I got the rest of the stuff from the car and lit the fire and then got invited to have a drink.

In the study Nicola announced that she intended to spend quite a bit of time at the cottage since she could do her work just well here as in town. That gave me my cue.

"I've realised who you are Nicola. You're the author, Nicola Copper, aren't you?"

She looked at me in surprise. "You've heard of me?"

"Of course I've heard of you and read some of your books, and if you don't mind my saying so, I found them to be both profound and stimulating. You have the most powerful insights into people, their motives and their actions." 

That was a bit of exaggerated flattery.

A slight flush spread over her pale face and it was clear she was both pleased and surprised that I, a gardener, had read her works.

"You...you like my books? Some people say they're difficult to read."

"Not at all; I put you alongside some of great female authors, Jane Austen, the Brontes, George Eliot."

"Agatha Christie?"

I could see I needed to play that one carefully. 

"Well of course, I've read some her books but they're bit too light weight for my taste."

"You really like reading?"

"Yes, although I don't always stick to novels. I like biographies and autobiographies and I take a bit of an interest in philosophy." 

That was something of an exaggeration since my sole interest in the subject had been via a small book bought at a church bazaar that summarised the ideas of philosophers from Plato to Bertrand Russell. I was quite capable for talking on many of these philosophers for at least thirty seconds. I hoped I wasn't gilding the lily too much.

She looked at me appraisingly for a few seconds and then said, "You're an unusual young man, Edward."

"Oh, why?"

"Perhaps unexpected is a better word; you're obviously a good gardener, you're kind and considerate, well read and...and..."

I could see she'd talked herself into a corner and didn't know how to get out of it without sounding snobbish so I thought I'd better rescue her.

"I suppose I am a bit different from most gardeners, but ever since I was a kid I've been interested in things academic, but I've never really wanted to go down that track. My father was a gardener and I suppose it's in my blood, you know, the beauty of nature, the open air."

"Yes...yes, I can understand that. I once met an eminent historian who really wanted to be farmer."

I wondered why, if he wanted to be a farmer he wasn't a farmer instead of an historian, but I let that one go.

I had the feeling I was heading into deep waters, intellectually speaking, and was wondering how I might, as it were, change channels. Fortunately it was Nicola who did the changing.

"I think I should settle up with you, would a cheque be all right?"

"Fine, I've made out the bill."

She paid me for my work so far plus the fuel bill and I asked, "Would you like to take a closer look at the garden now."

"Love to," she replied eagerly.

As we went around with me showing what I'd done and how things would look when spring arrived she demonstrated more eager animation than I'd seen since first meeting her. I thought the moment might have arrived to take another step.

By the way," I began, "I am able to do odd jobs around the place. "You know, clear blocked waste pipes, change tap washers, that sort of thing, so any time..."

"You're a young man of many parts, Edward; I'll bear that in mind."

I was on the verge of making another move in the game, but thought I'd work on getting her trust for a bit longer. 

"I'd better leave you now, Nicola," I said, hoping I'd put the right note of regret into the words. "I've got another job to go to."

As I said that, it occurred to me there would be no harm in laying the ground for my next move, so I went on, "There's a couple arriving from town this afternoon to stay for a few days, and I've got a key to their place. They let me know when they're arriving and I light the fire for them in winter so the place is warmed up when they arrive."

It wasn't true since what I really had to do was go and clear up some autumn leaves from one of the newcomers places, but I thought it might make the right impression. 

As I left Nicola thanked me again for my work and helpfulness and I got the feeling she would have liked me to stay longer. 

As I raked away at the dead leaves that afternoon I thought about Nicola. I knew virtually nothing about her except that she was a relatively well-known author and the few little things she'd let drop.

She had been unwell, although in what way I didn't know. There was a husband who would soon cease to be her husband; that of course implied divorce. Since she'd bought the cottage, and unlike some of my other clients had made no difficulty about paying me, I decided she was not without some reasonable financial resources.

Above all, and without quite knowing why, I got the feeling she was lonely. I'd always pictured authors as having lots of friends and acquaintances, and going to book launching parties and book signings. Loneliness was not something I associated with book writers. But the feeling was there, this was a lonely woman.

The main thing as far as I was concerned at that time, was the business that might come my way from her presence in the cottage.

Having cleared up her garden and since winter was almost upon us, gardening work was a bit slow. There was some pruning and the odd jobs that I was asked to do, and I got a small retainer from a couple of my clients for keeping an eye on their places, but until nature went mad in the spring I was on a fairly tight budget.

It was a hard winter but I spent a couple of hours a week at Nicola's cottage pottering around and making suggestions like establishing a vegetable garden out the back. Nicola came and went, usually saying she was going to see her literary agent. I gathered she had a flat in town, but her stays at Green Lane Cottage became more extended.

