Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 I missed the call, of course, despite disentangling myself from the bed
clothes and getting downstairs in record time.  When I did finally find my
phone, though, I saw a missed call from May, and a new voice mail.  Which
latter I ignored in favour of simply phoning her back ...  and got her
voice mail.  Which was annoying, given that I knew she'd called only
minutes before, but somehow not a surprise.  I picked up the message
instead, listening to it as Kath came down the stairs, too, wearing nothing
but a T-shirt.

   "Everything OK?" she said, carefully, as I put the phone down.  "Only
you came down the stairs at a rate of knots, looked quite surprised when I
got down, too, and now you look a bit confused.  So what's up?  Or should I
just bugger off and mind my own business?"

   "Oh ...  no ...  its OK ...  just that the call I missed was from my
friend May's phone ...  she's being helping out with liaison while I'm up
here ...  but the message was from Debbie - who I talked about earlier?  -
with ...  well, bad news ...  her partner's died, quite suddenly, she's
back in London, thought I ought to know.  But now May's not answering the
phone.  Hang on, I'll try Debbie's mobile directly."

   She sat and waited while I made a succession of calls - Debbie's mobile,
then May's, then May's home again - without getting an answer.  Eventually,
I sort of slumped in front of the remains of the fire - I was still naked
and it wasn't warm - where she put a rug around my shoulders and went to
make some tea.  I was still sitting, thinking, when she handed me a mug and
sat down beside me.

   "So ...  is that you back to London tomorrow, then?  I think if I had
someone like you around - who cared for me the way you obviously do about
her - I'd ...  well, I'd quite like them around in a situation like this."

   "Well ...  yes ...  but I do have to get stuff sorted out here ... 
though God knows that could wait ...  but the message she left was simply
to say she was OK, would be staying with May - who's a nice woman - for a
few days and would speak to me when I got back.  So I don't know.  Part of
the problem is precisely the way I do feel about her ...  of course I want
to be there, but at the same time there are things we have to sort out
between us and now would not be a good time for that.  I mean, she's just
lost a guy she was really close to for years ...  hardly going to be
looking for a replacement tonight, is she?"

   "No.  But the very fact that you're thinking like that - that you're
aware of the issue - makes me think that that's not going to be a problem
...  any more than all that unresolved stuff was when the guy was alive, I
suspect.  And I still think she needs a friend - as many friends as
possible - more than you need a meeting about development grants."

   Which was perfectly correct, of course, and I gave her a brief hug.  And
then I phoned Debbie's mobile, again ...  and she picked up.

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   In fact it was both an easier conversation than I'd expected and a
considerably more reassuring one.  Debbie sounded quite calm - she'd done a
lot of her crying on May earlier on, she said - and at least superficially
in control.  She said she didn't want me to come back to London immediately
- even made a joke about how she was going to sell the flat she'd lived in
with Phil and therefore needed me to sort out stuff up here urgently - but
would like to talk - not in the office - when I got back.  Eventually we
arranged that she should meet me at Euston off the train on Thursday
morning (I'd have to skip the meeting with the time share people, I
thought) and we'd take things from there.  And with further mutual
assurances that we were both OK - and that I hadn't driven the business
into a ditch since she'd been away - she rang off.  The whole call had
lasted three minutes and forty two seconds - I checked.

   Kath was looking at me when I ended the call, having tactfully moved
slightly away while I was talking, and gave me an appraising look.  "You're
not going to leave it at that till Thursday, are you?"

   "No, of course I'm bloody not ...  that's OK for this evening but I'll
give her another call tomorrow during the day ...  send her some flowers,
too, probably ..." I laughed.  "If nothing else that'll confuse her ... 
but that's OK for this evening, I think."

   "Right," she said, "'Cos its getting pretty cold in here and if we're
going to sit up all night I better do something with the fire." A pause. 
"And, Dave, if you don't want to come back to bed with me, that's OK ...  I
know you have things to think about."

   I nodded, appreciating the thought.  "No ...  actually I'd like to go
back to bed with you - maybe not to have sex, but I would quite like the
company if that's OK with you.  And I wouldn't mind another drink, at the
moment, if there's any of that wine left?"

