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