Our relationship developed into something like a friendship. Whenever I was at her cottage I was always offered a drink before I left and a couple of times I stayed for lunch. 

I noticed that Nicola's pallor had diminished and some colour appeared in her cheeks, and her stance had become more upright and her walk more purposeful. The dark smudges under her eyes disappeared, and I came to see that she really was an attractive woman. My earlier guess at her age settled down to mid thirties or early forties.

Our conversations had generally avoided the personal; being focused mainly on literature, village comings and goings and the latest national news, and of course the garden. Then one day an event occurred that moved our relationship one step further.

It was a freezing cold day and I was trying to get warm in my caravan having no particular job to get on with. My mobile buzzed and it was Nicola in something of a panic. Her water pipes had frozen, could I come and unfreeze them. 

I made my way to her cottage and pointing out that unfreezing pipes was a touchy job, since in the process a pipe might burst, I took a look at them. Some of them had been lagged, obviously by the previous owner, but he had left the job half done. I offered to unfreeze the pipes and then complete the lagging.

I took the opportunity to point out that had she been in town when the freeze took place, and then if the weather warmed up, she might have had burst pipes and arrived back to a flooded cottage. It was then she asked, "Do you think I should give you a key to the place, Edward, so you can keep an eye on things for me?"

As if I had never mention the matter of a key before I said, "That's a good idea Nicola, and if you always let me know when you're coming back I can have the fire lit and the place warm and tidy."

I got the key and thereafter I paid regular visits to the cottage when Nicola was away. 

Chapter 5. Research Pays

Generally I took little interest in my clients' private lives, but Nicola intrigued me. When I went to the cottage I started to take a good look around, trying to find out more about her. I suppose I was being horribly sneaky but I really did want to try and find out what sort of a woman she was.

I was entranced by the delicate underwear I found in a couple of drawers in her bedroom and for the first time I started to get a sexy image of Nicola.

The book shelves were now full, and when I hadn't much in the way of work to do I'd have browse through her library, trying to memorise a few passages from different books to throw into any conversation I had with her.

More interesting was what I found in the bottom draw of her desk. This seemed to be reserved for matters dealing with her upcoming divorce and letters from her husband.

From these letters I gathered that one afternoon Nicola had returned home unexpectedly to find her husband, Jeremy, in bed with a girl. In the letters it was clear that Jeremy wanted to be forgiven - wanted her to take him back. 

Looking at the dates on the letters I could see that as the time for their divorce drew nearer his pleading grew more abject. He constantly declared his undying love for her, and referred to something mysterious that he called, "Your condition," that had led him to be unfaithful, and he was desperately sorry for what had happened as a result of his behaviour. 

I could almost feel sorry for the poor sod, but I would have loved to know what Nicola replied, if she did. Clearly my early conjecture that she had been badly hurt was proving to be accurate.

In another draw were letters from her literary agent. It seemed that the agent, Janet, was as much a friend as an agent. She obviously knew about Nicola's marital problems and counselled her to be strong and not give in to Jeremy's pleadings, adding that Nicola should not in future get herself tangled up with men younger than her self who only wanted to exploit her. Janet added that Nicola might consider not getting tangled up with men at all, and I wondered if Janet was a hopeful lesbian.

In a couple of Janet's letters I found myself being briefly referred to. Clearly Nicola had mentioned me to Janet, and much to my chagrin Janet counselled Nicola to be "careful my dear. He may be kind and helpful and he may be as good looking as you say, but surely by now you must have learned that men are not to be trusted."

There were other comments in a similar vein about me, and since I was sneakily prying into Nicola's private affairs some of them were probably true. I suppose one might add to the old saying, "Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves," so I suppose prying into peoples private correspondence means you don't read any good about your self. 

Nevertheless, Nicola obviously hadn't taken any notice of Janet's advice, and had trusted me with a key to her house, untrustworthy though I was proving to be.

One thing Janet's letters indicated to me was that Nicola was more interested in me than I had suspected. Friendly and hospitable yes, but I had not thought beyond that; was there something more to it? That question made me start thinking about how I felt about Nicola. 

I had no problems when it came to sex with my fifty year old comfort lady and the other women, so why would I have any problems with Nicola who was a quite a few years younger? But then, I thought Nicola might be a different type of woman. She might be the sort who wanted more depth in a sexual relationship and would I be able to or want to give that depth?

Chapter 6. The Accident

My thoughts about Nicola were to some extent tested when after a brief period of slightly warmer weather another cold snap came in accompanied by snow. Nicola was at home in the cottage at the time and there was a partial thaw and then another freeze, turning paths and roads into glassy hazards.