   There wasn't, but she found a passable bottle of scotch and we took that
upstairs with us.  Where we did have sex ...  calmly, gently and ... 
comfortingly.  Kath was a really, really nice person, I thought as I fell
into a deep, deep sleep.

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   Next morning, we got up and got our various acts together as though we'd
known each other for years - strange how it sometimes works like that -
sharing a brief hug on the doorstep.  Kath was going to work, of course,
while I had a couple of trains to catch to get to my meeting - with a good
connection, for a change.  As we went our separate ways, I mentioned that
I'd be back in the valley that evening - same pub, probably - so should she
find herself there ...  She laughed and said that it was always possible.
Then laughed again - more to herself this time - and commented that even if
she wasn't, her sister undoubtedly would be ...

   Which thought kept me amused for a while but then business kicked in
again as I got the first call - from some very senior guy at PCW - I hadn't
even got on train number one, and it continued pretty much through the
forty minute journey.  It appeared that the powers that be were unhappy
with my "precipitate" approach to property purchase - apparently you needed
a committee to deal with investments on this scale - and it took a fair
amount of my dwindling stock of diplomacy to point out that it was actually
our money (even if most of it had recently been theirs) - and, thus, it
wasn't something I needed prior approval for - without making the situation
ten times worse.  As it was, I simply got hassled by various different
people within the organisation - the first guy presumably not having been
senior enough?  - and thus failed to find time to properly prepare for the
meeting I was actually going to.  It was, I felt, all somewhat unnecessary
- for a start, I knew Carla was on board and that everyone I had had to
talk to would have seen the business plan and thus could have raised any
concerns well beforehand.  OK, I thought, so my erstwhile fried Ms White -
sod the Alison had probably been presenting my conduct in a less than
flattering light ...  which pissed me off a bit ...  but I cheered myself
up with the thought that the main problem was that I was challenging basic
assumptions of corporate behaviour ...  and that that was pretty much what
the operation had been set up to do in the first place.

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   As it happened, my lack of preparation prior to talking to the Regional
Development folks was hardly a problem, either.  They were a singularly
relaxed bunch and thus quite a relief to deal with after my corporate
"partners".  In fact, it didn't take long for me to wonder why we were
actually meeting at all: I knew what they had on offer from the e-mails
Debbie had copied me into; equally they were well aware what we were
looking for - and the fact that getting money from them was, for once, not
crucial to our relocation plans.  Maybe they were just curious to meet
people who weren't trying - in effect - to blackmail them ...  or maybe it
was just that, what with the latest recession and all, they just didn't
have a huge amount to do.

   Eventually, I decided just to come out and ask them directly - strange
behaviour in the business world, I know, but sometimes quite effective. 
And discovered that they had a wish list of stuff they wanted from us.

   In fact, someone, somewhere on the political side of things had decided
that hi-tech industries were the way to go ...  and we were about as close
as they'd got to date.  Thus, they were keen on us sharing our "expertise",
acting as a focus for other local initiatives, skilling up the population
and all that sort of thing.  Which took me back a bit ...  we might produce
software and do most of our business over the net but it wasn't what I'd
have called particularly high tech ...  no cutting edge manufacturing
processes, no world changing advances at all ...  and not actually that
much expertise.  I mean, I was pretty good at what I did - not being a
corporate clone, mostly - and Debbie, Naz and Seffi were all talented
people, but ...

   But it was a nice office and they were nice people who served nice
coffee so we chatted away and in time ideas began to emerge ...  about how
our plans to go green in a big way with the building conversion might help
other local start ups - from local builders gaining experience of working
to these standards through to a company on the coast developing low impact
micro wind turbines and looking for test sites.  And then, about how the
completely and deliberately excessive IT capacity we'd planned could also
be used to benefit our peers ...  from free web hosting and wi-fi for the
village through to - well, it was vague, but using downtime on our servers
to run simulations and stuff for local techies - those wind turbine guys,
again - or maybe doing actual CastList type stuff with local organisations.
It was vague, but it felt good ...  certainly something - or many things -
we could work on.  I left them an enthused and happy man - grants and
rebates agreed, to be sure, but also with the feeling that I'd just met a
group of people who could really help make our "good neighbour" ambitions a
reality.

