Fireside Tales

Expect the Unexpected

2010-07-10T21:23:00.007+01:00

Raven glanced at his watch.

Odd, he thought, the helicopter was running late today. He had a full diary of events today and was eager to get through them all and get back home. Like his daughter Skye, he too, had noticed how tired and strained Kenya was looking lately.

Kyle was taking up a lot of her time, constantly demanding attention.

And naturally, she pandered to his needs too. He'd never seen such a demanding child, really. Even Skye didn't take up that amount of time. And he was pretty sure that he hadn't been that demanding at that age either. It made Raven think twice about trying for a third.

Yeah, it had crossed his mind a little. But only briefly, as he realised how this would look to Kenya. Permanently tying her to the house, never giving her the chance to fulfil her own dreams .... as far reaching as they may be ....

An Oceanographer .... really .... it was ludicrous, but ... it was Kenya's dream .... and he wasn't about to stand in her way.

So, whilst he waited for the helicopter, he decided to help Kenya out in the search for her dream job. If all else failed, he had some contacts.... he could drop them a line or two, make a couple of phone calls.... pull some strings.

Admittedly, all this was going against his better judgement, but this was his wife. He'd ripped her and the kids away from a nice steady home life, and dropped them unceremoniously into a new town, expecting them to fit in.

There was something else on his mind too. Something that had been bugging him for a couple of weeks now.

The 'Prison Outreach Program'.

At the time, he thought he'd made the right decision in passing that new law and integrating this new program. Now, he wasn't so sure. It had gone down badly indeed, and it was just a matter of time before it caught up with him.

Until then, he had other matters to attend to.

The sound of a car horn honking, made him tilt his head. A car? Where was the helicopter?

Sure enough, standing outside, was a long black shiny stretch limousine. It's windows all blacked out, and that same blonde heckler who'd booed him a few months back.

What was going on here? Had there been cut backs that he hadn't been informed about? That program had been a costly one that took it's toll on the taxpayers money. Maybe this was his punishment? A downgrade on transport.

That suited him fine, at least the fuel costs were less. The chopper used an obscene amount of fuel, travelling to and from venues.... and it was overly ostentatious too.

"Good morning."

He was met with stony silence.

Not a good sign.

Instead, she rolled her eyes and tilted her head upwards, scanning the skies.
How very very odd.

"The chopper under maintenance?"

"Just get in the car."

Oh, boy. This was a good start to the day.
It could only get worse from now on.

Those were prophetic words as Raven slid into the leather seating, the door slammed shut and they moved off.

He was stunned at the lack of his whole entourage. Instead, he sat alone, with just the driver and the blonde woman in the front.

Jabbing the intercom, Raven spoke to the driver......

"What's going on here? Where is everybody?"

The reply back was tinny, thanks to the poor reception on the intercom, but it was chilling nonetheless.

"Just do as we say, and you won't get hurt....."

With that, all the locks clicked into place..... shutting him in ..... and Raven suddenly felt cold chills.......

Skye

2010-07-05T23:44:00.014+01:00

The Valdin Homestead

Skye Valdin sat, pondering and ruminating, gazing intently at the chess board.

Or at least that's the impression she gave to anybody who just happened to pass by.

Instead, what was really going on in her head, was a completely different story.

Since their move to Cloverdale, she'd tried to settle in as best as she could, but she missed all her friends, her family, cousins.... uncles... aunts etc. Although they were all a phone call away, she never felt so isolated in all her short life.

She never really resented her dad's sudden decision to 'up sticks' and move. Well, not on the surface anyway. After all, if this was what his job required, then who was she to argue with him. After all, she's just a kid. And her opinions didn't seem to matter. To her brother however, this was a great adventure. He'd happily crawl all over the garden, dragging weeds and the pretty flowers that their mother had just planted, out by their roots, and flung them all over the place. Giggling happily.
Nope, this was just a great big adventure for Kyle. For her mother however, Skye was just that little more observant. And although Kenya never really showed it much, Skye knew that Kenya was also missing her family and friends.

Plus, she hated school. Admittedly, it wasn't half as bad as the last one back home. All the taunts about her green skin and black fathomless eyes. The innuendos about how her dad got elected as Mayor of the city - *he must have 'probed' his way through all the candidates at City Hall* etc.

She didn't want to draw attention to herself by complaining, so she threw herself into her studies. Besides, her own company was just fine thank you very much.

Mind you, there WAS a boy at school. He was always getting picked on because he was always sickly. And he had red hair. He had a big sister who always looked out for him. On the dot, she'd be there at the gates, waiting for him. She'd even had a few dust-ups with some of the kids too.

Skye knew what it was like to be 'different'. But, try as she may, she stood out. So, even though this kid was getting picked on mercilessly at school - the only place his sister couldn't defend him - Skye was torn.

Yeah sure, she could have defended him. He reminded her so much of her own kid brother Kyle.

But then, what would have happened if she HAD stood up to this boy? She'd have been the focus of all the bullying. The last thing she wanted.

Besides, she'd already caught a glimpse of two new boys who'd just arrived at the school. Twins... both red hair.

Red hair.

What was this? An invasion of the red-heads or something?

And they both looked like trouble. So she was glad that she was leaving 'little school' soon, and moving onto the 'big school' as she'd called it. Hopefully, she'll settle in a lot more there. Besides, these two looked as though they could handle themselves anyway. One to cover the other one's back.

It was their big sister that worried Skye. She looked a little mean and stand-offish, and Skye hoped that she wasn't a bully.

Skye also realised that her thirteenth birthday was drawing closer ..... and there hadn't been a peep from anybody. No general hints, nudges, odd little questions about what she was into etc.

Nothing.

At first it irked and annoyed her. But, as her birthday drew nearer, she felt a wave of hopelessness about her.

Her dad was always too busy at the office .... and there was NO WAY she was going to sit quietly whilst he was in conference. She squirmed about too much, and her gangly legs would swing non stop.

It was bad enough seeing all his 'yes men' hanging onto every word he uttered. But to do something that would embarrass him in front of them.... and earn that famous 'glower' that he'd perfected all his life....

... nope. She'd rather stay at home and pretend to play chess.

It wasn't as if she wasn't familiar with this classic board game. In fact, she was only two skills short of Junior Master. She could beat everybody hands down. Such was her intelligence.

But here she was, sitting at the chess table ....

wondering if anybody had remembered her birthday.... but there again, hoping that her mom and dad hadn't gone through all that trouble for her too. As she was particularly nervous around strangers.

A Prison First

2010-06-29T23:45:00.010+01:00

Hordes Vale Penitentiary

Simon shuffled the files around his desk, stacking them neatly to one side. He hated sloppiness and untidiness at the best of times. Besides, he wanted to give his latest candidate a good impression.

He wasn't happy with all these new changes and laws that had been issued by the Mayor, but what could he do? He could throw a fit and get himself thrown off the boards as governor of this here prison.

Up until now, things had run along smoothly. The prison budget had yet to be reviewed, and there were some key areas that needed to be looked at a little more closely. One of them being the mental welfare of the prisoners.

In Simon's mind, they were here to serve their sentences, learn new skills and keep out of trouble. He was a fair governor, but strict too, and that's what gained him the respect he had in this place.

However, it came to light, during one visit, that one prisoner was undergoing a lot of stress and was suffering from severe depression. That he'd refused to eat and to come out of his cell. A plea had reached the ears of the Mayor himself, along with a strong campaign... forcing the Mayor to pass a new law allowing all prisons to include a trained psychologist into the system.

It was against Simon's better judgement, but laws were laws, and to keep the paperwork in order and to a bare minimum, he had to adhere to them. Whether he liked it or not.

Glancing at the desktop clock for the umpteenth time, he felt a wave of apprehension.
He'd read through the candidates notes, his past history.... career changes etc. It intrigued him that the guy spent a considerable time running an asylum. And it piqued his interest. Dealing with insane patients was completely different from working with hard-ass prisoners.

It wasn't something that he wanted to introduce into the prison. All the inmates here, at some point, were volatile. The last thing he wanted, was to either have a riot, or a major meltdown.

But, he decided to give this candidate the benefit of the doubt. Besides, from all the applicants, his profile stood out the most.

"You okay there boss?" asked the desk clerk.

It was common prison procedure to be accompanied everywhere, as you never knew what might happen. Even when conducting job interviews. Besides, it made common sense to have a third party involved, for screening purposes. Admittedly, his office was one of the safest places to be, but you could never be too sure.

Although it was against prison policies and rules, the walls were decorated with a few sporting mementos along with the usual pinboards full of notices and schedules. It wasn't decorated to please the eye, just something to break the monotony of the four walls. Especially when the only two windows in the place.... faced out onto a very narrow gap between his office and the next building.... the infirmary.

Besides, it was frowned upon to have personal belongings littering the place, but this was one rule that Simon was happy to ignore. And he never had any complaints about it in the seven years he'd been governor.

Outside, in the waiting room, the candidate paced restlessly, pausing to glance up at the harsh fluorescent light, and pat his forehead periodically from time to time. His cheek stung like the devil, and he hoped that the swelling had gone down considerably and the stitches were healing up.

The devious little swine..... he's going to pay for this......

After all, he wanted so badly to impress and looking as though he'd been through a meat tenderizer.....

... wasn't helping the situation at all.

He sat back down and waited.....

Inside the office, Simon briefly ran through the files for the fourth time running, making sure he didn't leave anything out. He was nervous enough, the last thing he needed was a caffeine hit that would send him hyper.

"I'm good, thanks Kevin," he replied nodding.

"Sure you don't want a coffee? You're looking mighty tense there."

Simon chuckled.

"I don't think I need my caffeine fix right now, but you can get some if you want."

The espresso machine - one of the little luxuries that he'd allowed into his shared office, was situated at the back of the spacious office. Conveniently placed there so that the governor would never be alone in the room. Dotted about the office, and throughout the whole prison, were closed circuit cameras, trained on all angles.

Yes, it was an invasion of privacy, but it was necessary for the safety and security of the prisoners, the guards and visitors.

"Only if you're sure there."

"Yep, I'm good."

The chair creaked along the well worn parquet floor, as Kevin made his way to the coffee machine, mug in hand.

The door creaked open slightly and a guard popped his head around the corner.

"Your 2 o'clock is here, shall I let him in?"

Another glance at the clock, and Simon smiled.

Hmm, early.... this guy's keen.

The clerk in the corner spluttered as the hot coffee burned his mouth. He turned around and his eyebrows shot up as the door opened.

Accompanied by yet another guard, was a tall slightly built man walked into the room, and the first thing Simon noticed, was his arresting eyes. They were piercing and intelligent. Appearing as if he was completely aware of his surroundings.

They were overshadowed, however, by the cuts and grazes on the guy's handsome face. It looked as though he'd just been in a fight. The last thing he needed here in the prison.

The other guard, named Trevor, mainly out of habit, and the intense training they all went through, decided to hang back..... just in case they needed another 'heavy'.

Simon stood up and walked around the heavy desk, stretching out his hand.

"Simon Fewliss, governor of this here prison," he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

"Doctor Kato," came the curt reply, his grip was firm and polite, but his gaze was unnerving as he scrutinized Simon's face.

"Do you mind if I called you by your surname... doctor?"

"I prefer not to, thank you."

"Please, take a seat."

They sat facing one another, whilst the two guards kept a close eye out.

"What's with the ...." Simon gestured towards Kato's face.

Kato grimaced slightly, tenderly brushing his fingers against the abrasions.

"Just a little foray," he explained smoothly, "nothing to write home about. The situation was dealt with swiftly and the offender suitably punished."

"I'm just wondering," Simon mused, "if you understand what you'll be getting yourself into, should you get the post here. After all, you'll be dealing with very dangerous prisoners .... accompanied.... of course."

"I can assure you, it's nothing I can't handle. I've had more than my fair share of aggressive and dangerous patients in my time. Some of my techniques, although controversial, have had a major impact on diffusing some particularly nasty incidents. Not that I'm bragging of course. It's just a given fact."

"You'll have more than your fair share of aggressive inmates here, I can tell you. And meeting violence with violence .... isn't going to achieve anything. Besides, it's not the way we work here."

"Just to let you know, I regard myself as a 'passive aggressor'."

"I apologise for sounding sanctimonious and patronizing here..."

"You have children?"

"What?"

Simon was slightly taken aback at this sudden change of topic.

"Sure... yeah.... but... but.."

"It's natural for you to be so protective. So..... 'sanctimonious and patronizing' as you put it."

He smiled, then laughed softly.
It broke the stiff atmosphere in the whole room.

"Guess I'd better get back on duty boss," said Trevor, the guard who'd accompanied Dr Kato into the office.

"Sure, okay."

The interview, after that, went very smoothly, and Dr Kato was given the job.
However, deep down, Simon was already having misgivings and wondered if he'd made a bad choice.

At least there was the standard 3 months probationary period to make his judgement. If Dr Kato fitted in well, that would be fine. If not, he could let him go without any recriminations whatsoever.

The Lesser of Two Evils?

2010-06-02T13:26:00.009+01:00

Paddy soaked himself in the hotel hot tub, thankful for the peace and quiet. Already he'd developed a rotten headache, his ears ringing from his wife Niamh's latest tirade. The hot tub was his only place of sanctuary, where he could unwind and chill.

But this time, he couldn't just relax..... Niamh's words rang out loud and clear.

He'd been so excited when he'd brought Niamh here, to this very spot. Practically hopping up and down and clapping his hands!! He wanted to remember this moment, cherish it for all times.

"You can open your eyes now honey."

Niamh slowly opened her eyes and looked around.....

"You have GOT to be KIDDING me Paddy!"

"Oh come on honey, just... use your imagination here, it'll be brilliant ... fantastic...."

"It's a hole. in. the. ground ..... Paddy, what's so fantastic about that.... huh?"

"But please Niamh....."

She folded her arms and glared at him.

"So this is what you've been doing behind my back huh? Buying a lump of soil."

"Yeah ... but..."

"No buts Paddy. Of all the decisions you've made ... THIS one has got to be the stupidest one ever!"

Paddy clamped his mouth shut. Sometimes it was wisest NOT to say anything at all. Especially when his long suffering wife was on a roll with that sharp tongue of hers.

Since quitting the band ..... well, since the bust up with Dagger that led to him quitting in the first place ... Paddy had been at a loose end. Driving around aimlessly, he'd stumbled along a narrow country road and discovered a sleepy little town, hidden away, called Cloverdale.

It was idyllic .... perfect.... and a great place to bring the kids up too. Admittedly, the school was out of town, but that didn't stop Paddy. He could car pool them there, or they could take the bus. It was no biggie.

Thing was, there was a mere smattering of cottages and houses. Nothing that actually took his interest, nothing that was for sale..... except for this piece of scrub land. Primed and ready for development.

So he bought it, as seen.

And now, as he listened to her ranting, he started to regret ever making this conscious decision.
But that's not the worst of it.

He'd also made a purchase on a pub.

Judging by Niamh's reaction to the plot of land.... he didn't dare tell her about the pub. Goodness knows HOW she'd react there.

Instead, he waited for an opening, when she'd finally come up for air. And THAT's when he'd make his case.

"But honey," he said consolingly, "I thought...."

"That's it Paddy," she burst out, still fuming, "you DIDN'T think.... you didn't take things into consideration at all."

They were going nowhere fast, and the situation was starting to get volatile, with Niamh's strong Irish blood and temper flaring up constantly.

Paddy blundered on regardless. He just HAD to get his point across. Try and make her see sense.

"It's for the kids Niamh," he said sighing heavily, "they need a stable foundation and a good education."

"And then what?" she retorted, "the minute Dagger pops in and begs you mercilessly, you're going to take off again? Leave me here with the kids? It was bad enough living out of suitcases and hotel rooms.... but this...."

She swept her arm across the clover filled field.

"At least we had somewhere to stay. Here, we've got nothing .... not even running water. Have you ever considered THAT?"