There were two steps up to the front door of the cottage and as far as I could gather Nicola had driven into the village to do some shopping. Returning she had slipped on the icy steps, fallen, and hurt her self rather badly. By pure chance I dropped by to ask if there was anything she wanted me to do, and found her lying half conscious on the path. 

I opened the front door with my key, picked her up and carried her into the cottage and lay her on the divan. She was freezing cold so I hurried up to her bedroom and taking a couple of blankets from her bed I raced downstairs and covered her with them.

Looking at her injuries I could see that she had a nasty bruise and cut on her face, and as I was to learn later more bruises down one side of he body and a badly sprained ankle that even as I watched was swelling visibly.

"I'm going to phone for an ambulance," I said.

"No...no...no...I won't go to hospital again...get Doctor Holmes."

Holmes was the local GP so I rang him and he said he would come. He took about an hour to arrive, and not knowing what else to do I tried cold compresses on the ankle that continued to swell and turn a nasty blue and yellow colour.

Holmes tutted, hummed and hawed over Nicola, and tried to persuade her to go to hospital. She was adamant that she would not go and in desperation Holmes said, "My dear girl, you need care. You're not going to be able to walk on that ankle for a week, perhaps even two weeks. If you're going to stay here who's going to help you?"

Without really thinking about it I said, "I'll look after her. I can drop in several times during the day and see if there's anything she wants."

"And are you going to cook for her," Holmes said rather cynically, "and she'll need help to get to the toilet the bathroom and the bedroom. Are you going to do that? 

"I can cook and do the shopping," I said.

And can you do the rest of it? No, if Mrs. Copper is staying here she'll need a woman with her, I'll make arrangements."

To my surprise Nicola said, "No," with unexpected energy given her injuries, "Edward can look after me."

There was a bit more argument with Holmes, but in the end he shrugged, and after giving me some instructions on how to deal with the sprain, he left, still annoyed.

When he had gone Nicola said, "I'll pay you of course, Edward."

I seemed to have got myself into a bit of a fix. I don't know whether it was because I had a bad conscience about prying into Nicola's correspondence, or whether I sincerely wanted to be of help to her, but I said, "You certainly won't pay me. What are friends for if they can't help out in a time of trouble?"

"Oh Edward," she whispered, "You really are a darling."

That made me feel even worse about my prying, and I must admit that I did wonder what I'd got myself into. Could I really cope?

Having volunteered myself however, I wasn't going to pull back, so I asked, "Do you want to stay here or shall I carry you up to your bedroom?"

"The divan is perfectly comfortable, I think I'll stay here if you'll get some sheets and make it up as a bed."

That's where it began. I got the sheets and some pillows and after seating Nicola in an armchair I made up her bed on the divan and then put her into it. 

It was close to lunchtime so I asked, "Could you manage a boiled egg?"

"I'll try," she whispered. "Make something for yourself as well."

"Oh, I didn't mean to impose," I protested slyly, hoping she'd insist I stayed; "I can get your egg and go back to the caravan for..."

"You will not, Edward," she mumbled because her facial bruises were starting to impair her speech. If you're going to look after me you eat here and not in that terrible caravan. It must be bitterly cold in that thing."

"It's not so bad," I said, trying to sound stoical. In fact it was freezing bloody cold in the caravan even with the oil heater going full blast - its full blast not being very enthusiastic.

"You eat here," she said again, "and you mustn't argue with me because I'm an invalid and mustn't be upset." She tried a smile and winced with pain.

Chapter 7. Getting on the Inside

That's how it went. In between the few jobs I had during the winter I cooked, shopped and cleaned for Nicola, but it came with a bonus.

It was her going to the toilet that actually provided the bonus. The first evening I helped her upstairs to the toilet, and followed that with a visit to the bathroom. Rather than a bath we found that Nicola sitting on a stool under the shower was more comfortable.

Modesty had to be preserved so I had to leave Nicola to hop around on one foot as best she could, while I, after hunting them out in her bedroom, stood by with her nightdress and dressing gown, to hand them round the door when she called for them.

It was all rather difficult and we said that next day we would get ourselves organised a bit better, but on that first night we made a very stupid mistake. Nicola had made up her mind that she would sleep downstairs on the divan. I had my doubts about that, but she insisted, and that was where I left her when I went to my caravan.

It was next morning when I went to get Nicola's breakfast that the foolishness of sleeping on the divan was revealed. Nicola had slept badly, and during the night she wanted to go to the toilet. It seemed that by hopping and crawling she had managed to get there, but on the way back she had slipped on the bottom stairs, and we were almost back to where she had been with the first accident.

By the time I got to the cottage she had managed to crawl onto the divan and she had got another couple of bruises, one on her hip and the other on her right shoulder.