   The good mood persisted through the journey back to Bowmere, despite the
trains getting back to normal by being both late and crowded.  Once there,
I had an hour to wait for my connection back up the valley by bus - I could
have got a taxi, but, hell, it wasn't as if I had anything massively urgent
to get done.  So I went and found a florist and sent some flowers to Debbie
- assuming that she'd still be staying with May - and then sat in a cafe,
checking e-mails and things (Carla had sent me a single liner: 'You're
annoying people .  Good.  Keep it up.") and then phoned Rosie at her work,
apologising that I would be heading back to London early the next day and
that I would therefore not be able to meet our prospective temporary
landlords.  Not to worry, she said, something could be worked out.  Which I
was sure it could - though I'd be hard pressed to say why I felt so
certain, given that I was primarily dealing with people I'd only met a
couple of days ago - which thought further cheered me as I finally got on
the ancient, rattling, local bus.  And enjoyed a thoroughly pleasant - if
ridiculously slow, by London standards - journey through some of the most
beautiful scenery in England ...  in bright Autumnal sunshine.

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   So I was an exceptionally contended sort of bloke as I got off the bus
and crossed the green to the hotel.  The mood was hardly dented by coming
across the vicar, who cut me dead - the Revolted Rev indeed, I thought -
and then further improved by collecting messages from the receptionist that
included one from Debbie - saying that she had the flowers already (bloody
hell, that was quick, I thought) and loved them ...  and another from May,
letting me know that Debbie herself seemed OK and was beginning to get some
of the practical stuff organised.  Ah, well - we were meeting the next day,
I pointed out to myself, we'd see how it goes then.

   I had a quick shower and ditched the trainers I'd been wearing for some
walking boots, also grabbed the essentials for a quick walk in the hills -
compass, map, waterproofs, that sort of thing - and then wandered into the
village co-op to pick up some food for the afternoon.  Inevitably, it was
Rosie holding the fort behind the counter.

   "God, someone looks happy," she said without preamble, "So I take it the
meeting went well?" I agreed that it had, that a number of interesting new
possibilities had emerged.  She looked pleased, told me that she'd talked
to the timeshare people earlier and that they were available early evening
if I felt like talking to them then.  Which of course I did, and agreed
that she should invite them over to the hotel bar - where else, really - at
about five ...  and if possible be there herself: There were things I
wanted to talk to her about, I said, which would be a bit difficult to do
when she was working.  And, on that slightly mysterious note, I set off ...
and had an even better afternoon ...  on my own in the hills.

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   I got back to the hotel at about four, and went back to my room to sort
stuff out prior to my departure the next morning ...  and to give Debbie a
brief call.  She was still staying with May, which she said was what she
needed for the moment - she's been very loving, she told me - and was
feeling that she was getting things together, if slowly.  She also started
to tell me about the funeral arrangements - in Glasgow on the next Monday -
and her own plans for getting back to work but I cut her short.  We were
meeting the next morning, so could discuss things in person then - I'm not
keen on talking on phones, anyway,and in this case I felt I needed to
observe the body language as well as hear the words.  I knew Debbie after
all, and that meant I knew just how good she was at managing her
presentation.  So I finished the call, saying, "Look, we'll talk talk
tomorrow - quarter past twelve at Euston, OK?  So, till then have a nice
evening - well, a relatively relaxed one, anyway ..."

   "I will ...  and you too ...  and I'll look forward to seeing you then
...  I've missed you while I've been away ..."

   I agreed that I had too and with that we hung up, went our separate ways
for the moment.

   Which in my case involved making a coffee in the room - proper coffee,
not the normal sachet of instant muck - and writing an e-mail to Carla
which I'd send as soon as I could get a mobile signal tomorrow.  By which
time I was about due to meet with Rosie and her friends so I wandered down
to the bar to see whether we could do business.