"Um .... well ...."

"Yes?"

"Well ......"

Niamh's patience was running thin by now. And she'd backed him into a corner too.

"We do have somewhere to stay."

"Oh really? Where? A trailer, stuck at the side of the road?"

"Um, no ..... a pub."

Niamh simply glared at him. For once, she couldn't argue with him. At least he'd managed to find somewhere for them to stay.

And now, here he was, soaking in the hot tub. Staying out of the way of Niamh's wrath.... and wondering, out of the two biggest decisions he'd made so far....

.. which one was the lesser of two evils!!!!

A Change in Direction

2010-05-25T17:53:00.013+01:00

The taxi pulled up and both Laura and her adopted son Claude got out. She was NOT looking forward to this in the slightest.Grunting, groaning, followed by wheezing, the taxi driver hauled out the suitcases and boxes, and dumped them on the ground before leaping into his cab and driving off.

"At least we've got this," Claude exclaimed, grinning cheerfully.

Laura could only glance over his thin shoulders at the wreckage before her. It was a long way from what she was used to, that's for sure.

The house, if you could call it that, had seen better days, with mould creeping up the outside walls, mismatched windows, cracked and boarded up. Trees and bushes, their spindly branches reaching out across the creaky old verandah.

But what added insult to injury, wasn't the piles and piles of rubbish that had collected there.
It was the down and out, sleeping rough in the corner!!!

And to think, this was what she'd been reduced to....
... a major 'fixer-upper', widowed, made redundant and a single parent, all in a matter of weeks.

"You okay there?" Claude was worried.

He'd never seen her like this. In the short time they'd been a family, she'd always been so strong, so happy, so....comforting. He reached forward his arms stretched out, wanting to hug her, but she recoiled, the very idea of being comforted... appalled her.

She was the one who had to be strong..... to hold things together. But she was having difficulty... a LOT of difficulty indeed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, "I'm.... sorry. I just.... can't seem to handle all of this."

She felt ashamed of herself for acting so childish. It was simply a hug, that's all..... a HUG for crying out loud. And she'd hurt his feelings with her brush off and flat refusal.

She turned her shame into anger. Angry because of all the crap that had been thrown at her from every possible angle. And now this..... this..... place..... and it's rotten creaky floorboards and peeling painted window frames......

She looked up at the broken down, derelict house and her heart sank. It was going to cost a fortune to replace practically everything. It would take weeks, maybe months to clear all the clutter that had accumulated.

This was her.... a broken down wreck, in dire need of a 'fixer-upper'. Although what she needed fixing, wouldn't cost much, but it would take months to repair.... or maybe not..... depending on how she was going to cope with this sudden downturn in her luck.

And she needed a job. The insurance premiums from her late husband, came to ... practically nothing. They flatly refused to pay out because of a suicide clause in the small print. Even the sale of their family home, bore little fruit, in the way of ready cash. Most of it had had to go back into paying off her late hubby's HUGE gambling debts.

It was a kick in the teeth, when she'd gone back to work, after a couple of week's 'compassionate leave'. To find that she'd been booted out on her ear.

Hauled into the office, she was confronted by her haughty boss who announced clearly that she was a 'dead weight' in this business. That her continuing absences of late, weren't pulling the company forward and that the temp was better at her job than Laura.

That was the thanks she got for putting in three years' work. Always there when she was needed. Yes, she'd spent a lot of time off lately. Simply because she'd been nursing injuries caused by her abusive ex husband, then his 'face-off' with a sawed-off shotgun. The stress of it all, had almost caused her to have a nervous breakdown.

It was young Claude who'd been the 'backbone', the gentle support etc.

Jonas had been against the adoption in the first place, telling Laura that a kid was a dreadful pull on their resources, and that he was too stuck in his ways to have a kid around the house.

And now, as they stood in front of this run-down 'fixer-upper', the only property she could afford with her settlement. There was a crushing hopelessness surrounding her and she wanted to cry.
She'd planned their future, hers and Claude's, so carefully. They'd have a nice house, live comfortably for the rest of their lives.

And it had gone horribly wrong.

She looked bleakly at Claude, whose cheerful mask slipped slightly, before sliding back into place.

"There's some woods over there," he said, pointing behind her, "we could explore and stuff, like we used to back......."

He trailed off, biting his lip. He'd done it again. Upset her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, no, you shouldn't be Claude," she replied, wiping away a stray tear, "I'm the one getting all upset here. This should be a cause for celebration. It's a change in direction for the two of us. A brand new start!"

With that, she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him in a firm hug.

"We'll get through this," she said quietly, "you'll see."

Claude just hoped so, as his optimism was only valid for a limited time only. And Laura's mood swings were starting to wear him thin.

'Interviews' With Characters

2009-07-08T00:09:00.004+01:00

Many apologies everyone, for not keeping up regular updates on this drama series. I hadn't realised just how HUGE this series had become (in characters, world building etc...).

So, for a little 'break' (and the fact that recently I've become disillusioned with Sims 2).....
I've decided to do something different.

To try to get into the minds of my characters, I've decided to slot in (occasionally) an interview or two. What I basically need, is everybody who has been following the series, to tell me which characters' personal thoughts they'd like to read about.

I shall post a poll, and renew it (hopefully) each month, so that I can add in another interview.
Hope that makes sense.

I was originally going to add this to my own Sims 2 forum, Cosy Corner Sims 2 - Home
But decided against it, as these interviews are more appropriate here.

Ephraim's 'Rainy Day'

2009-05-11T00:26:00.022+01:00

He knew the score with vampires ... he'd seen the movies ... read the books. But where the fuck could you get hold of holy water, garlic, a wooden stake and especially bright sunlight ... at midnight, here on board a yacht, moored off shore?

A fucking vampire!!!

He could only watch helplessly, as the creature called Caleb, snarled and writhed before him. Sam also realised that any movement (if he could even manage any) would be useless, as vampires were notoriously fast ... lightning fast.

Before he could blink an eyes, Caleb would be onto him, sinking his teeth into Sam's neck and drinking his blood...

There was a sound ... like glass shattering. Ephraim cursed, snapping his head up. His companion, Barnaby, a huge hulking Bull Mastiff, lifted his old head up and growled, baring his teeth.

"Damned kids," he muttered, snapping his lap top closed, "S'okay buddy, I gotcha."

Usually, Ephraim, once in 'the Zone', could write for hours, often forgetting the time until his eyes started watering from looking at the screen. But not today. Thanks to yet another bout of vandalism, his concentration had been cruelly broken, his creative juices drying up in mid flow.

Just as he was getting to the best part of the story.

He leaned down and scratched behind Barnaby's ear, and was rewarded with a snuffle and a heavy thumping tail.

If it wasn't enough, having adoring ... yet, VERY creepy fans, chipping souvenirs from the gargoyles guarding the front entrance of his mansion. It was drunken teenagers throwing stones at the windows for a dare. Thank goodness they hadn't touched the commissioned window he'd had created. A scene from one of his books no less. If they'd touched that one, there'd be hell to pay.

Being a successful Gothic/Horror writer, was no easy task for Ephraim (real name Julius).

Having to meet deadlines, checking in with his agent for any signing dates he may have missed. Answering his ever increasing fan base. It was little wonder he managed to actually sit down and write stuff. But would he swap this for the world?

Hardly.

This was his chance to shine. And he did so spectacularly.

Thank goodness for his haven. This beautiful 17th century mansion with it's stone work and Gothic influences. He could hide away in here and let his imagination run riot.

There was just one thing that really bothered him. Because of it's apparent 'spookiness'. Darkling Manor had gained its own notoriety and attracted people from all walks of life. But to Ephraim, it was ... home. With it's thickly built stone walls and solid architecture.

However .... even with the security in place, there was always a risk of someone breaking in. He feared the day that a deranged fan would confront him..... or steal away Barnaby, his faithful companion and lifelong friend.

They'd been through so much together. From the minute he set eyes upon this ugly little puppy with its squashed up nose and 'screw you' attitude. That's what brought the two of them together.

Along with his passion for writing, and his love of Barnaby, Ephraim adored his fans... truly. But there were some out there that had difficulty distinguishing real life from fiction. And that's what truly scared him.

It didn't help that he dressed the part too. Especially those piercing, amber eyes and that pale, bone white skin.

They were his trademark, that coincided with the overall 'look'. That was his style and he was comfortable with it. If anybody had any problems with the way he dressed... tough. There was no way he was going to change. Not now, not ever.

He'd been interviewed on several occasions, and each time, the same questions always cropped up.

Are those eye for real? Or are they contacts? Is that make-up you're wearing, or are you truly a vampire? Do you ever go out in the sun? Your skin is so pale.

Ephraim could only smile secretively, saying nothing at all, keeping that air of mystery around him at all times. And it worked.... to a degree.

Pinching his nose and scrunching his eyes, he sighed deeply. He had to take a look, see the damage for himself, and hope that there was nobody standing there waiting for him. Sure enough, laid on the floor was a scattering of shattered glass and in the middle, a mis-shapen rock. The shards twinkled in the moonlight as Ephraim felt the breeze coming from the jagged gap. He was growing tired of this vandalism. All because the mansion itself had a history behind it. He loved the place and was reluctant to give it up just yet.

Sighing again, he went in search of the dust pan and brush, and the roll of duct tape he kept handy too. He was getting fairly adept with quick repairs lately, and resumed cleaning up the mess and taping up the window.

There was only one thing for it.
He had to move.
And the mansion was coming with him.

Dry of his creative 'flow', he went back to his lap top and logged online to check out costs for transportation of the entire building .... and came across an accomplished real estate/property developer called Alec Thompson. His web page had recommendations by the bucket load and his business was indeed reputable. It also mentioned that he was residing in a sleepy little village called Cloverdale.

From what he'd seen....
.... surrounded by mountains, a great black lake and plenty of acreage everywhere....
... it was idyllic....
Actually, it was perfect....

There was just a small matter of finding out if Alec was up to the task.
Money was no object, as Ephraim had spent little of it, saving the rest for a rainy day.

And today, that rainy day had just arrived.
In the nick of time.

A Tale of Three 'Muses'

2009-05-04T07:09:00.021+01:00

Sonia felt so privileged... so happy... so....

Words couldn't really describe exactly how she felt, but she was definitely elated. She was married to a most wonderful (if not anal, but that's a whole different kettle of fish story) man called Andrew who bought her whatever she wanted... within reason (and depending on their budget of course).

He was her first 'Muse'.

Buddy, a great doofus of a St Bernard, was her second.

Her third Muse was about to come crashing into her life pretty soon. Whether she liked it or not.

It was a fairly bright sunny day, but the clouds were gathering. So, to keep herself occupied, she decided to sequester herself in her study to paint.

Andrew was at work, and her only other companion was Buddy, a big, St Bernard dog whose task it was, was to destroy furniture. Especially when he was bored or wanted to go for a walk.

Like today.

Barely even putting acrylic to the canvas, Sonia heard the distinctive sound of fabric ripping and dashed into the front room, just in time to see Buddy, his head buried deep in the stuffing of an old, saggy, but very comfortable settee.

Gasping out loud, Sonia's eyes filled with tears as she could watch with mounting horror at the scale of his destruction.

Money was tight at present and they couldn't really afford to replace any of the furniture. The restoration of the cottage took a huge chunk out of their savings as it is.

"Oh, good Lord... Buddy!" she wailed, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and hauling him bodily away.

Not used to having any pets, she was having difficulty maintaining boundaries with this head strong animal. Besides, this old settee was a favourite of Buddy's. He'd targeted it, the very minute he arrived home from the dog shelter. Rolling all over it, ragging the edges to bits....

Sonia recalled that very moment with sheer clarity. A huge beast, bounding through the door and heading straight for the settee. Her husband trailing afterwards holding the broken leash in his hand and looking harassed and sheepish.

"I'm sorry hunny," he said, guilt written all over his face, "he's just too darned strong."

She could only shake her head and roll her eyes.

"I swear, they told me he was fully house trained and everything."

They hadn't been in the cottage that long and had spent a good portion of the time renovating and restoring it to it's original quirkiness. And now, Buddy threatened to undo everything.

"I swear," Sonia muttered, "I swear... you just don't think.... at times."

But that didn't stop Buddy from worming himself into their home and their hearts. When he wanted to, he could behave himself. Only if he wanted to... that is.

"Want to go walkies?" Sonia asked, snapping back to the present.

Buddy bounced around, barking excitedly and wagging his tail so hard, she could have sworn it was going to fall off soon. Grabbing the leash, she patted her thigh.

"Here boy!"

His eyes danced with joy as he trotted up to her......
.... and promptly rolled over onto his back showing his belly.

Sonia chuckled softly.

"You silly bugger you."

Maxmillian was deeply disappointed. He'd had hoped that the shelter could have kept Buddy on for that little bit longer until he could find a decent place, rather than that poky apartment with the NO PETS rule. But no. They were bursting at the seams as it was. At least he went to a great home.

He hoped.

It was time for his monthly assessments, checking on new owners and their adopted pets. Just to see if they'd settled in okay, had their boosters kept up to date.. you know... the whole shebang.
Buddy's visit was the last on the list and Maxmillian was eager to see him once more. See if this huge loping beast still remembered him.

He pulled up outside and got out, just in time to see Buddy and his new owner playing fetch. That was a good sign. At least he was settling in well.

Suddenly, without warning, Buddy whipped around and growled fiercely.

The female, whose back was turned, stood up and turned. Max's eyes popped open. This was Buddy's new owner?

From what he'd gathered, the new owner was a guy. Stiff and formal, a no nonsense type of guy who (in Max's eyes) would have you standing on newspaper at the front door. So that you wouldn't trail dirt into the house.

But this woman was so completely the opposite of that guy. She had smudges of paint on her fingertips and her scarf was tied haphazardly around her neck.

And she had the greenest of eyes he'd ever seen.

"Buddy!"

Oh god, even her voice was beautiful.

"Stop that... right ... now!"

"That's okay," Max replied, stepping forward.

Sonia regarded him shrewdly.

Nobody hardly passed by here, unless it was by car, driving at full tilt, it's destination... Downtown. She eyed him carefully. Spiky blond hair, intense blue eyes and a well muscled figure that could only come from working out at a gym. He was the polar opposite of her hubby Andrew.

"I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself.... I'm Maxmillian.... Max for short."

He held out his hand and waited for her to shake it, his heart palpitating at the prospects of her touch. Albeit briefly. Which.... in this case... it was. She gripped his fingers then let go, stepping back.

"I'm from the shelter. Here to see how Buddy's settling in."

Instantly, this cautious woman relaxed a little.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, "I'm just not used to people calling in unexpectedly. You hear some really terrible stories about burglaries, murders etc ... I didn't mean to be so cautious."

"That's okay, I understand."

He looked at Buddy, who'd dropped his 'macho' image and was rolling about in the soil, covering himself in dust and leaves. Sonia just chuckled.

"He does that a lot," she explained, "he's such a character really."

Stooping down, she reached over and rubbed his belly again. He responded with a heavy thumping tail and his big pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

"You silly bugger."

There was a sudden breeze that whipped up from the lake and with it, the first spots of fine rain.

"Um, perhaps we should get inside," Sonia suggested, "I'll go put the kettle on."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Max replied, smiling to himself, "a nice cup of hot coffee would go down a treat... thanks."

Buddy bounced in first, the door almost coming off it's hinges as it crashed into the wall and rebounded back.

Max couldn't help noticing little things around the cottage. How 'homely' and comfortable it looked. But the sound of fabric tearing, soon pulled him out of his musings.

"I'm sorry," Sonia said sheepishly, "he keeps doing that all the time. We can't seem to stop him."

"BUDDY!" Max yelled, wagging a stern finger at the St Bernard.

Buddy instantly cowered, his ear back, tail drooping and huge huge eyes looking all folorn.

"You've got to be firm with him. That's all. Show him who the boss is in the house, otherwise he'll completely take over and become unruly."