I wanted to call Holmes in the hope he would now be able to persuade her to go to hospital, but still she wouldn't agree and would not even let me call Holmes. What might be called a fateful decision was made at that point.

"Look," I said, "if you won't go to hospital and I've got to look after you, we've got to make some better arrangements. What if I sleep in one of your spare bedrooms? You can have a little bell by your bed and if you need any help you can ring it and I can come to you. And you'd better sleep in your bedroom because it easier to get to the toilet."




A Winter Story



Nicola had a little weep at that point, I think less because of the pain and more because of the frustration she felt having one accident after another. When I dried her eyes she expressed some doubts about my staying in the house overnight. She thought it might start rumours round the village. I countered this firmly by saying that if I couldn't stay where I was near her I wouldn't look after her and then she would have to go to the hospital.

If by chance that sounds selfless on my part, then let me hasten to add that there was a strong element of self interest involved. The caravan was awful in the winter, not being one of the fancy modern ones. Oil for heating cost money and financially things were tight. So a comfortable berth in Nicola's cottage, even if only for a week or two, would come as a blessing. In addition there was the continued prospect of free meals.

So it was agreed that I should virtually live in the cottage, caring for Nicola, until she was properly mobile again.

She insisted that during the day she continued to use the divan saying that since I prepared the meals and did a bit of clearing up downstairs, she would be able to see and talk to me. 

Looking after her during the day had to be fitted in around the few jobs I had, but I was able to drop in and see if she was all right at fairly regular intervals. Playing the macho hero we overcame the difficulties of getting her upstairs by me carrying her. 

Living close to someone gives you a different perspective on them than if you're only dropping in from time to time. Of course, one of the most notable changes in how I thought and felt about Nicola came about through my carrying her. Feeling her so close, the firmness of her body and the fragrance of her skin enhanced the mild sexual interest I'd had in her. 

Seeing her in her nightdress also had its effect. I had only seen her fully clothed up to the time of her accidents; now, with more of her body exposed I could see that physically she still retain much of the elasticity of youth. The occasional glimpses I got of the cleavage between breasts, and unexpected firmness of the breasts themselves, had a definitely stimulating effect on me.

For me Nicola had started out by being a business opportunity, then an object of curiosity. From there our relationship had become one of mild friendship. Now sincere caring about her had taken over.

Chapter 8. The Question

By the fourth day after her second accident the bruises started to diminish followed by a reduction in the swelling of her ankle. She was able to get around on her own a bit using a crutch. 

It was around that time that what I have always thought of as, "The Question," was asked.

I had made coffee for us and I was seated near Nicola as she lay on the divan. Very quietly – almost casually – she said, "You know Edward, I don't really understand why you're so kind to me. We've only known each other for a short time, caring for me must have interfered with your work, and yet you've behaved like a very dear friend. Why do you do it?"

Her question, totally unexpected, had me rattled. When I answered her the response seem to well up from inside me and came out in the simplest and yet the most profound words without my thinking about them.

"Because I love you Nicola."

If her question had shaken me, my answer seemed to have an even more dramatic effect on Nicola.

For a moment her eyes seemed to glaze over as if she was looking into herself, then they focused intensely on my face as if trying to look deep into me.

Very quietly, and in a voice of infinite sadness, she said, "No...no...no, Edward, you mustn't love me. You can't...I won't let you."

Then more loudly she repeated, "I won't let you, do you understand, I won't."

I realised that this response had its source in the pain she had experienced with Jeremy. I remained silent for almost a minute wishing I hadn't spoken those words, and then said, "Nicola, you can't stop me loving you. I'm not asking you to love me; I'm not demanding or expecting anything. All I do ask is that you let me care for you, nothing more."

Where this unselfish motive came from I didn't know, but at that moment it was sincerely meant.

There was another pause, and then Nicola reached out to me and touched my hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I thought you might want to..." She paused again and then went on, "You see there's such a difference in our ages, and I can't give what your love might one day ask for, I've...I've been through too much."

I smiled at her and said, "I don't think love asks the age of the one loved."

I saw a tear roll down her cheek so I took a tissue from the box beside Nicola and wiped it away. "No need for tears," I said, "I know you've been badly hurt by..." 

I almost blurted out "Jeremy" but stopped myself just in time; instead I said, "By someone."

Nicola looked at me searchingly again and asked, "What makes you say that?"

I said, "I could see it in your eyes, in the way you stood and walked the first time I saw you." I didn't add, "And in the letters from Jeremy," and that was nearer the truth.

As if what I said had given rise to a related matter in Nicola's mind she said, "I have to be in town by the middle of next week," and giving me a wan smile she added, "so you'll have to look after me rather well."