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   We could, it transpired - after a brief chat in the bar we wandered over
to the timeshare complex itself, and had a look at what they had on offer.
Which, basically, was a complex of five flats - normally to let, not part
of the time share side of the business - and a sort of meeting room which
was being redecorated and so empty.  The latter was big enough for an open
plan office and could be fitted for phones and similar without problems -
they had, I learned, a very basic broadband connection which would do for a
while.  They even had storage space - an old out house planned to be
converted into something or the other when funds allowed - which would make
things a little easier for those of us moving up.  And, surprisingly, the
costs involved were highly reasonable - I even agreed to keep the cleaner
on, not because I felt we needed one -well, aside from Naz, possibly - but
just to keep up the good neighbours side of the operation.  So we shook
hands all round, exchanged contact details so that the formal paperwork
could be sorted out over the next few days ...  and went back to the bar
for a drink.

   Which was quite pleasant ...  Andy the timeshare bloke was a bit
entrepreneurial for my tastes, while my lack of similar interests clearly
confused him more than slightly, but we got on well enough ...  given that
he was providing a neat solution to a problem for me ...  and I was
proposing to give him quite a lot of money.  Such is the world, I guess. 
After a couple of pints, however, he set off back to his 'property',
presumably to make some more money, and I got a chance to talk to Rosie. 
Or vice versa, at first: She was quite clearly keen to hear details of what
had transpired at her sister's the previous evening but, sadly, there are
things I won't discuss in bars - particularly within earshot of the local
vicar, who'd recently wandered into the room - so I shifted the subject. 
Specifically, I started to talk through things we needed to get done over
the next few weeks ...  arrange for a proper architectural review of the
new building, for a start, begin to short list potential contractors, even
get the ecological survey underway.  All of which would need a local
contact at least in the period before we moved the operation North ...  and
she seemed to be the obvious person to do the job, provided she cut fit it
in with her work in the co-op and cafe.

   This did not appear to be a problem - her hours were about to be reduced
there, anyway, she told me - and so we agreed that she would take it on. 
Beginning, I suggested, by liaising with our architects - we'd be using the
guys from upstairs in Hertford Square, given their track record in green
projects - and perhaps a colleague as early as the next week.  Rosie looked
intrigued by this, possibly realising the potential for further gossip in
all these new visitors, I thought to myself, but I declined to elaborate. I
had an idea about who from our end might usefully do the initial work
locally but ...  well, it was only fair to ask her first, wasn't it?

   The business end of the conversation thus concluded (it had taken all of
five minutes), talk moved on to other things - it wasn't until the next
morning that I realised we hadn't even mentioned the subject of
remuneration.  However, the next couple of hours passed in a whirl - we
talked mainly about the hills and the stupid things that inexperienced, ill
equipped and just, well, stupid people did in them (Rosie, like all locals,
had an excellent stock of such stories) - before I again excused myself,
pleading an early train in the morning.  She looked thoughtful for a
second, muttered something about how her sister always had all the fun -
I'd thought she'd probably been better informed about events than she'd let
on earlier on - but then smiled, gave me a big hug and agreed that it was
time for her to be getting to bed, too.

   So I took our glasses back to the bar, then walked with her to the door,
where she gave me a further hug, this time provocatively pushing hard about
against me, and wrapping a leg around the back of mine.  Over her shoulder,
I could see the Vicar ...  sitting staring at us both with a scandalised
expression.

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   Next morning, I was up and checking out of the hotel by 7:30, surprised
to see the owner himself on reception ...  but then, he knew we'd soon be
in a position to put a fair amount of business his way, so ...  so I didn't
disappoint him and provisionally arranged a couple of rooms for most of the
next week, which luckily was a quiet period in the hotel business.  Then
into the taxi they'd booked for me - an ancient Mercedes but serviceable
enough for the twenty minute drive into Bowness - and subsequently enough
time for a coffee by the Lake before getting the first of the trains for
the day, changing in Preston for the London train.