"Oh, thanks for the tip."

He watched as she filled the coffee machine up.

"How about I suggest obedience classes?"

"Umm.... well.... I'm not so sure."

"It'll be fun."

"I won't know anybody there."

"Yes you will..... me.... I'm the one running it. It's fun.... really."

"I'll think about it."

They both glanced across at Buddy, who'd forgotten about his lecture from Max and was happily gnawing at a rubber bone.

"One or two?"

"Huh?"

"Do you take sugar in your coffee?"

"Um, no thanks... sweet enough."

She handed him a mug of coffee and he sipped it thoughtfully.

Wondering if he would ever settle down somewhere like this. His apartment was nowhere near as nice as this.....

Dang, it sucked being single. Truly, it did. She had one VERY lucky fella.

"About your visit?" she prompted, pulling him from his reverie, "what do you need to know?"

"Oh... umm...well.... it's.."

Dammit, he was flustered and couldn't articulate properly. he took another sip of his coffee to gather his thoughts.

"Well..... it's just a routine check to see if Buddy is settling in well, being fed properly etc. Nothing much really. A few standard questions, then I'll go back to the shelter and file my report."

"Oh, okay."

"But from the looks of things, I can see that, apart from the boundaries issue, Buddy's settled into his new home really well."

He finished his coffee and strolled up to Buddy, stroking the dog's huge head.

"Isn't that right old fella?"

Buddy woofed and wagged his tail, drool dripping down from his jowls as he panted happily at Max.

"Anyway, I'd better get going. Put my reports in at the shelter before the office closes up for the night. Thanks for the coffee and the hospitality."

"You are most welcome. It's a shame my hubby wasn't around to talk to you."

Max just smiled quietly.

No, not really.

It gave him the chance to see a wonderful, youthful woman with a big heart to chat to. He gave Buddy one last pat on the head.

"See you around Buddy," he said grinning, "maybe your mistress will take you to obedience classes huh?"

He climbed into his jeep, Sonia had to hang onto Buddy's collar to stop him from joining Max, and waved with her free hand as Max backed out of the drive and out onto the road.

It was really nice seeing Buddy's new owner. And he was really looking forward to seeing her again. Even if it was a 'chance' encounter.

In the meantime, Sonia looked down at Max and grinned. The drizzle was still thick in the air, but that wasn't about to stop Buddy's never ending enthusiasm.

"Well, Buddy," she said, patting his damp head, "still want to go for that walk?"

He barked happily and tugged his head forward.

"Guess that means.... yes."

Brooke Makes a Decision

2009-01-28T13:37:00.008Z

"Deano?" Brooke called out hesitantly, her hand was shaking as she pulled at the door handle. Inside, she could hear raised voices, that had suddenly switched from obvious amorous giggling, to an angry exchange of words.

Perhaps she shouldn't enter after all, especially if Deano was having some trouble.
But there again, he may need her help. Especially if this now extremely shrill woman (she was quick enough to establish), was going to cause some trouble.

Deano, in the meantime, was in a real dilemma. He heard Brooke's soft voice outside, above the angry and potentially ear piercing voice of Charity.

Outside was Brooke, wanting to come in. Inside was Charity, refusing to leave and causing such a scene, enough to break the sound barrier.

He didn't want this to happen....
.... but it had.....

..... and he was powerless to stop the forthcoming chain of events.

"For crying out loud Chaz," he thundered, "can you please, put a sock in it and calm down? Enough with the dramatics already. You're giving me a headache."

"Headache?!" snorted Charity, even louder than before, "that's a new one on me. Never gave you any excuses before."

Deano rolled his eyes. From his point of view, there was no way out. It was a firing line, and he just had to stand and take what was thrown at him.

Massaging his temples, he sighed heavily and groaned.

"Chaz, please, don't make this any more difficult than it is. Brooke is coming through that door and your screaming and shouting isn't helping at all. I really can't think straight here with you yelling in my ear."

Planting her hands firmly on her hips, Charity sneered, her pretty face contorted in an evil grin.

"You're in a real fix here," she said, contempt dripping like acid from her tongue, "aren't you?"

They both fell into an uncomfortable silence. The tension between them was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

In the meantime, Brooke was stalling for time. Convincing herself that what was going on inside, was just an argument, and nothing more. But deep in her heart, in her soul, she knew what Deano was like. He couldn't help himself, falling in love with any pretty girl that batted her eyelashes at him. They'd been down this road too many times recently. Far too many to count on one single hand.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she let her hand slide from the door handle, a single unhurried tear trailed down her cheek and she swallowed hard.

This was going to be the most difficult decision of her life. If she couldn't do it, nobody could.
Swiping her hand across her face, she turned and walked down the trailer steps.

Away from Deano.

And into the big 'unknown'.

She was in deep, pensive thought as she passed the stranger dressed in black, a look of concern written clearly on his face. Her dad was right. Deano was trouble, and she'd been blinded against his faults.

"Hi," said the man in black, "penny for them?"

His voice was soft and gentle, like caressing waves across a sandy beach. She gave him a passing glance and a quick smile.

"Hi," she replied, forcing a brave smile, "nah, it's okay, I'm fine."

Father Thomas realised that this wasn't exactly the right time for introductions, but he really felt for this sad, lonely woman. He offered his hand and automatically she took it, feeling the soft fleshy palm, in places there were callouses. This was a hand that seen some really hard work.
There was something else too, but she couldn't quite place it.

Besides, she was just in the process of letting Deano go, and another relationship so soon, just wouldn't feel right.

Then she saw the dog collar and blushed. A priest. How typical. And at that precise moment too. Perhaps her prayers had been answered. Or was this one of Nature's cruellest jokes?

But looking into this man's impassive face, she couldn't help noticing the finely chiselled bone structure and those gentle grey/green eyes behind those frameless glasses.

His mouth curved up into a gentle smile. But what she noticed most of all, was the fact that he blushed uncontrollably, casting his glance downwards whenever their eyes made contact.

It was plainly obvious that he was extremely shy around people. And judging by his lightly tanned skin, he spent a lot of time working outdoors.

"I'm..... Father Thomas Macguire," he stuttered, his mouth felt dry and he had to force the words.
It had been a while since he'd spoken to a female. Especially a very attractive one too....

"I'm Brooke," she replied, as pleasantly as possible.

Now wasn't exactly the right time for pleasantries, but, she'd been brought up to be polite, and she didn't want to appear rude.

"I live just up the road, Rose Cottage," she blurted out, "you've probably passed it en route here..."

Suddenly her mouth clamped shut. What the hell was she thinking? Giving a complete stranger her home address? Her relationship with Deano had hardly had time to go cold and here she was, practically inviting someone else home for coffee!!!

There was an uncomfortable pause, broken only by Father Thomas coughing softly. He shuffled his feet and glanced at his watch.

"I'd better go," he said hastily, "I'm due at the boarding school, they're expecting me."

"That's okay," Brooke replied, a soft smile played on her lips, "I'd better be heading off home too. It's been quite an eventful day today."

He nodded in agreement and they went their separate ways.

Father Thomas a little more buoyancy in his step, at having met a very pleasant, yet deeply troubled young lady like Brooke.

Brooke, in the meantime, dragged her leaden feet as she made her way home. He mind was in a turmoil, and tears once again started to spill from her eyes. She dreaded the thoughts of being alone. But more to the point, she dreaded telling her father too, knowing that he'd been right all along.

TJ's Odd Behaviour

2008-09-03T12:30:00.004+01:00

TJ sat quietly in the trailer, watching cartoons on the tv. It was still raining outside and he didn't want to get wet.

His dad's old fixer-upper was waiting patiently, gently rusting away to nothing.
But something was on his mind.

Well, rather, someone.
Sammi, the girl who beat him up.
The scratches weren't supposed to be a trophy, but somehow, he found himself wearing them with a weird sense of pride. After all, she was the first one who bested him, beat him at his own game.

Admittedly, he wanted to mash her brains out, who wouldn't? She'd dented his male pride. But still, he couldn't help admiring her grit and determination.

Oh, he'd get even.

Eventually.

But for now, he just wanted to be alone and lick his sore wounds.

"Ma?" asked Seth, looking up at his mother, "what's wrong with TJ?"

"I don't know son," she replied, her eyes down cast.

She too, had been pondering the same question, ever since he came back to home base covered in cuts and bruises. Since then, he'd hidden himself away indoors, keeping quietly to himself. It wasn't like him at all.

Hail or snow, he'd be found, tinkering with that 'rust bucket' outside. But it stood there, unloved and untouched. It was the last thing belonging to his dad before he 'passed away'.

And TJ, in keeping his father's memory alive, spent most of his time tinkering with this clapped out heap of junk.

It was a short sharp shower, but still, TJ remained indoors.
Enid looked at her daughter, and then at the spiky haired young girl, making a fuss of a stray dog that often wandered past, begging scraps.

Hmm, perhaps this was the reason for his sudden disappearance?
They passed each other knowing glances.

"Sue," said her mother, "I think it's time to give TJ a little 'talk'."

Susan sighed heavily. Oh they grow up so quickly, and she'd dreaded this day for a long while. Always putting it off. Sadly, he was at that perfect age now.

Seth pricked up his ears.

"Ooohh," piped up Seth, his face all sticky with jelly, "is TJ in trouble?"

Enid smiled down at her youngest grandson and shook her head.

"No he's not," she replied, ruffling his hair, "now eat all up and help granny with the washing up."

Seth didn't need to be told twice. Gulping down the last of his 'treat', he immediately sprang from his chair and gathered all the plates together.

Is There a Doctor in the House?

2008-09-03T10:49:00.006+01:00

Aahh, this is the life, thought Lisa, flipping the pages of her Fire Safety book (you can't be too careful you know).

She looked forward to her weekends, relaxing, reading, birdwatching, socializing with her new neighbours. Lisa took her hobbies very seriously.

Sundays were her favourite days. Lazy mornings followed by a hearty breakfast and time to do the crossword.

She'd only just moved into the new place, and was thoroughly settling in well.

She remembered the day she viewed this property. She'd had to return home to her parents after her marriage failed. She'd caught her husband sleeping with the secretary at her medical practice.

He didn't even try to deny it and walked out of her life forever. Obviously, because the house was in his name, she was the one that had to leave.

Lisa wasn't exactly in the market for property, but the ramblings of her father and his constant bowel movements, reminded her too much of work. So she decided to search for a suitable property.

And she found one, on the outskirts of town, close to a tiny little village called Cloverdale.
It looked quite imposing, with a fortress style feel about it, but once inside, the interior was luxurious.

Nervously, she asked to look at one of the apartments and was impressed.
It was darkly decorated with mahogany wood panels, but she could change all of that much later on if she wanted to.

Excitedly, she signed the tenants agreement and went home to start packing.

Once she'd settled in, she decided to meet and socialize with a few of the other tenants, finding that one of them knew the landlady very well and negotiated a discount on her rent.

He was a little 'wild', but that didn't matter. At least she'd found someone to chat to on an evening.

There was a small parlour where tenants hung out, listening to the radio, or even wiggling their 'booty', much to the entertainment of the others.

But it wasn't all 'play' for Lisa.

She was a doctor at the local medical practice and had quite a handful of patients to look after. Some were more compliant than others.

One in particular intrigued her. Frank Isaac.
He was a stubborn old man, refusing to be examined by a woman and getting himself in a knot because she was the only doctor on call that day.

Theirs was a 'love/hate' relationship.

She only hoped that her 'way' of doing things would be accepted in this sleepy little town.

Chapter Twenty One - Frank loses his temper and becomes a hero

2008-08-04T03:11:00.009+01:00

Frank felt a little guilty for sabotaging the shower. But he was fed up of seeing Brooke sitting there, waiting for the phone to ring. Her face showing obvious signs of disappointment every time it was a wrong number.

Frank was right, Deano, her current boyfriend, was definitely bad news, but he'd tried several (unsuccessful) times to let her know.

Trouble was, their personalities clashed, as they were too alike.
They disagreed on everything.

So, he devised a plan to get Brooke and Alec together. They'd met only briefly, and he was impressed at how polite and modest Alec was, despite his obvious wealth. But Brooke wasn't having it. She declared that Alec was 'dull' and boring. They had nothing in common.

And besides, he was her boss, and there were certain 'rules' in the workplace about dating fellow workers.

But Frank was totally unfazed by all this. By hook or by crook, he was going to separate Brooke from that greasebag Deano and hopefully set Brooke and Alec on the route towards wedded bliss.

But things didn't exactly go as planned. Brooke stormed out of the house in a real nasty mood. Frank realised that this didn't bode well for his matchmaking plans, but kept unusually quiet about it all, preferring to read the newspaper instead.

After a particularly enthralling piece of news concerning the local Garden Club, Frank realised that Brooke hadn't returned home yet. He glanced at the clock and frowned.

He understood that she was capable of looking after herself, but he was getting a little concerned at how long she'd been out of the house. Surely it wasn't to avoid him? He wasn't that insufferable....

Was he????

Sighing heavily, he neatly folded the paper and placed it symmetrically on the coffee table and eased himself out of his favourite recliner. His hip protested, giving him some jarring pains, but he grimaced, grit his teeth and managed to stand upright.

Wobbling unsteadily, he shuffled his way to the window and looked out. The weather looked promising, with just a few looming black clouds ahead.

Perhaps he could manage to take himself off for a walk? It's not as if his doctor had banned him completely from exercise.

"Once you feel up to it," she said, peering over her glasses at him, "you can do some gentle exercise. Slow, gentle walks, as long as they're not too far uphill. Or too great a distance. You're hip needs time to heal properly, and falling again just won't help in that procedure."

He recalled the day he met Dr Lisa Wells. He was prepared to hate her on sight as she'd taken over from Dr Ronnie Sugar, his old family doctor, who'd reached retirement age.

But she had such a no nonsense approach, and quite a winning smile, that he'd soon forgotten his prejudices about female general practitioners.

Besides, she was literally 'onto the case' when he broke his hip, getting him into the operating theatre almost immediately.

Stretching awkwardly, and feeling his other joints popping, he stuck his hands in his pockets and slowly made his way outside.

At first glance, the terrain seemed a little hilly and daunting, but those inclines were gentle ones, and not too strenuous on his muscles. He glanced critically at the garden, but smiled to himself. She'd made such a beautiful job of tending to everything.

Looming in the distance, was an apartment block. It was a blot on the landscape, that's for sure, and stuck out like a sore thumb.

---------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, in the eager rush to get to his destination, Father Thomas had forgotten a few pieces of vital paperwork. These were the case studies of a couple of new boys, due to be integrated into the boarding school.

It wasn't until lunch time, that the Bishop found them. Sighing heavily, he decided to make a stop over at the forwarding address Father Thomas had left him.

Pulling up in the car, he groaned at this bright, modern, monster apartment block.
Hopefully, he'd catch Father Thomas in time.
He'd already called the boarding school, but the caretaker told him that Father Thomas hadn't arrived yet.

Climbing the steps, he was greeted by a soft purring, and looked down, to see a sleek Siamese cat, weaving it's body around his black trousers.

Growling with irritation, he took a hefty kick at the cat, who, after emptying his bladder, instantly turned on him, scratching him deeply on the arm, before fleeing yowling into the apartment.

Frank just happened to arrive at that precise moment, to witness the event.

Sickened to his stomach, he hobbled up the stairs, his face pale with anger, strode up to the Bishop.....

.... and promptly slapped him in the face.

"I don't care if you're a man of the cloth and you hide behind God's work!" he cried, shaking with rage, "that was a cruel act you just did there and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You wicked man."

Unfazed, the Bishop leaned forward in a threatening manner. By now, he was tired from travelling, hungry because he'd missed lunch. And irritated because a feeble old man was threatening him for taking his foot to a rather annoying cat. And to top it all, Father Thomas wasn't at the apartment after all. So basically, it had been a wasted journey.

"Oh yeah?" he growled, "what are you going to do about it?"