I was glad of this change in direction since I suspected I'd already said too much, so I went on as cheerfully as I could, "I'll do that."

Another couple of days and Nicola was hobbling around with a stick and my presence in her cottage was starting to become superfluous. I decided to pre-empt any suggestion from Nicola that it was time for me to leave by suggesting it myself.

"Oh, there's not need for you to go back to the caravan yet Edward," she declared, "you might as well stay here until I get back from town. You'll be able to look after the place properly."

I made some slight protest but was overridden, and so I stayed on.

Chapter 10. Revelation

By the time Nicola was due to leave her ankle was such that she could still not drive safely. I tried to persuade her not to go, but she was determined, and without saying what it was that was so vital she made it clear that it was essential for her to go. 

On the day of her departure I drove her in her car to the railway station in a nearby town – the only viable way of getting to the city apart from by car – and waved her off from the platform. 

It was nearly a week before my mobile buzzed and Nicola told me she would be arriving back the next day, and would I pick her up at the station at 1-30 p.m.

When I saw her at the station I could tell that something extremely unpleasant must have happened. Her bruises had gone and she was walking without the stick, but her whole demeanour was redolent of the first time I'd seen her, only worse. She had a drained, beaten look and at the same time there was rigidity about her as if she was striving to hold something inside her that was hammering to get out.

As we drove to the cottage I tried asked her about her stay in town and her trip, but she only answered in monosyllables. Back in the cottage I asked if she'd had lunch and she said, "No, I haven't felt like eating."

"If I make you something now," I asked, "would you try and eat it?"

She shrugged and sat down on the divan. I set about making her a couple of thinly sliced sandwiches and some tea; when I carried them to her it was to find her sitting there with tears streaming down her face.

I put the tray on a little table and sat beside Nicola, and taking her hand I asked, "What is it Nicola, what's happened?"

Out it all poured as if the floods gates holding back her emotions had been opened.

The reason she had gone to town was to finalise her divorce. That in itself had been painful enough, but right to the last her husband, whom she now named as Jeremy, had continued to plead with her to take him back. 

Some of what she had to say I already knew from the letters I'd read, but there was more that I didn't know.

"I knew why he wanted to come back to me," she sobbed. "I was his milch cow; I was an easy mark because I really did love him. He wanted to live off me again.

"Didn't he work?" I asked.

She gave a brief derisive laugh. "Work! Like me he was supposed to be a writer, but for the five years we were married he wrote nothing. Oh, he pretended to write and I believed him when he talked about what he was doing, but nothing ever appeared."

"Didn't he ever publish anything?"

"No, and I doubt if he ever will. My God, Edward, I was so enamoured with him and even when I realised he was living off me I didn't care, just so long as I had him. Foolish female egotism I suppose. He was ten years younger than me, good looking and charming, and I fell for it."

Already knowing from the letters what the answer to my question would be I asked, "So what happened to change things?"

She broke into loud sobs again and said, "Would you hold me Edward, I want to be held."

I put my arm round her and drew her to me and let her cry.

When she spoke again it was to relate what in substance I already knew. She had been visiting her agent and had come home earlier than expected to find Jeremy in bed with a girl. That was no doubt bad enough, but there was more to come.

"You see, Edward, I was pregnant. I knew about the dangers of getting pregnant at my age but Jeremy had wanted me to have a child so badly. I think now that I agreed to try and make sure I held on to him, and perhaps he had the same motive; it would make him more secure with me."

She paused for a long time, then went on, "When you first saw me I had just got over a miscarriage."

"You mean, seeing Jeremy with the girl...?"

"Yes, and I know you'll think it foolish of me, but that's the real reason I could never take him back. I might have been able to forgive his unfaithfulness. At around six months into my pregnancy I'd been advised not to have sexual intercourse and according to Jeremy that's why he had sought sex elsewhere. I might just have been able to accept that, but what I can't forgive him for is the miscarriage. Can you understand that, Edward?"

"Yes, I can understand that." I now understood what Jeremy had meant in his letters when he wrote of her "condition."

We sat in silence for a long time, my arm round her as she gradually cried out her pain. I felt an overwhelming tenderness for her and wanted to stay with her and look after her, but with her arrival back in the cottage the time for me to depart seemed to have arrived.

She ate the sandwiches I had made and even drank the tea that by now was at best lukewarm.

When I felt that she had calmed down I said, "Now you're back I'd better make a move. I'll get my things together and leave." 

I felt her hold on me tighten as she said hesitantly, "Could you...would you stay a bit longer Edward? I don't really want to be alone just now, and if you could stay...just for a couple of days...and you aren't in a hurry to go back to the caravan, are you?" 