   Which was a reasonably smooth journey, enlivened only by the fact that
I'd forgotten that Ms White had insisted on buying first class tickets,
thereby having to be shepherded to my 'proper' seat by the guard when they
did the first check ...  which amused my fellow travellers no end.  Still,
it was worth the embarrassment - if not the £ 200 odd extra fare - for the
free coffee and a slightly more spacious environment in which to work.  I
got Carla updated, talked to Seffi and Naz, finalised the Friday interview
schedule and generally behaved like a proper business person - albeit one
who'd forgotten the suit - all the way down to London.

   The train was early into Euston - well, they inflate the timetables to
ensure the "punctuality" figures look good - so I took my time leaving the
platform.  I was looking forward to seeing Debbie again, of course, but I
was also a bit nervous ...  a lot of the stuff I'd been doing on the train
was just displacement activity, I realised, allowing my subconscious to
avoid dwelling on the possibilities of this meeting ...  both good and bad.
Thinking that, as I slung my pack over my shoulder and walked up the ramp
to the station concourse, I felt my palms get slightly damp with nerves.

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** *

   I shouldn't have worried.

   Debbie was, of course, waiting for me right beside the platform exit,
wearing a mid thigh length green coat I didn't think I'd seen before and,
unusually, an actual skirt.  More importantly, she looked well ...  a
little drawn, perhaps, but calm and composed and ...  elegant.  She was
also busily dealing with something on her Blackberry - well, no change
there, then - so I got to peruse her, do the assessment, before she noticed
my arrival.

   And beamed at me, briefly, before running over and throwing her arms
around me, kissing me on the cheek and then continuing to hold me tight,
her head on my shoulder, without saying a word.  I hugged her back for a
while ...  something I could get used to, I felt ...  before finally
pushing her far enough back that I could look down at her.  Closer up, she
looked well, still ...  clearly she'd been crying - indeed, there were
tears in her eyes even then - but all in all it was the Debbie I remembered
from ...  oh ...  a fortnight ago ...  however much had happened in the
meantime.

   Standing directly in front of the exit wasn't exactly endearing us to
our fellow station users, though, so eventually I pulled her away and
started to walk her towards the station forecourt, asking on the way
whether she had any suggestions as to where she'd like to go.  We both new
we needed to talk, after all, and this was likely to be another
conversation probably better not to be had in a pub.  In fact, she
surprised me and suggested a nature reserve just down the road - Camley
Street - which I hadn't realised that she'd even heard of.  Its not a big
place, after all ...

   But it was quite close to hand and, for once, when we got there it
wasn't full of local kids being introduced to the concept of land not
covered in tarmac.  It was, in fact, deserted ...  so we found a bench
beside the canal and sat down facing each other, neither of us speaking for
a minute or two.  I lit a cigarette, offered one to Debbie, who, much to my
surprise took it.

   "I've fallen into bad habits, I'm afraid," she said, "but I couldn't be
bothered to roll the things recently ...  or keep together papers and
filters and things ...  it all seemed a bit complicated, really." She
paused and I wondered just what she had been going through over the past
few days.  I couldn't think of anything much to say, though, so I reached
out and stroked her shoulder.  She took a drag on the cigarette, stared at
the water and thought for a while.

   "Its good to see you again, Dave, and I've missed you ...  and there are
things I want to say to you ...  about me ...  about you ...  hell, about
us ...  but just not yet.  I'm still a bit confused, a bit shaky." She
paused, grinned ruefully.  "Actually, I'm an emotional wreck.  Which - yes,
I know - is understandable ...  but ..." She paused again, looked directly
at me for the first time since we'd sat down.  "Did you know I've been
sleeping with May while I've been staying with her?  I mean, this is not
normal behaviour for me ...  not something I've ever done before ...  but I
just needed to be close to someone.  And", she laughed, "she was certainly
into it, so ..." "Well," I said, quietly, "you're a very beautiful woman
and she's never made any secret of her preferences, so ...  well, so what's
the problem?  I mean, if you felt coerced, or manipulated, then, well ...
problem ...  but I'd be surprised if May had taken advantage of you like
that ..." she shook her head "...  so if it was something you both got
something from, wanted to do ...  want to do ...  then ...  no worries."