"Are you threatening me?" Frank retorted, but his bravado was failing fast. His health was poor and he knew he couldn't stand a chance against this, possibly, much healthier, stronger man.

In the meantime, inside the apartment, Pistachio, his pride and his ribs, bruised, sped around the floor, swatting anything with his paws and tearing around like a looney.
How dare that man kick him so brutally. After that lovely greeting he gave to him. The self same one he gave to everyone new.

And the indignity of having his bladder emptied so unceremoniously....
.... in public too, not a single litter box in sight.

He had a reputation to maintain. And having publicly wet himself, he was sure that that reputation was totally shot. What would everybody else think? He shook himself, his soft fur rippling, shuddering at the thought of losing face.

Ohhh, he'd soon show them who was boss. Especially that man in the funny black outfit. He'd claw his hands to shreds if he came any closer.......

Besides, that man in the funny coloured pants, who smelled like soil and soap....
... now he was Pistachio's hero.

He waited patiently as this gentle old man, made his way slowly up the steps towards him, before winding himself around those tartan pants, purring contentedly.

Frank reached down and petted Pistachio, scratching behind his ear.

"There you go, you silly old cat," he murmured, "that'll teach you to be over friendly to strangers."

Pistachio just looked up at him gratefully.
His hero.

Chapter Twenty - Sammi meets an enemy, Ewan makes a friend

2008-06-26T09:13:00.020+01:00

Whilst Sammi was stretched out on the floor, wallowing in her own self inflicted misery, watching as thunderclouds gathered overhead, a shadow fell across her face and she squinted, looking up.

Standing before her, with arms folded and a wry smile on his face, was a teenage boy, not much older than herself. Instantly she felt her skin bristle and she scrambled to her feet.

"What are you staring at?" she demanded, planting her feet firmly apart, gearing herself up for a fight.

"What do you care," came the retort, "Porcupine."

Sammi felt the blood rush to her face as she felt her temper boiling.

"Don't call me that!" she hissed, pulling her face into a very unflattering pucker.

"I'll call you what I want, it's MY territory here, PORCUPINE!!!"

Instantly, Sammi lunged forward, her fists flying, but TJ was too quick and feinted to the right, as a perfectly formed fist whistled through the air close to his ear.

"Whoa! Steady on there Porcupine, you nearly got me!"

His mocking laughter didn't help Sammi's mood any as she lashed out again. This time he was ready for her and grabbed for her thin waist.

But she was too quick and held him in a headlock.He was amazed at her strength as he struggled with her. By now it had began to rain, hard, and the water trickled down the nape of his neck as they both wrestled.

Snarling and spitting, she was no worse than a wildcat. All her pent-up fury had amassed together in this one singular moment, and she simply let fly....

-------------------------------------------

Ewan skidded to a halt, when he realised he'd gone too far and Sammi was nowhere in sight. Huge tears started rolling down his face and he pooched out his bottom lip.

It was then that a kindly female voice startled him, making him jump.

"Hey there, you look lost."

His head whipped around and his blurry vision fixed on a tall, dark haired woman leaning against a trailer door. Wiping his eyes, he sniffed loudly and nodded.

A tousled haired little boy, Ewan supposed was the same age as himself, peered around from behind her legs, he was carrying a plate with what looked like homemade berry pie.

The smell made Ewan's mouth water and his stomach growl. Oh how he wished he could have some fruit pie. It smelled so delicious.

"Would you like some?" the kind lady offered, "there's plenty here, Ma's just made a big batch of it."

"Who are you talking to Sue?" a gravelly, yet not unkind voice drifted out from within the trailer.

"Oh, a young gentleman," came the reply, followed by a warm smile.

"It had better not be that young 'un that our Timmy hangs around with. Tell him to buzz off!!"

Susan chuckled, wiping her hands on a cloth.

"No, this one's younger....." she said, tipping Ewan a wink, ..... and he's got red hair."

"OOOhhhh, hang on there, I'll be right out. Never had a red haired young man around here before. This I gotta see."

There was a lot of commotion as pots and pans were reorganised, before a tall, thin, grey haired woman peered out of the door.

"Oh my." gasped the old woman, "isn't he a cutie?"

Ewan could feel himself blushing and dropped his gaze shyly, trailing his sneaker in the dirt before him.

"And what's your name young man?"

"Ewan, ma'am."

Ewan, barely whispered his own name as he stood there in complete awe of this family. They were nothing the way he'd imagined trailer folks, with dirty clothing, beer bellies, smelling filthy and swearing a lot. In fact, to Ewan, at that precise moment, they were royalty.

"Ohh, handsome name for a handsome man."

Ewan's blush deepened as he wished the ground to swallow him. He'd never had so many compliments in his young life, and didn't know how to take them.

"Seth!" barked the old woman, making Ewan nearly jump out of his skin, "get your fingers out of my pies! They're supposed to be for the county fair tomorrow."

"Sorry Nan," Seth replied, licking his jam covered fingers, "but I's still hungry."

"There's some pie already cut on the table, go get yourself some."

She turned to Ewan, grinning.

"Oh, and get some for our young guest too."

Ewan's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He was getting some pie!!!! And he didn't even have to ask!!!!

Susan pulled out a chair and Ewan sat down gingerly, unable to believe that he was made welcome by these kind strangers. Swinging his legs, he waited in anticipation, with fork in hand as Seth trotted out of the trailer, balancing two plates at once.

The smell of cherries was unmistakeable but Ewan delicately dug in his fork and savoured the flavour. He was brought up with table manners after all.

The sugary sweetness melted over his tongue and caressed his throat as he swallowed the first bite. Every now and then, he'd look up and see everyone else seated at the table, or standing around, eating the same pie. It felt so homely and welcoming.

But he soon forgot those table manners as hunger swept over him and he gobbled up every last morsel, careful not to get anything all over his face and clothes.

"Was that good?" Susan asked as she cleared the plates.

Ewan nodded happily, his eyes wide with wonder at this happy little family unit. He wondered if his family would ever be like that. For now, all they seemed to do was to move around, and his sister and mother would argue all the time.

"We have some jelly," Susan offered, watching Ewan staring intently at the jiggling concoction sitting on the table.

Ewan's eyes were like saucers. Never had he seen so much food in his life.

"Hey," said Seth, leaping down from his chair, "wanna go play tag or something?"

Ewan nodded, eager that he'd made a new friend, and slid off his chair.

He'd just started to play tag when suddenly he skidded to a grinding halt, a queasy feeling churned in the pit of his stomach.

The smile slid from his face though, as he went a funny shade of green and promptly vomited up that delicious pie. His poor shrunken stomach wasn't used to rich food or large portions.

Instantly, he started to cry, realising that his top was ruined and he'd embarrassed himself once again, in front of strangers.

"Hey," crooned the old woman, dabbing the excess vomit from his shirt, "it's okay."

Ewan shook his head miserably. After all that hospitality they'd given him, and he'd ruined it by being sick.

But attention was soon diverted when Susan yelled out loudly.

"Timothy!! What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing Ma," came the grouchy, grumbled reply, as a tall teenager came into view.

From Ewan's point of view, he looked a lot worse off than himself. His tee shirt was caked in mud and he was sporting a black eye and deep scratches.

"Who did you get into a fight with this time Timothy?"

"Nobody Ma, and don't call me Timothy, it's TJ ok?"

His good eye scanned Ewan critically.

"Who's the stray?"

"Timothy, that's not a nice thing to say to our guests. This is Ewan, Ewan this is my oldest son Timothy."

"TJ." he corrected hastily, flinching as his mother reached forward to touch his cheek.

"Whoever it was," she said gravely, "they messed you up pretty badly."

TJ grimaced.

Luckily for him, there were no other witnesses there to see him getting his butt kicked by a girl.

"Come here and give your Ma a big hug why don'tcha?"

"Aww Ma," TJ protested, casting a nervous glance towards a very observant Ewan.

"I'll let you have extra portions of Nan's cherry pie," she winked.

With that, TJ folded himself gingerly into his mother's arms, that feeling of warmth emanating from her.

"Thanks Ma," he said, trying his hardest to smile, "your the best."

Chapter Nineteen - Second Chances

2008-06-18T22:47:00.019+01:00

Sammi stood, a look of sheer disbelief pasted on her face. She was prepared to hate the new premises.

And quite rightly so.

Of all the places to stay, this one must be the worst. A shambling trailer park with dirty, rusty, broken vehicles parked up on the grassy verges, some even propped up by bricks, parts missing....

...... and the smell.

It was a mixture of diesel oil, man sweat and cat pee.

She couldn't believe her mother had stooped this low. To have taken over her 'ex' boyfriend's trailer.

Prior to their arrival, they had to stand outside the B&B with all their belongings, waiting for a taxi. Sammi showed her displeasure then, with a scowl she'd perfected just for her mother.

She also couldn't believe how easily little Ewan had been drawn into this new 'adventure' so quickly. Surely he could see the squalid conditions they were going to be living in? And the thin metal walls were definitely going to be a real pain too. Many times she'd overheard the grunts and strains of her mother and her latest 'boyfriend'. With even thinner walls between them, this was going to be torture.

Sighing heavily, and for dramatic measure, Sammi flopped to the floor, staring intently at the clouds. Tessa and Ewan completely ignored her, as they stood together, playing pretend, Ewan's tiny little feet planted firmly on his mommy's feet, swinging wildly and giggling with joy.

'Oh how fortunate we all are,' Tessa thought to herself, as she joined in the innocent laughter of her young son, 'to be a whole family unit.'

After their 'slanging' match outside the B&B, Sammi had been completely silent in the taxi ride over here, occasionally throwing icy glares at her mother, but mostly staring darkly out of the taxi window.

But Tessa knew that eventually, the food would start to run out, and there were the bills to pay. Rick had been meticulous about all of that. However, it all fell by the wayside when he landed in prison. Hence the reason behind Tessa taking over the trailer for a short while.

Sammi hated Rick on sight. There was just something seedy and dangerous about him.
She hoped that their stay in his trailer would be a temporary measure until they found somewhere else.

She dreaded the day he'd be released.

Tessa glanced at her watch, frowned, then ruffled Ewan's copper hair.

"I'm sorry sweetie," she said, kissing him, "mommy's going to have to go now."

"To go see him?" came the tart reply.

Tessa sighed, it was obvious she wasn't able to get through to her head-strong, rebellious teenage daughter.

"No," she said slowly, "to go find myself a part time job."

Sammi snorted.

Tessa bit her tongue, holding back her usual impulsive reply. She knew only too well that Sammi was baiting her into having yet another argument. But this time Tessa wasn't rising to it.

She leaned down and gave Ewan a big hug.

"I won't be long, honey," she crooned in his ear, "just keep an eye on your big sister for me, will ya? There's a good boy. I heard that there's a job going nearby, so I'm going to see if I can get in there."

With that, she vanished around the corner, leaving Ewan and Sammi alone.

Sammi groaned and rolled her eyes, lost in her own thoughts as she continued to watch the clouds scudding by, and listening to the screeching of a flock of birds as they flew overhead.

Ewan simply shrugged and started chasing fireflies.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The smell of percolating coffee was over powering, as it mingled with the smell of fried breakfasts.

'The Coffee Pot' had come a long way from the greasy spoon existence out of the back of a beaten up trailer. With the onset of construction sites and new houses popping up all over Cloverdale and surrounding areas, sustenance was greatly needed to keep the workers happy and well fed. And so 'The Coffee Pot' was born, the brainchild of the extremely enterprising young lady who took a risk and it paid off.

Now, standing majestically, in it's own landscaped grounds, it was a testament to the hard work put in by the owner and proprietor, Miranda Kensington. She graduated from college, Magna Cum Laude, two years ago and set up her small business from the money she'd been saving.
Even sacrificing her own dream of becoming a Hall of Famer, just to make sure that all the workers were happy and satisfied from her delicious meals.

She could quite easily have been a Fortune Sim, wanting the best of everything, never satisfied with whatever she had. But, she chose Popularity, as she loved the cheery atmosphere that surrounded the builders and constructions workers. Their bawdy sense of humour and tales of their families.

But cooked meals and coffee cups were the last thing on Miranda's mind as she stood, arms folded, scowling at her twin brother Daryl.

"Oh please sis," he pleaded, "let me help out. I'll make it worth your while."

She shook her head. She'd put far too much into this little business to see it crumble before her.
Daryl had always been a slacker. Relying heavily on Miranda to get him through school, and college.

He was devastated when she graduated a year early, leaving him struggling along with his term papers and assignments.

"No Dal," she said firmly, "you'd mess up all the orders."

Daryl was crestfallen and it showed plainly on his face.

"You're not going to give me a chance, are you," he whined, plumping out his bottom lip.

"Nope, and that's final," came the reply.

"But you're run off your feet all the time," he protested, "I've seen you falling asleep on the settee many evenings, totally exhausted."

He jutted out his chin, normally a cute gesture to win the hearts of many damsels, but Miranda was adamant. There was no way he was going to win her over at all.

"No, Dal, my word is final. Besides, I've already advertised for an assistant to help me out. Hopefully the right candidate will come along and take up some of the slack."

"But think of the savings you'll have if you employ me."

She groaned. He wasn't going to give up at all. She sighed, rubbing her temples, the beginnings of a headache gnawing at her.

"Look, why don't you go and find yourself a job? Please.... Anything to get you out from under my feet. Besides, it's almost lunch time and I've got to get the sandwiches ready. There are a lot of hungry guys out there you know."

Daryl pouted, before stomping up the stairs.

"And don't you be playing games on that computer either!" Miranda called after him.

He waggled his head and grumbled under his breath.

"Yes Mom," he muttered.

"I heard that!"

Miranda was in the middle of cling wrapping a plate of sandwiches, when the doorbell rang.
She answered it to find a scrawny, scantily clad, red-headed woman standing there.

"Can I help you?"

She honestly didn't want this woman anywhere inside the house at all. Her first impression of this heavily made up woman wasn't good at all. But she swallowed her pride anyway, just to give this stranger the benefit of the doubt.

"I'm here about the job," Tessa replied roughly, half expecting this pretty young lady to turn her away.

"Why don't you come in and we can discuss it upstairs?"

Miranda stepped back reluctantly, allowing this crude woman into her premises.

"I'll show you the way."

Unfortunately, at that moment, people started to filter into the coffee house, making themselves feel at home. So a private interview was out of the question.

Miranda motioned to the settee.

"Why don't you take a seat?"

Tessa marvelled at the 'old fashioned' styling throughout this building. And was pleasantly surprised to see it continued in the tiny apartment upstairs. It reminded her of her grandma's place. A real 'home away from home', with the smell of homemade jams and pickling.

"Listen," interrupted Tessa eagerly, "I know I'm not much to look at, but I'm a good, hard worker. I have two kids, a boy and a girl, and I need the money to get food and clothes for them."

"Besides," she continued, "I think I'll be able to bring a bit of 'sunshine' into this job. I'm no fair weather worker, that's for sure."

Miranda was shocked at her frankness and soon forgot her carefully planned speech.

Daryl, who had been sitting in the corner reading, let his jaw hang open at the sight of this woman. It soon gave way to a wicked grin, as he evaluated the situation.
If his sister was to employ this woman, life at 'The Coffee Pot' would never be the same.

The interview was very brief, due to the first batch of workers starting to filter through the doors. But Miranda decided to give Tessa a chance and hired her.

Tessa couldn't thank her enough.

"You have to understand," Miranda explained, "the cafe really gets busy all through the day, with more and more customers filtering in."

"I can do that," Tessa smiled, "I'm used to being busy."

"There's also a lot of food preparation, along with cleaning the tables and stuff."

Tessa nodded eagerly.

"And you'll have to wear an apron had have your hair tied back."

"Hey, no problem."

"So, when do I start?" Tessa asked eagerly.

"Um,"

Already the cafe was starting to fill up with hungry customers, and she'd already fallen behind with the orders.

"Er, how about now?"