"Well no..." I said, "But I don't want to intrude, I just thought..."

"Then you'll stay, just for a few days?"

"Yes, of course, and I can keep an eye on you and see that you don't damage that beautiful face again."

I suppose I'd referred to her "beautiful face" in a partially unthinking and slightly facetious manner, not expecting to be taken seriously, but Nicola took it up.

I saw a flush of pleasure diffuse her pallid features as she said in an unexpectedly coquettish voice, "I'm not beautiful, Edward, you mustn't say things like that to me."

Having gone down that track I decided I'd better follow through, and after all she did have really lovely facial bone structure.

"But of course you're beautiful, I love looking at your face."

"Please Edward; don't say that, he used to talk like that."

I knew that by "he" she meant Jeremy so I thought I'd better not pursue the subject, but couldn't help adding, "Well that's how I see you."

She managed a laugh and said, "Good, now I'm not an invalid any more so I'm going to prepare a lovely dinner for us, you go and do whatever you have to do and let me get on with it." 

I didn't really have anything to do just then, but deciding to make myself scarce for a while I went and pottered around Miss Libby's garden just for the sake of keeping out of Nicola's way for a while – no extra charge to Miss Libby.

And so I stayed with Nicola for the couple of days agreed to, and when I again made the suggestion that it was time for me to move out she again persuaded me to stay on for yet another couple of days.

Chapter 11. Domesticity Prevails

With the divorce behind her, and having got the poison out of her system by talking about herself, Jeremy and the lost child, Nicola began to show signs of recovery. Colour came back into her face and she seemed to be exuding a sense of optimism. 

She worked at her computer for several hours each day saying that she had a deadline to meet with her next novel, and went for a walk for about an hour each day, accompanied by me on a few occasions. If she couldn't be exactly described as beautiful, she was becoming quite eye-catching. 

The situation was beginning to look positively domestic, without of course the intimacy of bedtime recreation. This became increasingly frustrating because quite apart from my now pressing sexual interest in Nicola, my comfort lady announced the she was being courted by a local widower and thought she'd better shut up shop as far as I was concerned. To make matters worse my casual ladies rarely came in the winter, so taken all round I was feeling somewhat deprived.

In the light of this situation I thought that it was definitely time for me to remove myself from Nicola's presence. I had come to value her company and friendship and I felt that if I lingered much longer in the cottage I would say or do something that would bring an end to our relationship.

It is strange, but it appears at times that some Almighty Hand seems to play a part in our destiny. On day before I had determined I would leave the cottage an event took place that was to have a profound influence on my life.

It was to be my last night in the cottage and I still hadn't told Nicola I would be leaving. During that last evening Nicola continued to work on her computer because the deadline for her novel was close. I had sat by the fire reading until time came for bed. I went to the study to say goodnight to Nicola, and she said she'd had enough and would also go to bed. 

We made our way together to our rooms and outside her bedroom I said goodnight. Nicola did not respond, but stood her head bent, and said very uncertainly, "Edward I...I don't...I don't want to be alone tonight."

"What?" I said, startled.

"If you love me then stay with me tonight," she said a little more boldly.

"You mean, come to bed with you?"

"Yes, does that make me sound like a slut?"

"No, of course not, it's just that I never thought....thought that you'd want..."

"Its been a long time, Edward, and I want...I trust you...I believe you won't just use me."

I felt a nasty pang of guilt spear through me. I had used her, at least in the beginning, but now I hesitated because I really didn't want to take advantage of what might prove to be only a moment of loneliness – of vulnerability. I suppose if anything proved that I loved her that did.

"Are you sure, Nicola, I mean, there tomorrow morning and you might..."

"No...no, it's all right, I know what I want, so please..."

She stopped speaking and kissed me on the lips; not a violently passionate kiss, but gentle and loving. Then she took my hand and drew me to her bedroom and there kissed me again.

"I feel safe with you, Edward," she said very confidently, "you've been so good to me and I know you love me, so why shouldn't we have what love can give and receive?"

She started to undress me, so I began to unbutton her shirt. Other such moments in my life always seemed to be hurried, but with Nicola it was different, and that set the pattern for the night. 

I had of course, never seen her naked and as she gradually became revealed to me I saw how desirable her body was, with not overly large, but firm breasts, long legs and a little triangle of pubic hair that somehow made her seem touchingly sweet and innocent. 

I was about to tell her how lovely she looked, but she got in before me.

"You have a beautiful body, Edward; so strong and manly."

She had blushed at my compliments in the past, now it was my turn. No one had ever said that to me before.

She drew me towards the bed and getting in herself patted the place beside her.