   She'd looked away again, said quietly, "Yes, but ...  oh, I don't know
...  I think you probably ought to know that one of the reasons I had to
keep you out of the whole situation with Phil, why I never really spoke to
you about it, despite the fact that we got so close in a lot of other ways
was ...  was because of the way we'd become so close.  I know that this
isn't making a lot of sense, but the last few months ...  I've wanted to
get to know you a lot better ...  let myself admit that I was in love with
you - as I think you are with me - but that just feeling like that made me
feel like a complete shit as far as Phil was concerned.  And now that he's
dead - and about to be buried - I still don;t find it any easier.  I just
feel like I'm betraying him ...  even in talking to you about it ...  even
if you are my friend ...  as well as my boss ...  and ...  oh god, I just
don't know" She stopped abruptly, turned away and ran a hand through her
hair.  I kept my hand on her shoulder, said very softly, "Debbie, that's OK
...  its all really human and reasonable - I know how much you cared about
Phil, know how much you wanted stuff that turned out to be impossible, and
I think I can get a glimmer of what the last few years ...  let alone the
last few days ...  must have been like for you.  But what I want, now, is
to make sure that you're OK in the future ...  that you get yourself
together in your own time and in your own way.  I just want to know what I
can do to help ...  and that means not putting any pressure on you ... 
certainly not about 'us', as you put it.  Maybe that will happen, maybe it
won't, but for the moment, I just want you to get through the shit you've
been handed ...  if you're OK, then everything else will sort itself one
way or the other." She turned back to me as I tailed off and I saw the
tears were flowing freely now.  Well, probably better out than in, I
thought, and put my arms round her in a friendly - even chaste - hug. 
Which she folded into, head on my shoulder, not saying anything for a few
minutes.  Well, if there was one thing we had, it was time.

   After a while, though, she pulled herself together - almost literally -
and stood up.

   "I think I'd like you to buy me a drink at this point," she said with a
sly grin, "and spend some time in a public place where we can have an adult
conversation about work and the damage you've managed to do in my absence
...  I think I'd find that quite therapeutic." Another pause.  "Also, in
case you haven't noticed, its started to piss down out here." She was
right. I hadn't noticed.  So we went to the pub.

   * ** *** **** ***** **** *** ** * Where we had an adult conversation
about work and where I was able to convince her - to a certain extent,
anyway - that things remained largely on course.  I asked if she wanted to
sit in on our interviews the next day but she gave me a vigorous shake of
the head in reply.

   "Actually, I want to get back into working - I need to get back into
working but I don't think I could face going back to Hertford Square just
at the moment ...  and anyway, I have to be in Glasgow on Monday for the
funeral ...  Phil's brother should be back from slaughtering the natives by
now so we can hopefully get that over with, at least."

   I remembered that the brother was in the army, currently serving in our
latest occupation of someone else's country ...  and I sympathised with her
view of funerals as necessary events but hardly ones that should be
protracted.  I thought I ought to stick to work, though, so gave her my
alternative suggestions instead.  I'd thought she might want a bit of space
for a while ...  we both knew that Naz and Seffi hung on her every word and
just wouldn't give her time to adjust if she was back in the office.

   She thought about things for a while - no more than seconds, really -
and smiled in recognition that I'd anticipated her situation.

   "Not Bremen, though," she said, "I agree its a good idea for Naz and
Seff to go and talk with the programming guys if you're committing to work
with them on a large scale but ...  well, no ...  I couldn't possibly leave
you entirely on your own, even for a week.  Anyway, they need to take some
responsibility ...  and be shown some trust."

   "As for going to the Lakes, though, and getting the architectural stuff
started, talking to the locals ...  that sounds ideal.  Hell, I can even
get a direct train there from Glasgow ...  and I get to meet all these
mysterious women you've been staying with ...  and employing.  So, yes,
I'll do the Lakes side.  But now, of course, you have to explain just what
did go on while you were up there ...  "

   So, I bought her another drink.  And explained.  And she hugged me, told
me she was glad to be back