She made her way hurriedly down the stairs to make a start on the sandwiches.
"That's great!" Tessa yelled down the stairs, You won't be sorry!" her voice cracking with excitement.

Miranda only hoped that that would be true.

Chapter Eighteen - Major Decision Time

2008-06-13T12:39:00.012+01:00

Kenya Valdin was more than prepared for her domesticated lifestyle.
After all, she was the wife of Sim City's most outstanding, and long running Mayor....
...Raven.

She had to keep up appearances at all costs.
But that didn't stop her from dreaming.

And the biggest dream she had, was to be an Oceanographer.
To travel beneath the sea, study the marine life and experience danger beyond her wildest imagination.

She sighed heavily as she scooped up Kyle in her arms.
Already, the smell of his recently filled diaper, made her eyes water.

But, she'd made a promise to Raven, and married herself to this humdrum life of hers.

Little Skye, she couldn't help noticing, had withdrawn deeper into her own shell, sitting with her head down, studying hard.

Kenya shook her head and wondered if Raven had indeed made the right decision after all.
She recalled how quickly Raven had dashed out of the door earlier that morning, without a single kiss goodbye, leaving her in charge of everything.

Already, one of the dogs had made a beeline to the expensive settee and was taking extreme delight in shredding the upholstery to bits.

Kenya sighed once more, even deeper than before. Thinking about the cost of recovering that settee. Admittedly, there was a fair bit of money left over after the sale of their old house. It more than covered the cost of the purchase of this home and the new furnishings.

But she couldn't help counting the pennies all the time. As her husband himself added once....

"You never know what's around the corner."

That was so true, even now.

She was in the process of potty training Kyle, when she heard the front door slam.
Luckily he'd just finished, so she hastily changed him and let him wander off.

Tentatively she peered into the hallway, just in time to see Raven, standing there, he looked tired and weary. His shoulders slumped slightly and that majestic posture he always maintained, had all but vanished.

"Raven?" asked Kenya tentatively, "what are you doing home so early? Was the grand opening cancelled?"

He shook his head, a wan smile crept over his thin lips.

"I've been thinking," he said, after a long pause.

Kenya held her breath, not knowing what was going to come out of her husband's mouth.
Surely not another move? They'd only just arrived here.

"Actually, I've been thinking a lot recently ....... about us ..... my job ...... everything."

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, enclosing her thin body into a romantic hug. Kenya was startled at first, but soon melted against his chest, delight radiating from her.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear.

It was the first time, from as far back as she could remember, that he'd uttered those words. And they sounded magical.

She pulled away, grinning.

"But why did you come home so early?" she asked, "surely not to declare your love to your wife? You could have easily picked up the phone and called me...... or at least waited until you got home."

"Ah, but then I'd have been so snowed under with bureaucratic mumbo jumbo, that I'd have completely forgotten all about you."

Kenya smiled, basking in Raven's sudden warmth. But there was still something niggling underneath.

Something he wasn't telling her.

Raven shuffled nervously, looking down at his shiny new shoes and twiddling with his Mayoral lapel ribbon.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. He swallowed hard, before turning away with his back to her.

It was then that he dropped the bombshell. It was quietly spoken, but Kenya's trained ears picked up everything.

"I've decided to quit as Mayor." he whispered, unable to meet her gaze.

Kenya stood, shell-shocked, unable to comprehend her husband's speech.

"I understand if you're mad at me," he said, finally, "after all, I dragged you all here, pulled everyone from family and friends. And now this. I just want your opinion, that's all."

A lump came to Kenya's throat as she realised for the first time, Raven was asking her advice and support in his decisions. Something that he never, in all their married life, had ever even crossed his mind. He was so used to taking the lead, deciding everything without her.

But it was on his journey back home, and a few words he remembered from his step mother Imani, that made him realise just how precious Kenya was to him.

He remembered the scene quite clearly. Imani had hauled him reluctantly into her garden, to tend to the weeds. He admitted to not having a green thumb, but followed her anyway, just to keep the peace.

Two hours later and his hands covered in thistle scratches and nettle stings, they were sat together, drinking hot chocolate and having his cuts soothed with antiseptic. It was then that Imani spoke.

"I know you're not my true son," she began, Raven groaned, knowing what was to follow. It was always a well rehearsed speech for Imani. "but I'll always love you as my own."

He nodded slowly, wincing as she dabbed his palm with cotton wool.

"but that's not the reason why I want to talk to you."

His ears pricked up. This was most unusual.

"I can't help but notice lately, how you've been avoiding Kenya and the children. Is there a reason?"

"I'm only working to keep a roof over their heads," he protested.

She nodded.

"That may be so," she replied, "but there are much more important things in life too. And working all those long hours, you're not seeing them. Skye's beginning to drift away from you. And Kyle's first impressions of you are just a man who pats him on the head on a morning when he wakes up. And kisses him on the head when he's sleeping."

Raven could only nod dumbly. He hadn't realised all of this, he'd been so busy working.

"And as for Kenya."

His head snapped up.

"She's a full blooded woman, who needs love and affection. If you continue to ignore her, she's going to stray. Do you want that to happen?"

Raven rolled this memory around his head, all the way back home.
He was used to making snap decisions all the time. After all, it was his job. Nerves weren't an issue at all, he had to keep a cool professional head about him.

But standing there, in the hallway, the distant sounds of Kyle playing his xylophone in the summer room.

And the dogs playing in the kitchen, his nerves were jangling with worry and fear.

The pause was long, deliberate, as Kenya stood, weighing up the pros and cons.
This was an unusual situation she'd been put in. Unusual and unfamiliar territory.
She had the chance to change things, make her own decisions.

Chewing on the inside of her lip, she looked at Raven. He could see her inner turmoil, but waited patiently.

"Of course I'll go ahead with whatever you want to do," she breathed, hoping that was the right answer.

"You will?" came the reply.

She nodded. And he swept her up into an almost bone crushing hug. Clearly delighted that Kenya was with him 100% of the way.

He didn't dare tell her that the reason why he wanted to quit, was because he was booed at the grand opening, by one of the bystanders. And it made him realise that his popularity was beginning to wane.

He also realised that things were going to be a little tight, as he would be starting from the bottom rung again and working his way back to the top.

But this time......

...... things were going to be a little different......

Chapter Seventeen - Lean Times

2008-06-08T17:09:00.012+01:00

Jerome was starting to struggle with the mounting bills. That family 'donation' was dwindling fast and his 'dream job', elusive as ever. He didn't dare ask for more money from his family. It would have meant proving them all right.

He wasn't cut out to live independently. But he had to prove to them that he could. There was no way he was going back to the homestead with his tail tucked neatly between his legs.

He had to admit, sitting daydreaming and chasing bugs soon lost it's sheen and the cupboards were beginning to look bare. His lean muscular body becoming leaner as time went on.

Trouble was, he didn't have the heart in him to stick at anything. As soon as he started a project, he soon lost interest in it.

Buying the robot crafting machine had been a bad move. He thrilled at the idea of turning little cranks and beating out small sheets of metal. But it was a '5' minute wonder, destined to sit in the corner gathering dust.

Besides, there was only so much time you could spend, playing with a toy robot before boredom set in.

His stomach rumbled aggressively as he tried to watch the huge wide screen tv.

Even the sound of a passing wolf, hawking up the remainder of it's dinner on his lawn, didn't distract him this time.

Gone was the prophecy of the old gypsy woman, as harsh reality took precedence instead.

Sighing heavily, he decided once and for all. It was time to get a roomie in.
Posting an ad in the local paper was a mighty struggle, as it took a sizeable chunk out of his depleting budget, but he was hopeful that some good would come from it.

Luckily, posting an ad online wasn't quite as expensive as he soon found out.

Days passed without a single reply. The only sign of life outside, were a few wandering wolves that decided his driveway was a playground.

He became despondent. If nobody replied, then he'd be forced to sell some of his most treasured possessions.

Then one day, it happened. Just as he was lighting the last of the wood he'd collected from one of his 'wanderings', he heard an unfamiliar sound.
The sound of approaching footsteps. Peering out of the window, he saw a pensive looking young man, hovering at the front gate, a newspaper in his hand.

At first glance, Nathan Summers looked lost, then bemused. As if this house shouldn't really be here, at the bottom of this secluded lane. He also looked pretty much confused too, staring up at the neat looking house with it's perfectly manicured gardens and swept pavements.

Surely this house wasn't owned by a man? It was far too neat. It was from a storybook really, with smoke coming from the chimney.

He half expected Hansel & Gretel to come skipping out of the front door.

Perhaps the owner was gay? It was obviously far too tidy otherwise. Not that Nathan was bothered really. All he was interested in, was a roof over his head and food on the table.
After all, he wasn't intending to stay indoors all the time.....

.... he had a busy social life to keep up.

Obviously he hadn't realised that Jerome had had too much time on his hands and kept a tight ship. Also, Jerome's family has a history of being in the military, and that kinda rubbed off on him and his attention to detail.

With a tentative step, he rapped lightly on the door and entered......

Chapter Sixteen - Confrontation

2008-05-26T16:23:00.005+01:00

Charity and Deano were just getting started, their arms and legs entwined in a crazy, passionate lip lock, when all of a sudden, Deano leapt up from the settee.

"Hey," gasped Charity, "who set your ass on fire?"

"I heard something," he replied, his head swivelling towards the trailer door.

Charity reached forward to pull him back onto her, but he stepped back. She scowled, angry and frustrated at his sudden diminished ardour.

Just minutes ago, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Things were getting hot and steamy. And now, here he was, looking like a little boy, caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It's probably the breeze rustling in the trees," she cooed, "come to mama, she'll chase away those scary things for you."

Deano backed away, suddenly mortified by her insensitivity.

"It.... it could be Brooke," he stammered, fighting off her advances.

That was it.

Charity was livid, a scowl twisting her face into an ugly mask.

"So that's how you're going to play it, huh?" Charity was livid. "I'm just a piece of ass to you? Is that it?"

"Heck no!"

"Yeah, well, you can't keep doing this to me. Blowing hot and cold when it suits you. I don't like to be treated like that. And I'm sure that Brooke won't either."

"How do you know Brooke?"

"Heck, she's my friend, we share a lot of stuff together."

Deano was shocked at this revelation. That was all he needed.

"Yep, and it looks as though we're sharing a boyfriend too!"

She chortled at the thought, but it didn't settle too well with Deano at all. This was the last thing on his mind.

"Look!" Deano was now getting defensive and tired of Charity's sudden outburst. "I can't handle this!"

"Well, if that's the case," came the tart reply, "I'm leaving.... I know when I'm not wanted."

She turned to leave and Deano grabbed her arm. She twisted it away.

"Come on Chaz," he pleaded, "I think you're fun to be with.... honestly."

She faked a yawn.

"Oh PLEASE, you're starting to sound like a broken record Deano. I might be fun, but you're not. Not any more."

At that precise moment, the trailer door swung open and Brooke walked in......

Chapter Fifteen - Decisions, decisions

2008-05-26T00:08:00.006+01:00

Brooke stood, her hand hovering near the door handle.
It was the hardest decision of her life as she stood there debating whether or not to enter the trailer.

What if those rumours WERE true? What if Deano was fooling around with someone else?
It would be so easy to barge in there and cause a scene.

It would devastate her if she found him in the arms of another woman.

But there again....

She could barge in and discover that she'd been mistaken all along. The thoughts of humiliating herself, made her skin feel clammy and her mouth dry.

She didn't want to lose Deano. He was the best thing in her life.

Admittedly, he was sloppy and disgusting. She cringed at his cleaning habits. But what the heck, he was a guy after all....
...they did all that sort of stuff

But apart from that, he always made her feel special, as if she was the only woman in the world to him. He also made her laugh at his endless assortment of dirty jokes.

He might have had rough, oily hands from working at the garage, but they could make all her stresses and knotted muscles disappear with a wonderful back massage.

.....and the way he kissed her......

... she felt all tingly inside at the very thought of his lips caressing the back of her hand and trailing feather-light all the way up her arm.

He was a master when it came down to flirting, and she fell for it, hook, line and sinker.
The sweet talk, the body language.

She was a career driven woman, but even then, she'd been drawn in to his roguish charms.

Her heart fluttered at the memories.....

The longer she stood there, the harder it made her decision.

Sighing heavily, her hand reached for the door handle.

It was now or never.....

Chapter Fourteen - Two Troubled Souls

2008-05-21T16:37:00.011+01:00

Cloverdale, although it consists of a few homes scattered sporadically around the entire valley, isn't impervious to the latest dramas that have suddenly sprung up from it's peaceful surroundings.

As we are just about to find out......

Brooke needed time to think.

Yes, she'd acted impulsively and tore shreds out of Alex, who, like a true gentleman, stood there and took the full force of her anger. But she was getting stressed with everything that was going on. The sudden appearance of her elderly father, with his constant nit-picking of her life.....
.... the suspicion that her boyfriend Deano was 'playing the field'.

The broken shower was just the icing on the cake for her.

And now, she needed to take a long, long walk to clear her thoughts.
Yes, she felt guilty for exploding in front of her boss. She realised it was very unprofessional of her.

But what's done is done. She couldn't turn back the clock.
Dipping her shoulders in defeat, she sighed heavily.

"When is this all going to end?" she thought to herself.

The twittering of birds distracted her momentarily as she stared into space, lost in her own thoughts.

Suddenly, Brooke's feet took her walking.....

.... in the direction of Deano's trailer.

She didn't want to go there, but she needed someone to talk to and Charity, her best friend was never around when she needed her. Her cell phone was proof of that.
Several times Brooke had tried to contact Charity, but failed miserably as the voicemail kicked in.

But as she approached, her nerves got the better of her and she paused, wondering if this was a good idea or not......

In the meantime, Father Thomas was still reeling from the shock of his new assignment.
On the long journey by public service bus, he'd been in deep deep thought.
Wondering how he'd walked into this sudden chain of events.

He'd read all the reports and his heart sank even deeper. It was much worse than he'd imagined. Of all the boarding schools around, statistics proved that this one St Mitchells, had the worst reputation....

.... and the poorest, most uneducated in-house boys around.

All thoughts of a beautiful, sand swept beach and adoring faces, retreated hastily from his memory. His face grew ashen underneath the fading tan and he felt physically sick as the Bishop droned on about all the new changes he expected Father Thomas to undertake.

And the most shocking news of all, was that he was expected to start immediately. There was no respite, no preparation. He'd been thrown into his new task feet first.

And now, after a hasty apology from the bus driver, he was about to be dropped off, right in the middle of nowhere.

"Sorry Father," he'd muttered gruffly, "this is as far as I can go. But it's just a short walk along that road."

He pointed a nicotine stained finger in the direction of a long, narrow road that vanished over a hill.

"You can't miss it."

"Thanks," replied Father Thomas, picking up his small valise.

He shot the driver a nervous grin, before turning and making his way along this road.
Behind him, the doors of the bus clanged shut and the spluttering cough of the diesel engine told him that the bus was already leaving.

This was it......

..... no turning back.

Luckily, he was well prepared for a long walk. He astounded himself at the thoughts of wearing walking shoes.
Only a couple of hours previously, he'd fussed himself into a stupor, wondering if it was a good idea to wear these or his brand new, never been worn, shiny shoes that might pinch and cause blisters.

Thinking back, the very idea of fussing over shoes, was ludicrous compared to what lay ahead for Father Thomas.

Just as he was peaking the ridge, his eyes fell on a small trailer.....
.... and the sight of a lost looking woman, stood outside, her shoulders stooped.

Brooke didn't see Father Thomas approaching. Her mind was elsewhere.

Listening to the sounds of giggling emanating from the trailer.......

Chapter Thirteen - Pistachio's sleep is interrupted

2008-05-14T19:34:00.008+01:00

Life was good to Pistachio. Soft, expensive, cashmere sweaters to snuggle into.
Food always delivered on time. And the gentle hands of his mistress Charity, stroking his silky fur.