Once there we lay, looking into each others eyes, neither speaking nor moving. I had the crazy notion that I didn't want to touch her because she seemed so pure. Certainly I knew she must have engaged in sexual intercourse many times, but for me at that moment she seemed almost virginal.

"Don't you want me?" she asked softly.

"Yes," I replied, "but you look so delicate."

She smiled and drew my hand to her breast saying, "I promise you I won't break." With that she kissed me, this time with undeniable desire.

I've heard some men say that all women are the same in bed. In my own experience that had proved to be more or less true. One female body felt much like another, one vagina seemed as good as another. With Nicola I found for the first time something that was different.

To describe it is difficult and no adjective seems to suffice. There was gentleness, a delicacy about her, and a feeling of lightness. First time intercourse is so often hurried and even violent, but with Nicola it was so tender.

We took a long time over our foreplay, touching, pressing, kissing and licking. We explored each other slowly, and when I finally penetrated her I understood why a woman's vagina is sometimes referred to as "a tunnel of love." That was what it felt like with its soft, clinging moistness and warmth. 

Whereas men often ejaculate quickly, I had learned that women like coition to last for a long time. My comfort lady had taught me how to hold back from my climax, and now I moved slowly in Nicola.

I was rewarded at intervals by little cries of, "It's so lovely, Edward," and I was able to say to her truthfully, "It's you that makes it lovely, Nicola."

Even when she finally orgasmed it was with the same delicacy and lightness that had prevailed throughout. Each time I had felt her orgasm approaching I had withdrawn from her, trying to prolong our union, but after about half an hour she said, "I want to come now, Edward, let it happen and come with me."

Her movements became sharp and rapid as she pushed up against my downward thrusts. I could feel her already soaking tunnel starting to flood with lubricant and as her orgasm took over, instead of the usual squeals and loud cries, she sighed and murmured, "It's lovely...lovely..."

Her movements changed to long upward thrusts; I released my sperm into her just as she climaxed and it was then she gave a gentle cry and clung to me, winding her legs round me. But even in this there was that lightness. 

I was looking down at her as I came into her, and something like a transformation seemed to have taken place. In her orgasmic delight she really did look beautiful. It was as if the years fell away from her and the pain and misery she had experienced dissipated.

When I had emptied myself into her I whispered, "You really are beautiful, Nicola."

She was experiencing her post climax after shocks and throughout her orgasm her eyes had been shut; now they opened wide and looked at me as she said, "I love you Edward, I do love you my darling."

She finished with a long drawn out sigh of contentment and I withdrew from her. She curled her body against mine and I held her close, irrationally feeling the need to protect her.




A Winter Story



It had been enough. There were no endless couplings throughout the night. What had taken place was so deeply satisfying that it seemed impossible that anything more could be added.

I reached up and turned the bed light off, and still in my arms Nicola drifted into sleep. I lay awake for a while, still relishing what had been a new sexual experience for me; an experience that had been of love and not just lust.

Yet I felt a sense of guilt. It was her very tenderness, her gentleness that made her seem vulnerable. Beside her I felt like a clumsy brute and I wondered how Jeremy could ever have hurt her – she who had loved him. 

I'm ashamed to admit that I was close to tears that night as I held her sleeping in my arms. 

Then I too drifted off into dreamless sleep.

I slept late the next morning and when I awoke Nicola had gone from the bed. I had a sudden dread that she had regretted our night together – that she had seen me for the brute I felt myself to be - and what had been our companionable relationship up to that night would now end. 

I lay wondering if I had said or done anything that had put pressure on her for sex, but could think of nothing. It had been Nicola who had approached me. I wondered if it had merely been her loneliness and the absence of sex in her life that had made her turn to me, and now she might be experiencing self-disgust. If that was how she felt then I had been reprehensible in taking advantage of her vulnerability.

I took a shower and dressed and then anxiously went in search of Nicola. She was dressed and preparing breakfast in the kitchen. As soon as she heard me enter she spun round with a radiant smile on her face. 

The unhappiness I had seen disappear during our copulating had not returned. She almost ran to me and putting her arms round me said, "Good morning my love," and kissed me.

She laid her hand on mine and there was that delicacy again. It was like a butterfly's wings brushing my hand. How could anyone hurt such a lovely sensitive creature? 

"You're feeling...feeling okay?" I asked.

"Of course I do, how could I not after what we did last night. Thank you darling, it was wonderful." 

I had received some thanks from other sex partners, but none was more welcome than Nicola's. I felt the burden of anxiety lifted, she hadn't regretted our night together.

It's odd how we often forget in our own anxiety that other people are also anxious. Over breakfast she unexpectedly asked me if I had regretted what we had done.

"Never, I said, "it was the most wonderful sex I've ever experienced," and that was nothing but the plain truth. 