Oh yes, life WAS good.

She never asked for much, so he never gave it to her. Such was their lives together in this rather spacious apartment block. He was used to her comings and goings, the strange smells that emanated from the legs of many visitors.

Oh yes. What more could he ever ask for?

But that quiet life was just about to come to a jarring end.

It had been one of those lazy summer days. The sun had been streaming through the window, casting a warm beam of light in Pistachio's favourite spot. His mistress's bed. Stretching languidly, his claws snagged on the soft silk covers, pulling them towards him. But he didn't care. He had the whole apartment to himself. His mistress was off somewhere.

Whereabouts, he cared not. As long as his food dish was full and his litter tray cleaned, who cared where his mistress went? She always lavished attention on him, and he loved her for it.

Snoring softly, he was suddenly awakened by a cacophony of noises.
The screech of heavy brakes, clattering and banging, and the shriek of female voices.
His lazy afternoon had just been interrupted. It was going to be ages now, before he'd get back to sleep. Yawning widely, and stretching, arching his sleek back, he hopped lightly from the bed to investigate.

Sliding out of the cat flap, he trotted towards the main entrance, just in time to see two pairs of legs wandering into the lobby. Killer stiletto heels rapped on the wooden floor in a staccato beat, the other pair of shoes shuffled softly, as they made their way towards the elevator.

Pistachio looked up, just in time to make out their faces before the doors swished shut.

The one wearing the killer heels, had a rich mahogany skin, just like his own mistress, but instead of the cascade of curls, her hair was swept neatly at the back, in a snood. Her mouth was turned down at the edges in silent disapproval.

The other pair of shoes belonged to a much sweeter looking person. Her black hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and she always had a ready smile.

Their eyes met fleetingly through the tiny crack in the elevator doors and she said the one word that Pistachio understood.

"Kitty!"

He tilted his head slightly, listening as the pistons and hydraulics set to work, moving them upwards to the floor above. His head swivelled around and looked up at the staircase.
Perhaps he could climb up those and say hello properly.

But instead, he yawned widely.

It was far too warm to be bothered with any physical exertions. And besides, there was a lovely warm spot with his name on it.

Chapter Twelve - A Fresh Start

2008-05-06T00:06:00.010+01:00

The taxi pulled up and they all tumbled out. It was shame they couldn't use dad's personal helicopter, but he told them that it was only used for private and diplomatic functions. Besides, it wouldn't look good if his family was utilising government property, whilst the poor and needy still remain 'poor and needy'. He had to show a good example to all his constituents.

Being the Mayor of Simsville wasn't an easy ride for Raven Valdin. All the pressures of dinner venues, charity events, civil ceremonies. His role of Mayor meant that he was constantly in the public eye. People scrutinized his every move, and that of his family.

Maybe a change of pace was what he was after. He could pull a few strings, get himself a big house on a hill..
Heck, he had plenty of money, he could afford it all.

And that's exactly what Raven did. He went on a countrywide search for another property, and found a prime plot of land, here in sunny and serene Cloverdale. It was quiet enough to relax in, and took him well away from the rat race.

However, this move didn't quite suit everyone. Kenya, his wife for example, wasn't happy about it at all. It meant leaving behind Hunter, her lover (and brother in law).

Skye, their daughter, had 1 day to go before she transitioned into a teenager. Though she was a shy little kid, she had hoped to have a small, informal party to celebrate her 'coming of age', but that was ruined. Moving on the day before her birthday, wasn't exactly what she'd had planned.

All through the journey, she sat quietly, watching the changing scenery scooting by in a blur. Oh how she missed her grandpa. He and grandma were fast reaching their winter days and couldn't travel very well. Besides, Tanis was speedily losing his marbles and was often found wandering around the house in his pyjamas.

Kyle was still too young to understand what was going on and simply sat on Kenya's knee, babbling away to himself and pulling their dog, Maxx's ears.

The taxi was packed to the hilt with the final bits and pieces they needed to complete their final journey.

The house itself looked pretty impressive, considering the small plot of land that Raven had acquired. In Kenya's eyes, he could have done much better for himself. Getting the biggest plot of land and really letting fly with his hard earned money. But once again, he reminded her that it was his 'duty' to set a good example to his constituents. And a modest home would be just perfect for that.

It lacked a garage, and needed some landscaping, but at least it could be called 'home'.

Poor Skye though. She'd barely spoken a few words when her father glowered at her with his arms folded.

"Now then, young lady," he said, his thin lips made even thinner with a scowl, "we've moved quite a long way away. And I've seen the faces you've been pulling all through the journey."

"But dad," she protested, her inky black eyes boring piteously up at her towering father.

"Never mind the 'but dad', routine Skye," he interrupted, "this is our home now, and I expect you to be happy here."

Skye hated this kind of pep talk. She always felt as though she was always in trouble for something. It was there and then that she decided she was going to hate this house....

.... no matter what.

Kenya tried to intervene, but Kyle started whimpering, and complaining that his bottom was wet, so she swiftly picked him up and took him indoors. After a quick change of his nappy, she tried to settle him down for a nap, but he was wide awake.

So she recited a few nursery rhymes instead, much to his delight. Kyle squealed and clapped his hands at the funniest rhymes and grimaced at the bad ones.

Skye, in the meantime, wasn't happy at all. Tiger had used the kitchen as a public toilet and that just wouldn't do at all for her. That was the final straw.

She'd had enough of being lectured by her father, it was time to issue some punishment of her own. Glaring down at poor Tiger, she wagged her finger at him.

His bright curly tail soon stopped wagging and drooped sadly as he took his lecture quite seriously. Yes, he'd been a bad doggie and used the kitchen floor. But he was only marking his territory after all.

Satisfied, Skye wandered over to the activities table, where drawing and scribbling always seemed to calm her down.

A distinct humming sound could be heard outside, as Raven's personal helicopter appeared from nowhere, making a dreadful racket.

Raven looked towards his wife.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, straightening his tie and adjusting his ribbon, "got to go to work, duty calls. I'm going to be out all day. Grand opening of a shopping centre."

Actually, he didn't need to tell his wife of his duties, nor fill her in on his extremely full diary, but, out of habit, he felt it necessary to let her know what he was up to.

Sighing heavily, he clambered into the waiting chopper, groaning at the very thought of opening yet another shopping precinct. To him, the sparkle was fast dying out in his role as Mayor. But could he be that brave to quit and find another job in another field?

The rhythmic sounds of the rotor blades faded into the distance, leaving Kenya to unpack, settle in the kids and walk the dogs.

Luckily for her, they had two well behaved children. And as she cleaned up and tidied around, she smiled warmly to herself as she watched Kyle join in with his sister at the crafts table.

Having another child was way back in her list of priorities. But apparently, that was the thoughts in Raven's mind, as he was making his way out of the door.

Chapter Eleven - Prison Life

2008-02-18T22:40:00.000Z

It was a quiet time for Rick. In fact, it was was always going to be a quiet time. It had been for the past five years of his life. Residing at her majesty's leisure, in the dirtiest, most unpleasant prison he'd encountered in his life.

His only enjoyment, was a good old workout at the prison gymnasium, where he could take out his frustrations with the equipment. Besides, the weather was lousy outside, and he didn't fancy taking his daily walk at all. So, he heaved his large, bulky frame off to the gym for a workout.

Amid the rhythmic clatter of the weights, and the tinny sound emanating from the integrated prison stereo, Rick had time to think and ponder.

About life.

Where he had been, where he was now, where he was heading.

The only thing, keeping his sanity, was his girlfriend outside. He looked forward to her visits, her tender smile, the hope reflected in her eyes.

If he could kiss her hand, he would, with passionate fervour. But the glass partition prevented that, and they could only smear their sweaty palms against the toughened glass.

As he was working out, a shadow passed before him and he scowled at the willowy figure standing there.

Cal.

The little snitch that got him inside in the first place.

If he hadn't blundered along, whilst hacking into the computer database, they wouldn't have been in this mess in the first place.

To make matters worse, Cal's sister, just happened to be his girlfriend. Not that it mattered much, they never got along anyway.

Rick would happily pulverise Cal's face into a pulp, but for the fact that they were constantly surrounded by guards 24/7.

Besides, he didn't want GBH added to his long list of felonies either. He desperately wanted to get out as soon as possible and start afresh.

"Hey boss," rasped Cal, his asthma rattling his chest and throat, "I heard about Clara."

Rick ignored him, concentrating on his weights.

"She's run away with the guy next door." he taunted, leaning against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips, "guess she couldn't wait any longer."

Inside, Rick was boiling, knowing it was a matter of time. He realised Cal was baiting him, expecting him to lash out. But for now, he wanted to get as far away from this weedy little nerd, before his temper got the better of him.

Rick skipped his customary shower. Actually, he'd barely broken sweat, before Cal arrived, and made his way back to his cell.

Luckily for him, he was the only occupant, Cal had been sequestered elsewhere on the block. But he wasn't alone by any chance. Still following along, sneaky little taunts whispered into his ear, was Cal, determined to get the better of him.

Rick flopped onto the hard bed and took out a book, pretending to be engrossed in it. But still, Cal continued to taunt him mercilessly. He walked up to the bunk and snatched the book out of Rick's hands.

That was it.

Rick leapt up from the bunk and swatted the book away. It clattered against the wall before flopping face downwards onto the floor, pages crinkled and bent awkwardly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, facing up to Cal, a vein pulsating in his forehead.

"Ohhh, a baby book," crooned Cal, grinning maliciously, "I didn't think you could read."

It was a book given to him by Clara, his girlfriend. She'd suggested to him that he should educate himself. And it was a firm favorite. A book of children's classics that he read each and every night before lights out.

He wasn't ashamed at his lack of literary skills. It was the fact that he'd treasured this book more than anything he'd had in this world, and that weedy little creep was tormenting him and pushing his boundaries.

Yes, Cal was a highly educated man, with computer skills and a degree in business studies. But that didn't mean he should look down on those less fortunate than himself.

And Rick, with his quick temper, was an easy target.

Cal reached down to pick up the book, but Rick's reflexes were quicker.

Grabbing hold of Cal's hand, he began to squeeze. Cal howled, hopping up and down in pain, as Rick squeezed harder.

"Leave it there!" he growled.

He could feel the bones snapping and Cal's knuckles popping as this slightly built man shrieked, gasping hard, tears pouring down his face.

It gave Rick a great sense of satisfaction, feeling those bones cracking beneath his powerful hands. Those hours in the gym had paid off eventually.

It didn't matter now. His record for good behaviour had been broken. What mattered was that he'd have a few weeks of peace and quiet, without Cal bugging him at every opportunity.

And that was satisfaction enough.

Chapter Ten - Deano's Two Distractions

2008-01-19T18:38:00.000Z

Squinting at the computer screen, Deano grimaced.
The cam shaft he'd ordered, was STILL out of stock.

Business at the garage had ground to a halt, all thanks to his 'reliable' supplier. And now this had to happen too.

He groaned, wiping a grubby hand across his face.

"Damn!" he swore, hoisting himself out of his seat and reaching down to the refrigerator for a can of beer.

Peering out of the window, he grimaced, as he chugged down the last dregs.
"Damned lousy weather," he swore, peering out of the trailer window.

It didn't appear to be stormy, the skies were still fairly clear, but there was a definite dampness in the air and he didn't want anything to happen to 'Old Moo.

Old Moo was his pick up truck. All black with shiny new customised chrome.
She was his 'babe magnet' and his pride and joy.

In his spare time, he spent hours working on her, tweaking here, waxing there.
Luckily he constructed a car port to park her under. But he still had to cover her over, just to make sure she didn't get any rust spots.

Man, she was a beauty.

He grinned, as he trotted down the steps of his trailer and walked towards the make shift carport. He had to make sure the tarp was fixed down properly, as the weather man reported blustery showers for the rest of the day.

"Oh yeah," he murmured, as he slid a hand across the shiny waxed surface, "you're quite the babe magnet aren't you?"

His smile faded, when he detected the unmistakable scent of leaking oil.

Dropping onto his knees, he peered at the undercarriage of his pick up and saw the pool of oil on the concrete.

"Dammit," he cursed, rolling up his sleeves.

Luckily for Deano, he always carried a small tool box in the back of the pick-up.

Grabbing an adjustable wrench and a powerful torch, he slid underneath 'Moo' and poked around to see where the leak was.

With his trailer seated at the very edge of the park, there was usually a lot of traffic. People coming and going all the time.
So it was no surprise when a nice pair of pins stopped right in front of him.

"Hiya stud," came a soft sultry voice.

Deano grinned, his eyes never left those perfectly formed ankles.

"Hey sweetheart," he replied gruffly, "what're you doing down this neck of the woods?"

He couldn't see her face, but he correctly assumed she was smiling.
Satisfied he'd fixed that annoying leak, he pulled himself out from beneath 'Old Moo', grinning broadly.

This 'Sweetheart' in question, was none other than a wannabe model called Charity Benson.
Tall and leggy, with a neat figure, a cascade of corkscrew curls and the most delicious, kissable lips Deano had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Charity watched as he wiped his hands on a dirty rag.
Gosh, he was sooo handsome.

She shot him her killer smile.

"Oh, just passing through really," she said, pretending to inspect her fingernails, "and you? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Nah," came the reply, "it's pretty quiet at the garage, so I thought I'd bring work home with me."

He patted the tarpaulin lovingly, caressing it gently with his fingertips.

He looked back at her and drew out his famous lop-sided grin.

"Hey," he crooned huskily, "wanna come in for a coffee?"

"Sure," came the reply.

Charity sashayed past Deano, earning herself a slap on her bottom, and a wolf whistle at the same time.

Man, she was a gorgeous piece of ass, and quite the opposite of his on/off girlfriend, Brooke.

Brooke was sweet in her own way, but she had too many hang-ups. Charity in the meantime, was a lot more fun to be with.

With no ties, she could come and go as she pleased, had a dirty sense of humour and just didn't care what the world thought of her.

They both knew that coffee wasn't on the agenda, as Deano moved in for the 'kill'.
Leaning forward, he caressed her arm, looking deep into her grey/blue eyes.

It was a game they we both familiar with, and they played their parts to perfection.

Chapter Nine - Troubled Times

2007-12-18T08:29:00.000Z

An ear-piercing shriek rang through the house, followed by an even higher, more childlike voice frantically protesting.

"Muuuuummmm!!!!"

Sammi, stretched out on the lawn, could only smirk to herself.

Letting out that wormrat was a master stroke, she mused to herself. It was payback indeed.
She never did like that landlady at all, and found the old woman stuck-up and snobby.

The front door burst open and a white-faced woman charged down the steps, her face contorted with rage.

Following in hot pursuit, clutching something furry in his hands, was a red-haired little boy, his face almost as red as his hair.

"But, Mrs C," he protested anxiously, "she's not that bad at all! Really!"

His comments fell on deaf ears as the old woman ran blindly towards the old willow tree in the forecourt.

She stopped to catch her breath, glaring nastily towards the approaching little boy.

"Keep .... that..... away..... from.....me," she rasped, clutching her heart.

"But.... but....," Ewan's eyes began to fill with tears, "Rosie is safe, honest."

Finally, Mrs Cartwright gained her breath and her posture.

Towering over him, she glared down at the trembling little boy in front of her.

"I told your mother," she said, folding her arms and frowning, "no pets are allowed."

"But...but..... Rosie's no trouble at all."

Sammi lay listening to the conversation, grinning to herself.
It was just what that old biddy deserved. Especially the way she spoke to everyone. Always complaining about the noise, even when they tiptoed around the poky little apartment. And picking on poor shy little Ewan.

Sammi listened carefully hoping this time that her little brother would have the courage to stand up to this horrid, mean old woman.

Sadly, that wasn't to be.
Sitting up stiffly, she could see that she was getting the better of her kid brother after all.