"Does that mean you won't be going back to the caravan?" she asked.

"Not until you throw me out," I chuckled.

That seemed to settle the matter, and from then on I lived in the cottage and shared Nicola's bed. 

Chapter 13. The Gardener in Spring. 

From time to time I thought about getting rid of the caravan but hesitated, still uncertain what the future would bring. I suppose it was this uncertainty that led me to take what almost proved to be a fatal step with Nicola.

One night after we'd finished making love I said, "I love you very much, Nicola, will you marry me?"

I felt her go rigid in my arms and she pushed away from me.

"No...no...I'll never marry again. I've been married once and the age difference is... I know you'll leave me one day...you'll find someone else...someone younger...no, you shouldn't have asked, I'll never marry you."

Her answer I found almost unbearably painful and I said, "You know I love you and..."

"That's what he said, and remember what he did to me."

"But I'd never do that to you, Nicola, I'd never hurt you."

"You think so now, but what about in a year's time...five years...ten years time, when you see me aging, will you still love me then? No, I won't marry you, I can't..."

"You don't love me enough?"

"You know how I feel about you Edward, haven't I shown it time after time, but no marriage."

I felt as if I was falling into a dark abyss. It wasn't that I simply wanted security with Nicola, and I certainly didn't want to exploit her financially as Jeremy had, and I hadn't stopped working so I was able to make some contribution to the household. I had really found the love of my life in Nicola and the idea of being without her one day was a dark thought.

Knowing how stubborn Nicola could be, and as she had been so adamant about not marrying me, I knew it was useless to push the matter. "Perhaps," I thought, "one day she'll change her mind."

From the first moment of meeting Nicola fortune seemed to have smiled upon me. It continued to smile now. Something that should have been wonderful news from Nicola turned out to be a confession. 

It came about like this: Nicola had a slim figure but after about four months of living with her I started to notice she was putting on weight. In humorous vein I commented on this; "Darling, you must be very contented, I can see you're putting on some weight."

There was a deathly hush and I thought I'd blown it; then she said very quietly, "I suppose I'd better tell you, I'm pregnant."

There was another deathly hush as I digested this information, then I almost exploded.

"You're what?"

"Pregnant, it must have happened soon after we started making love."

"And I only find out now! You must have known...you must have, and you said nothing, why? My God you shouldn't be having a baby not at..."

"My age? Well, we haven't been using any means of contraception and so...but I knew you'd say that, that's why I didn't say anything until it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"To have an abortion."

"But your in danger...I mean after the last..."

"What are you saying, Edward; are you planning on giving me a shock like Jeremy."

"No...no for course not, I love you, but I feel...I didn't know you could...I thought you were..."

"Past getting pregnant? Well now you know I'm not. So what do you want to do, run off and leave me?"

"That's a terrible thing to say, Nicola, you know I wouldn't do that, I love you, but I'm worried, you might...might, you know..."

I had flopped down in an armchair, overcome by the news. Nicola came to me and sitting on the arm of the chair she took my hand and said, "I didn't mean it when I said about you leaving me, but can you understand, I didn't want to tell you until it was too late for us to talk about getting rid of it. I want it Edward, I really do want it, and lots of women are having babies at my age now."

I didn't know what to say and she went on, "Do you mind very much?"

"No, of course not if you want it, but I'm scared for you; I've got a life with you Nicola and if anything went..."

"Wrong?" She gave a gentle laugh and said, "Then you're going to have to care for me again, aren't you?"

"Yes, and that's just what I'm going to do. Now, that baby will need a proper father, so I think you'll have to drop the nonsense of not marrying me; I'll see the vicar tomorrow."

"Mmm, yes," she said, "perhaps I would rather like to be married now."

"You would?"

"Yes, very much."

"Good, now..." Something suddenly struck me; "Good God, Nicola, out in the garden the spring flowers have been burgeoning out all over the place, and all the time you've been blooming along with them, and I've planted both sorts of seeds."

She laughed and said, "Yes, the winter is over, and it's been quite a story, my love."

Just as a final comment; Nicola's next novel proved to be the most popular she had ever written. It's not exactly our story, but it is a love story that seems to have touched many people; probing into the depths of human desire for love – to both give and receive it. It's already gone through several editions and is bringing in a lot of money. I still do my gardening work, but I must admit that what I bring in financially is really only small change compared to Nicola's contribution.

Yes, well, I have said that it was a final thought, but another one has just occurred to me; I suppose it's not really a very nice thought. 

"Tough luck Jeremy, I've got lovely Nicola and a beautiful baby daughter. You should have been content to plant your seed in Nicola and you might have ended up as happy as I am."

Epilogue.

"For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land."
(Song of Songs 2:11)