Ewan drooped his head shamefully, tears rolled down his cheeks. Mrs Cartwright folded her arms, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

That grin vanished when she witnessed Ewan gently kissing the squirming wormrat between his short stubby fingers.

"Eugh!" she exclaimed, "that's disgusting."

Ewan glanced up at Mrs C, hot, angry tears flowed down his cheeks.

"No it's not!!" he squeaked.

Suddenly, without warning, a thin bony hand flashed across his cheek, sending Ewan reeling.
He let go of the wormrat which squealed with fright vanishing off into the bushes.

"That's for answering me back, you nasty little boy," Mrs C hissed.

Sammi leapt up and charged across to the old woman, her blood seething with rage.

"DON'T YOU DARE HIT MY BROTHER!!!" she screamed with fury.

Just then, Tess, their mother, appeared around the corner, her shoulders sagging from yet another failed job interview.

She could only look on in horror as she saw the scene before her.
Her son, scrabbling around the dirt and debris, her daughter having a stand up fight with their landlady.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON??" she bellowed, rushing to pry Sammi from the old woman.

Sammi was sobbing, her face bright red.

"She slapped Ewan!" Sammi protested.

Tess turned to Mrs C.

"Is this true?" she breathed, her fists clenching.

Mrs Cartwright pulled herself up, regaining her stiff composure and mechanically dusting her hands. Indeed, she was a formidable woman.

She looked haughtily down her nose at Tess, her thin lips twisted into a wry smile.

"He was cheeky to me," she replied, "and your daughter attacked me."

Sammi stepped forward to launch herself again, but Tess pinned her arms to her sides in a tight bear hug.

"I was protecting my brother," Sammi spat, pure hatred in her eyes.

"Sammi!" Tess murmured in her daughter's ear, "you're not making this any easier for us all. Cool it will you."

Sammi struggled against her mother's strength.

"Not until SHE apologises."

Mrs Cartwright stiffened, a cruel sneer played upon her thin, haggard face.

"I'm afraid this isn't working out for all of us" she intoned, "I'm afraid you'll all have to leave."

"WHAT????"

Tess loosened her grip on her daughter as the force of the old woman's statement hit her fully.

"You can't do that!!" she exclaimed breathlessly, "we have nowhere else to live."

The old woman sniffed.

"That's your problem, not mine," she replied, turning away, "besides, you'll find that I CAN do that. You broke several house rules. Up until now, I have been extremely lenient. Besides, I run a tight ship around here and you're kind are not welcome. I'll expect you all to vacate the premises as soon as possible."

The front door clicked shut.

Both mother and daughter looked at each other in stunned silence. The only other sound was that of Ewan, mewling softly.....

"Rosie! Rosie!"

Tess turned to her daughter, and Sammi's shoulders stiffened. She knew what was coming.

"What the hell just happened here?" her mother demanded, "and why aren't the two of you at school?"

Sammi felt herself tensing up. All her rage was boiling into a tight nucleus.

"For your information!" she screamed, "it was a study day. And lucky for me it was. Ewan was sent home sick."

"Don't you speak to me like that young lady!" Tess screamed back, "you know where I was. I was trying to find a job so that I can put food on the table."

By now, Ewan had given up his fruitless search for Rosie and was watching with growing distress over this fight between his mum and big sister.

Fresh tears coursed down his face as he witnessed the two of them tearing into each other.

Chapter Eight - New Surroundings

2007-12-15T00:08:00.000Z

The sun shone brightly through the windows, as Alec arose.
Even though it was Sunday, he still got up early to get things organised.

At first, he was confused with the unfamiliar surroundings. But soon acclimatised himself to his new home.

Glancing out of the window, his breath caught in his throat.

The view was spectacular indeed, even with the low lying mist that seemed to envelop the lower grounds.

He still couldn't believe that he'd actually managed to acquire this farmhouse.
Expecting to be up all night, Alex had been pleasantly surprised at how quickly he'd fallen asleep.

Mind you, that was simply because he'd spent a good majority of the day, busying himself with unpacking everything he'd brought along with him.

Yawning widely, Alec got dressed and wandered into the bathroom.

Grimacing, he glanced in the mirror at his reflection.
No matter how he tried, his hair always seemed to stick up all over the place.

Hastily brushing his fingers through his thick, dry hair, he heard a whistling sound from outside.

Peering out of the window, he saw a young girl carrying a heavy sack on her shoulders, busying herself with delivering newspapers.

He hadn't realised that this area was part of the 'rounds', due to it's remoteness, but he smiled to himself.

At least someone else was up, just as early as himself.

Fixing himself a cup of coffee and a croissant (you just can't take the 'city' out of the boy), he settled down in front of the computer to check on his progress.

So far, he'd only managed to acquire properties to rent out.
There was one other property in this vicinity.
A small cottage, just over the hill.

That he'd successfully rented out to a colleague of his.

Brooke Isaac.

Although they worked together, theirs was a purely platonic relationship.
Besides, she was already in a relationship with another man.
Alec had well and truly missed the boat with this woman, and he knew it.

Buying and selling properties had always been his speciality and he managed to raise a substantial amount of money from it all.

But his latest project, was to be the biggest headache of all.

Since buying the farmhouse, he'd been buying up land by the mass, in the surrounding countryside.

His plans were to build up a small housing estate from the surrounding wastelands.

Ambitious?

Yes.

Especially when one plot of land totally eluded him.
And already, squatters had begun to park their trailers there.

Satisfied that his accounts were up to date, and all deliveries and deadlines had been met, Alex settled down to a quiet bit of reading, when the door bell rang.

Wondering who would be up and about at this hour, he cautiously answered the door.....

.... to a pretty young lady with long brown hair and huge brown eyes.

"Hello Alex," she said, coolly, "I see you've managed to settle in okay then."

"Hi Brooke," he replied, smiling.

But she never returned the smile at all. She was here on serious business.

"As you're currently unavailable by telephone," she remarked sarcastically, "I thought I'd come by in person."

Alec blushed, as he always did in her presence.
There was something about her that did that to him.

"I was taking a shower this morning," she pressed on, meeting his stare with one of her own, "when there was a bang, followed by gushing water. Can you take a look at it?"

"Oh."

Alec was startled momentarily.

"I'll..... I'll.... get one of my contractors to take a look at it."

"Taking a look at it, won't fix it you know!" she replied harshly, her hands on her hips, "I've got my dad living with me, and he's not the best man to get along with."

"Oh, I'm sorry,"

"Sorry doesn't cut it either. He'll not let this rest, along with a few other things that are going on in my life at present. So I suggest you get it fixed now!"

"Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?" Alec suggested.

He could see that Brooke was getting severely stressed out and thought that she needed something to calm her down.

"I'd rather not, thank you," she replied tersely.

"It'll take a few minutes to contact Nigel," he replied, hitting the hot key on his cell phone, "besides, it's fresh."

Brooke eyed him skeptically.

Out of the office, he was a totally different man.
But that still didn't make him any more approachable or appealing.

In fact.

Apart from his unruly hair, there's was nothing remotely interesting about Alec Thompson that would appeal to Brooke at all.

He dressed in dull clothing and he was always over polite.

Now Deano......

...... that was another matter.

Chapter Seven

2007-10-03T00:07:00.001+01:00

A Gypsy's Prophecy

Jerome had always been regarded as an 'odd' fellow.
Even his family thought he was slightly weird, taking great care in scrutinizing every minute little detail.

As a child, he was thoughtful and extremely shy.
He'd sit for hours, just watching a bee, buzzing lazily along on it's merry way.

Even after his older brothers were drafted into the army, Jerry, as he preferred to be called, would be found, pinning dead butterflies to boards, chatting on line to folks and generally keeping himself to himself.

Even at college, a time of great upheaval and change, he still maintained his quiet, dignified air about him.

So it was no surprise, when he graduated, that he'd already picked out a prime area of land, here in CloverDale.

It was situated on a one way street, overlooking the lake and stark mountains, nestled in a dell.

Once his humble home had been built (no thanks to a few 'donations' from the family funds), Jerry decided to settle down.

He still had a passion of butterflies, however. And he would be seen, throughout the summer and early autumn, trying to catch a few of them, unsuccessfully.

It was during one long, hot spell, that much to his chagrin, he spotted a gypsy woman approaching.

It would have deemed rude of him not to greet her, but his upbringing taught him to be polite at all times.

Groaning loudly, he dragged his heels through the house, just to say hello.
Otherwise she could have been there all day, just hanging around his front garden.

Smiling widely, her crooked teeth showing, the gypsy woman gazed at Jerry intently.
It made Jerry feel particularly uncomfortable and he wished he'd chased her away.

But coming from a family steeped in superstitious beliefs, he thought it wise to hear what she had to say.

"I see you have a kind face," she whispered, her voice sounded like dry autumn leaves.

He groaned inwardly.

Yep, that old familiar first line.
It never failed.

He smiled.

She held out her hand, it was thin and bony, the skin almost transparent.

"Cross my palm with silver," she continued, "and I shall tell you your future."

Reluctantly, Jerry fished in his pockets and came up with a handful of coins.

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically, "that's all I have until I get myself a job."

She eyed him warily, feeling the weight of the coins in her hand.
Then she nodded, casting her eyes around at the small, yet humble house he'd built, it's red tin roof rapidly drying from the morning dew.

"Very well," she said heavily, "I shall make allowances only this once."

With that, she pulled a large glass orb from the carpet bag she'd been carrying, and polished it vigorously.

Peering intently into the crystal ball, she looked up at Jerry, her eyes wide with interest.
Then she smiled again. This time a lot more widely. Those crooked teeth making Jerry's stomach churn violently.

"Hmm, that interesting."

By now, all Jerry wanted to do, was to get rid of her.

But being the polite gentleman that he was, he couldn't bring himself to do it, fearing the dreadful curses the gypsy woman might cast upon him and his house.

"I see a tall dark-haired woman, coming into your life."

He groaned inwardly.
The typical 'you will meet and fall in love' scenario.

She looked back into the ball, her face darkened slightly.

"She comes from afar," she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, "but beware. She's a mystery to you and if you're not careful, she'll break your heart."

It took all of Jerry's restraint not to roll his eyes at her.

By now, the sun had crossed the sky and was passing behind the clouds.
A slight breeze sprang up and caused Jerry to yawn involuntarily.

"I'm so sorry," he said, apologising vehemently, "I didn't mean to appear rude.... it's just the fret from the lake. I kinda does that to me."

She nodded, understanding.

"I suppose I did overstay my welcome a little bit," she admitted, "I guess I'd better be on my way."

She cast a knowing look around her at the house and surrounding area.

"Hmm," she said, partly to herself, "who would have guessed that this was here?"

She turned back to Jerry, her light watery eyes twinkling.

"Maybe it was destiny that caused me to wander down this street?" she grinned, slipping her crystal ball back into her bag, "Or was it sheer curiosity?"

She shrugged her thin shoulders.

"Who knows?"

She winked mischievously, before waving goodbye and vanishing back down the same way she's arrived.

Jerry watched as the top of her head vanished over the ridge of the hill.
His stomach grumbled loudly and he glanced at his watch.

"Goodness!" he thought, "look at the time! No wonder I'm hungry!"

He sauntered into the kitchen, raiding the cupboards for something quick and easy.
Not feeling brave enough to try his hand at the oven, and it being too hot a day to cook a meal, he opted for a lunch meat sandwich.

But as he spread the mustard thinly over the slice of meat, he began to think about the gypsy woman's words.

A dark-haired woman.

A dark-haired woman.

Chapter Six - Father Thomas' New Assignment

2007-09-23T06:47:00.000+01:00

Father Thomas sat outside the Bishop's office, shuffling his feet nervously.
It felt like school again.

Waiting for the headmaster to administer punishment.

But surely His Grace wouldn't be THAT cruel to him?

The prospects of going back into the city, fill Father Thomas with dread and fear.

While he waited, he dreamed back to the very first night he spent at the mission.
It was well past midnight and everybody had retired to bed.

Unfortunately, because of the time difference, Father Thomas couldn't sleep.

So he found himself sitting on the beach, gazing out in awe at the magnificent ocean before him.

The way the waves crashed against the sand bank and rocks. The white froth illuminating against the moonlight. It was startlingly beautiful.

It was here that Father Thomas had discovered his own inner peace.
And it was here that ritually, every night, for a whole year, once he'd finished administering to his flock, he'd sit cross-legged, quietly contemplating.

Thankful for the rich beauty and simplicity that surrounded him.

The door creaked open, breaking Thomas out of his reverie. Bishop Nathan Bartholomew stepped out, his sharp grey eyes travelling critically over this young man, seated before him.
Thomas looked up at him expectantly.

But all he received, was a curt nod of the head.
Thomas felt his heart sink.

"Would you like to come into my office?" asked Nathan, stepping to one side to let Thomas pass.

The door clicked shut and Nathan turned to face Thomas.

"I'll come straight to the point," he said, hardly giving Thomas the time to sit down, "you've been languishing in that tropical paradise for far too long, hiding behind your cassock. It's about time you came back to earth with a heavy bump."

All Thomas could do was to nod his head in agreement.

"Yes, Your Grace," he said humbly.

This was it.
The moment he'd been dreading all through the long journey home.

"Considering your past history," Nathan continued, "I have come to the conclusion that you're not suitable for city work after all."

Thomas' head snapped up.
Was he hearing things correctly?
Was His Grace giving him a reprieve after all?

"However, I feel that you should be given an assignment that would truly test your mettle and faith once and for all."

Nathan smiled warmly, and patted Thomas on the shoulder.

"Don't look so worried," he assured him, "I have good faith in you."

Thomas' mind was in a whirl.
What could His Grace possibly have up his sleeve for him?

Nathan sighed, picking up a sheaf of papers.
Adjusting his spectacles, he read quickly through the first sheet and looked up at Thomas, who was waiting expectantly.

"Due to the rising crime rate in the city," he said, handing the papers to Thomas, "it has been agreed that something has got to be done about the youth of today."

He paused, taking off his spectacles and wiping them with a cloth.

"We have decided to found a boarding school for wayward teenage boys."

Thomas wondered how and why that had something to do with him, but he kept his mouth shut and continued to listen.

"We scoured far and wide for the perfect location," Nathan continued, "however, the farmhouse we deemed suitable, had already been taken. So we had to use another location."

He handed Thomas the papers.

"Here's the address, you're expected there as soon as possible."

Thomas' jaw dropped open.

His assignment was a boarding school for teenage boys?

That was truly unexpected.
It was literally a world away from the mission he'd been working at not 48 hours ago.

And he wondered what trials and tribulations lay ahead for him.

Chapter Five - Father Comes to Stay

2007-09-18T12:44:00.000+01:00

The sun shone brightly, bringing out the vibrant colours in the garden.
Brooke stood up, stretching her strained back and looked proudly upon all her hard work.

She felt the sun, prickling on the back of her neck and was thankful that she'd remembered to thicken on the sun cream.

"There," she thought, wiping the soil from her hands, "that looks a lot better."

The garden was her pride and joy, and everybody who passed by, made comments of approval at Brooke's green thumb.

The only one she really needed to please....

.... was her elderly father.

She looked at her watch and her heart sank.
He'd be here, any time soon.

Brooke kicked off the gardening shoes at the kitchen doorway and sprinted indoors to freshen herself up.

She changed from her usual 'slobs' as she called them, into a pretty outfit, brushing her hair out.

She never put make up on.
It was lost on her father, who disapproved of everything Brooke did.

From as far back as she could remember, he would ritually direct comments of disapproval at her.

"What are you wearing THAT for? It makes you look too fat!"

"You're putting far too much lipstick on. That colour looks as though you've got a gash instead of a mouth."

More recently, it turned into ....

"I can't see how you're ever going to get married if you work all those hours."

"You're working yourself too hard. look how skinny you've become, you'll waste away to nothing if you're not careful."

And his particular favourite....

"I don't know what you see in that Deano Gray, he's trouble I tell you. And what sort of name is Deano, for goodness sake? Why don't you go out with someone nice.... like that Alec Thompson. He's rich, has his own house and is single."

It always ended up with Frank pointing out the obvious.

But Brooke regarded Alec as 'boring' and 'dull as dishwater.'

Brooke fussed around the house, checking to see if everything was just right.

She grimaced at the old, worn chair that had arrived last week, but she knew that it was going to be a permanent fixture from now on.

After his wife's death, three years ago, Frank had struggled to cope on his own.
Sadly, one cold Winter's day, he fell down the stairs and broke his hip.

The house that Brooke lived in, was more than substantial. So, reluctantly, she agreed to let her father move in.

What used to be her 'crafts room', was now converted into a bedroom. Some of her father's treasures and furniture, had been brought in. The rest was either donated to charities, thrown out or the most valuable items sold.

The profits made from the sale of the family home, boosted up his bank account substantially, but still, he insisted on wearing the same, shabby clothing day in day out.

Brooke peered out of the window, just in time to see the taxi pull up.
Even before he opened the door, she heard his loud protestations and complaints.

Brooke groaned inwardly.

Her father was in a bad mood and she knew he'd be like that all day.

What was she letting herself in for?

Meanwhile, Frank sat complaining about the costly taxi fare.

He was dreading this.

He knew that Brooke didn't want him there at all.
She made that quite clear, the moment she picked up her bags and moved out of the family home, all those years ago.

But circumstances, and a fractured hip, soon put paid to his own freedom.

Still, he couldn't help marvelling at the beautiful countryside, as the taxi zipped past.

He remembered how this was all farmland, as far as the eye could see.
It was a shame that this land had now given itself up for developers.

His own daughter had been one of the first people to snap up the first houses built, and he was prepared to hate it with a passion.

But he was taken by surprise, when he saw the pretty little garden at the front of the property.
It wasn't quite as wild as Frannie's, his late wife's garden, but it was stunning all the same.

At least Brooke had inherited something from them anyway.

If only she'd get her head out of the clouds and see for herself, what her future could be like.

She didn't go to University just to become a waitress.

That business degree was gathering dust, as she plodded on.

And that no good Deano guy.

He had Brooke wrapped around his little finger, and Brooke was so blinded that she couldn't see it at all.

Brooke stepped out of the front door to greet him, her jet black hair long and loose.
For a moment there, he was taken back a few years.

She looked just like her mother, standing there in the bright sunlight.

But he STILL couldn't resist a typical moan and groan.

"Why haven't you fenced this all in?" he complained, crossing his arms, "you know how strays are. They'll come in here, dig it all up, urinate all over and generally ruin everything."

Brooke shook her head.

Nothing had ever changed.

Chapter Four - Reminiscing

2007-09-16T11:49:00.000+01:00

Father Thomas grasped his seat as the car leapt over pot holes and ruts in the road.

"Whoa there! Steady on!" he shouted, his head nearly hitting the roof of the car, "are you trying to kill us both? What were you in a past life, a stunt driver?"

Father Simon slowed down, grinning widely.

"Close enough," he replied, "a rally driver."

"It figures."

Thomas turned to Simon.

"I never asked how you found God."

"That was easy." came the reply, "I was involved in a headlong collision."

Thomas gasped.

"Oh no no, not on the track. Oh no! It was a gang of joyriders, out for kicks."

He shook his head sorrowfully.

"They were barely of legal age, yet they managed to steal a car and go for a drive."

Thomas scrutinising his face. The scars were there, although they'd faded to a silver colour now.

"It was touch and go for a while," Simon continued, "I lost a lot of blood, and my legs had been shattered."

"Shocking!"

Simon laughed then, causing Thomas to look at him quizzically.

"I guess you're wondering how I can find something so amusing from such a tragedy."

"I am actually."

"It's my sense of humour. I never lost that at all. And also the fact that I always have trouble when passing through security gates."

Thomas, not quite understanding, smiled nonetheless.
Simon chuckled.

"I've got metal pins in my legs," he explained, "for a while, I couldn't walk, but my determination pulled through. It's really hilarious going through those alarmed security gates though. I often crack a few jokes with the security staff whenever the alarms go off! It's quite funny, really."

Thomas marvelled at Simon's bravery and good humour.
How he wished he'd been like that, facing adversity with a broad grin instead of running and hiding.

The vegetation cleared and the airport came into view.
It was a stark contrast to the relatively untouched villages he'd visited.

The concrete and steel building stuck out like a sore thumb, hideous in it's structure, but suitable nonetheless in it's practicality.

A couple of planes screamed overhead and the rhythmic thwock thwock of a helicopter buzzed past.

Apart from that, it was fairly quiet.

Simon pulled into the car park and they both got out.
As Simon took out the suitcase, Thomas glanced around.

A slight breeze rustled at the palm trees making a hissing noise.

Boy, he was really going to miss this place.

They stood at the front entrance, slightly uncomfortable in each other's presence.

"Take care of little Muhana," Thomas said, eventually, "she may look cute, but boy, is she a handful. She has a habit of playing amongst the cacti if you don't watch her."

He sighed wistfully.

"She takes after her father....speaking of which, that young boy needs a little guidance. He's got a roving eye, even though he's married. He just needs to be steered in the right direction."

"Don't worry Father Thomas," soothed Simon, "they're all going to be alright. You'll see."

Thomas nodded, unsure, a worried look on his face.

"Don't worry," he assured him, "as soon as Jumbahan learns how to read and write, I'll make sure she sends you a goodwill letter."

Thomas' eyes opened wide.

"How did.....?"

"She told me herself."

Thomas chuckled.

"She's a sneaky one," he said, "I always caught her following me on several occasions and trying her hardest to conceal herself behind one of the banana trees."

"Ah yes, she asked me how you knew she was there. She thought you were the eyes and ears of God himself and he'd whispered in your ear."

Thomas leaned in close.

"Let her believe that," he whispered, "but between you and me, it was her footprints in the sand that was the giveaway."

"Oh, you wicked man!" sniggered Simon.

Thomas glanced at his watch and patted his pocket.

"Oh well," he said, sighing deeply, "I guess it's time to go."

They embraced, albeit a little awkwardly, tears glistening in Father Thomas' eyes.

"Safe journey dear brother," said Simon, his grin faltering slightly, "may God be with you."

"May God be with you too, brother," came the heavy reply, "take care of everybody and tell them I'll be thinking of them."

"I will."

Simon stood and watched as Thomas carried his suitcase into the airport and checked in.

It was better this way.

He couldn't abide long, sad goodbyes.

Besides, he had a flock of villagers awaiting for his words of wisdom.
Easing himself into the battered old car, he pulled out of the car park and drove off, back into the dense vegetation. Back to the village.

Meanwhile, for Father Thomas, time seemed to rush along at an alarming speed.

Before he knew it, he was boarding the plane and getting settled into his seat.
He glanced out of the window, he felt low and sorrowful.

He wasn't alone on the flight, however. There was a smattering of people travelling along with him. Some, on business trips, were using this airport to transfer flights, others were simply family, coming back home from their visits.

During the long flight, they chatted to each other.
It was all basically small talk, but still, it was soothing to Father Thomas' ear, and it kept his mind occupied.

But sooner or later, that plane would be hitting tarmac and he'd be stepping out into yet another new life.

He was afraid, nervous, apprehensive.

But curious all the same.

Chapter Three - Father Thomas is Sent Home

2007-09-14T01:25:00.000+01:00

Father Thomas Maguire sat, cross-legged on the beach, deep in thought.
It was on one of those rarest of moments, when he preferred his own solitude, as he watched the waves crashing up onto the shore.

'Has it really been a whole year?' he wondered.

The year had flown by quite quickly, in his own mind's eye, as he pondered the future.

Everything had been going well.

He'd helped to establish the mission, and the villagers loved him so much.
He'd help out with the births of a few babies, and nursed many sick people back to health.

But suddenly, out of the blue, he received a letter from Bishop Nathan Bartholomew, demanding his return home, and requesting an audience.

Father Thomas was distraught at the very thoughts of returning home.

He knew what was waiting for him there.
Crime, prostitution, drugs, gang wars.

It was those very things that almost drove him to despair. His faith had been well and truly tested.

But here, he found peace and solitude among these people.
People who'd accepted him into their world without question.
Who'd hung onto every word he said, their faces alight with wonder at his preachings.

Sadly, for Father Thomas, he'd had no choice in the matter.
Already a replacement had been sent.

Father Simon wandered down to the beach, in search of Father Thomas and saw him sitting, in a world of his own.

"You know," he said softly, "you can dream your whole life away here."

Thomas closed his eyes, trying to ignore Simon, desperate to commit these images into his own memories.

"I hate to rush you," Simon continued, but your flight leaves pretty soon and you still haven't packed.

Thomas stood up and brushed away the sand from his cassock.
For once in his life, he felt angry.

He was being taken away from all of this.
This beautiful paradise.

And for what?
What possible task did the Bishop have for him this time?

Was he being stationed in the big city again?

That thought filled him with dread as he strode angrily up to Simon.

"Can't a man have a moment's peace?" he shouted, "that's all I ask. Just a single moment's peace."

Simon stood silently, a tight smile on his lips.

"As you wish," he said simply, "just let me know when you're ready."

He headed towards the mission, a simple wooden structure embedded deep amongst the vegetation.

In the meantime, Thomas went back to the beach and sat back down.
The sea breezes brushed lightly at his face as he sat awhile, still contemplating his own future.

Admittedly, he had run away from his problems, back in the city.
And he used this village as a means of escape from the harsh realities of life.

He realised that he had to return eventually.
He just wasn't too sure if he was ready or not.

Groaning heavily, he arose and headed back towards the mission.

There he saw Father Simon, playing with one of the children.
Little Muhana.

She was his first baptised child, and he recalled how she'd squirmed in his arms as he performed the solemn ceremony.
How her parents looked on happily, proud of their little daughter.

It was then that Father Thomas knew.

They were all in safe hands. His work was done. It was time to move on.

He coughed discreetly and Simon turned to look at him.

"I'm ready," he said, dragging the battered old suitcase into the boot of the car.

Simon smiled knowingly.

They both got into the car.

"I'll drive you to the airport," he offered.

"But you hardly know the way!" spluttered Thomas, "you haven't been here long enough.!"

Simon laughed heartily.

"I'm a fast learner," he quipped, dragging the decrepit old banger into first gear.

There was a long pause. Thomas turned to Simon.

"I'd like to apologise."

"Whatever for?"

"For my angry outburst just then. I really shouldn't have done that to you."

"It's fine. Besides, you've become attached to these people. I'd feel exactly the same way, if I was in your shoes."

The car jerked forward, spluttered once or twice, coughing out a plume of black carbon.

Some of those still remaining in the village, ran out to wave their goodbyes, as the car vanished through the dense vegetation.

Father Thomas' heart felt heavy at the prospects of returning home.
But it was going to be a whole new adventure.
That's for sure.

Chapter Two - A Chance Discovery

2007-09-07T02:22:00.000+01:00

Many years had passed and the beautiful farmlands had vanished. The silos had long since rusted away to nothing. The barn collapsed into a pile of rotted timber.

Yet the CloverDale Farmhouse still remained.
A monument of happier times.

It had yet gone unsold, because of the high risks of flooding.
And the estate agent was getting frantic.

Such a prime piece of property, such as this wonderful, lovingly built farmhouse, should indeed be sold to the perfect client.

But none came to pass and it stood, through wind and rain, harsh winters and bleaching sunshine.
Until it's paint began to peel and fade in places.

Even a reduction in price failed to snag any buyers.

Until one bright sunny day.

Alec Thompson, desperate for a break, decided to go for a drive.

It was by good luck and good fortune that he made a wrong turn and ended up driving through some of the most beautiful countryside unimaginable.

The scenery that opened up before him was breathtaking, to say the least.
Mountains rising up towards the sky, a deep dark lake at their base and, smack bang, right in the middle of the rolling countryside.....

... a single, solitary farmhouse.

Magnificent in it's structure.

Pulling up outside, Alec gave a gasp.

Even though the paint was faded and peeling from the harsh elements, to him, it was the most beautiful piece of property he'd ever laid his eyes on.

Taking careful note of the For Sale sign hammered haphazardly into the ground outside, Alec promised to find out more about this farmhouse.

He was even charmed by the hand carved sign that read CloverDale.

This was his dream home.

Admittedly, he realised it was a fixer-upper, but that wasn't going to stop him at all.

He hadn't reckoned on finding a house. His apartment was more than adequate.
But there was something about this place that intrigued him.

He checked his cell phone, hoping to make that call right now.

Sadly, because of the high mountains, he was well out of range for his phone network.
"Oh well," he thought, slipping his cell phone back in his pocket, "that can soon be remedied."

He wandered briefly around the farmhouse, checking out it's structure and marvelled at the many terraces that jutted out all over this three-story structure.

Hopping back into his car, he took off, heading back towards work, a slight pang of regret as he peered into his rear view mirror and saw CloverDene farmhouse disappearing from view.

He hoped and prayed that it had not yet been sold.
Judging by the faded For Sale sign, it hadn't....
...yet.

But he couldn't be certain.
He really needed to know.

Chronicles of Clover Dale - Prologue

2007-09-03T01:18:00.000+01:00

Chapter One - CloverDale Farm

George Dale and his wife Elspeth loved their farm, CloverDale.
Surrounded by mountains in every direction, and a deep, dark blue lake to the West of their farmhouse, they couldn't have wished for anything more beautiful.

Set on a slight incline, they had a bird's eye view of everything around them, the perfectly ploughed fields and the thick, lush woodlands that spread wildly around the rising hills.

Their farm was aptly named, because of the field of brightly coloured clover that Elspeth saw, whenever she opened her bedroom window every morning.

It was a prosperous farm, that had been in the family for generations, providing organic supplements to the neighbouring towns.
Root vegetables and grains, were George's speciality.

He knew and understood the agrarian rules of farming. Always rotate your crops, make sure at least one field remains fallow, to allow nutrients to flourish in the rich soil.

Dutifully, he did that, year in year out.

Theirs was a truly magnificent farmhouse.
Crops were in such an abundance, that George was forced to build more silos to keep up with demand.

It was a happy place, where everyday, George would plough the fields and Elspeth would bake.
The only sadness was the fact that Elspeth couldn't bear children.

This didn't become a problem until after the great disaster.

As explained earlier, George stuck rigidly to the rules of agriculture, rotating his crops every year.

What he didn't prepare for, was a very bad summer.
Heavy rain cascaded down the mountains, causing the lake to flood, waterlogging all of George's ploughed fields.

It lasted for days, and by the time it was over, many crops were ruined, beyond repair.
And just when he thought it was all over, a terrible blight wiped out the rest of his crops.

No matter how he tried from then on, he couldn't regain his former glory, struggling to make ends meet.

It didn't help matters when Elspeth was diagnosed with the early stages of dementia.
He often found her, wandering around the barn, clad only in a thin nightie.
She needed round the clock care and that cost money.
In the end, he was forced to sell all of his lands, including the farmhouse, to cater for her needs.

The farmhouse was left alone, as it's structure was pretty sound.
But the rest of the land was snapped up by developers.

And so, CloverDale village was born.

Introduction

2007-09-02T07:26:00.000+01:00

Hi everyone, this is a first for me actually, cutting my teeth on a blog, so many apologies for any gaffes and errors along the way.

As some folks will already know, I am the site manager of a Sims Forum called CosyCornerSims2 (blatant plug) and we have a story section there, where our site members can upload their own particular brands of stories.

I was also responsible for the story Raven, which was removed from the public, pending a rewrite.
But don't worry folks, she's keen to get her story told to you all.

But for now, I'll be giving you (possibly, depending on work schedules etc.) a whole new story to read.

It's very loosely (and I mean, VERY loosely based) on the Royal Kingdom Challenge.
But without the restrictions of social class.

I hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I'll enjoy writing it.

Sonia