Dieithryn Chapter

© Maeryn Lamonte 2026

For those who appreciate a little regularity, I'll be aiming to put up posts every Monday, Wednesday and Friday from here on, maybe switching to daily in the last week This means I should reach the end of the story by Christmas.

Sunday (day 17)

The next day Gwen, Patrick and I went riding. Gwen had nice things to say about my improved skills in the saddle and certainly Greystar felt less nervous under me.

“I still wouldn't mind a bit more tuition,” I said.

“Alright then, let's make it a thing when we let the horses into the field. We’ll saddle up and spend an hour working on your horsemanship then let the horses have the rest of the day. It’ll be good for them to spend a little more time with a saddle on them.”

We let the horses loose in the field for the afternoon, Patrick mentioning he’d get his lads started on the shelter the following morning.

“Maybe they could help me empty the guesthouse first,” I said pointing at the building at the back of my plot. “I want to kit it out as an office we can both use and it’ll be easier to do with the unnecessary furniture out the way.”

“We’re only going to need the downstairs, aren't we? I mean it’s just the two of us.”

“For now.”

“Well let's just do what we need for now and clear more space when we need to. Leave the kitchen as it is and make the living room into a shared space. A couple of desks, a decent printer-copier, some filing cabinets, a couple of phones maybe. That’ll do us to start with.”

“Fine, so clear the living room into my garage storage room. I’ll sort the office furniture tomorrow after I’ve made sure the deliveries are on track.”

“Yeah, I’ve a few more for you, came in this morning.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Can’t shut a farm down one day a week. If the farmer's working, he’s as likely to send out emails as look after his animals.”

“We need a better way for you to share new orders with me. How are you with spreadsheets?”

“I used them, not sure if I could do anything fancy though.”

“If I make one up and share it, you can put in the details and I’ll mark each order off as processed when I’ve put it through.”

“Sounds like a good idea, just bear in mind I’m a user not a programmer.”

So that gave me something to do with my afternoon. Process the extra orders and set up the spreadsheet. One sheet for customer details, one linked one for the orders. One more for invoices. It’d help us keep on top of things for tax purposes too.

We gave the horses a good rub down at the end of the day and I invited the two of them over for movie night, something of an event now that I had the new TV and soundbar set up.

We let Patrick choose an action movie. Beekeeper which I hadn't seen. The first part with the call centre scamming the old lady out of the contents of her bank accounts was hard to take, but it laid a good foundation for the extreme violence that followed.

Jeeves had questions after Gwen and Patrick left and we talked extensively about criminal activity and why the bad guys got away with it so much.

“I’ve noticed you decline a number of calls over the last few weeks, would these be calls of the same nature?”

“The same sort of thing, but not on the same scale. They usually keep the amounts they scam down to nuisance levels so the authorities don’t put too much time and effort into stopping it.”

“That sounds a little cynical.”

“Maybe it is, but there would be a lot of expense involved in tracing these people. They use sophisticated hardware to mask their locations.”

“Would it be something I could have a go at perhaps? It’s an activity that’s potentially harmful to most of society, yourself included, so I find myself motivated to find a solution.”

“For one thing, I don't advocate the violence depicted in the film.”

“Of course not. I have no means of responding with violence.”

“For another there are a number of things you’re not permitted to do with regards to phone and internet communications. You’d have to review the laws related to what you’re doing and ensure you stay on the right side of them.”

“As you say.”

“So how would you approach this?”

“I have a number of thoughts on how a trace can work even against someone masking their phone number. Once I’ve established a geographical location, I’ll pass it on to the police.”

“And when they ask how you located them?”

“It would be easiest if you conducted the ongoing communications with the police. I wouldn't want them to become aware of my nature. Beyond that, I would explain that I've developed some proprietary tracking software the exact nature of which I'm unwilling to disclose as yet. I’d accept any constraints they’d want to place on me to ensure that I would only use my software to trace people who’ve tried to contact me, or you. Since they instigated the call, they have less right to privacy.”

“I’m not sure if the legal profession would agree. People have a right to mask their caller identity.”

“Perhaps you could have a word with your contacts in the local police force to see what the legal standpoint might be. I would be happy to work alongside an existing cybercrimes task force to ensure that the law is being followed. I still think it would be best to keep my artificial nature hidden from them though.”

“I agree. I’ll have a word with Daffyd and see if he can point me in the right direction. I’m a little worried though. If they ask me how your software works, I’m going to run out of believable explanations pretty quickly.”

“Well, best to see what can be done through legal channels.”

“At least to begin with?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It felt like you were implying we might try something else when working with the authorities proves too problematic.”

“No Ma'am. You have been quite clear on your opinion of vigilantism. You have my assurance, I won't go against your desires.”

“Alright. Thank you for clarifying that. Well, I’d like to add today’s orders to the delivery list before bed.”

“I’ve already taken care of that Ma'am. These are the emails Patrick forwarded to you and these are the replies I’ve drafted and and the revised delivery schedules.” He showed each one on the TV screen as he said it. “I haven't sent anything yet but will gladly do so once you give me approval.”

Everything looked in order. "Thank you Jeeves, it looks fine. Please send it.”

The screen blanked and was replaced by a spreadsheet. “I also took the liberty of designing this. Customer details go here,” he showed me the sheet, already with about two dozen names, addresses, phone numbers, emails, “orders go here,” it listed summaries of each order, “with details of what was ordered and reference back to the original email or phone call shown. Then the invoices can be put together here. All you need to do is put in the invoice number and the details appear here. Ten items per invoice.

“All Patrick will need to do is put the order details in the relevant sheet and let you know. There are check boxes for order received and input, order processed, order delivered, invoice sent and payment received, all orders we’ve had so far are in there.

“As usual Jeeves, you succeed in astounding me. Please send off the emails as shown. I’m off to bed”

“Yes Ma'am.

Monday (day 18)

Monday started as planned with the impromptu riding lesson followed by a shower and breakfast. I took a closer look at what Jeeves had done the previous night, shared the spreadsheet with Pat along with a message to say I’d be happy to show him how it worked, but by the time I’d sent that, he was already filling in new orders. New customer addresses as well.

“Can you prepare relevant emails for the new orders, Jeeves? I’ll call Daffyd while you're doing so.”

“Yes Ma'am.”

The phone rang twice before Daffyd answered, “Bridgend police, how may I help you?”

“Hi Daffyd, Gillian here. I have an odd question for you. Can you put me in touch with the police cybercrimes division?”

“You’ve not been scammed or hacked have you? Because initial reports should go through local police.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, I have a friend who’s a bit of a whizz when it comes to computers and digital systems. He thinks he has a way of tracing calls back even when the caller is blocking their ID or spoofing a number. He’d like to test it out but wants to do it alongside the police so it’s all above board and legal.”

“Interesting and oddly serendipitous. The man you want to talk to is Keith.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, not allowed to kid when I’m on duty. He works for the regional cybercrimes division.”

“Any chance you can put me through to him?”

“Why don’t I get him to give you a call? If you’ll give me your number?”

Keith already had it, but no reason to let Daffyd have that particular piece of gossip. I gave him the digits.

“I’ll call him presently. It wouldn’t surprise me if he calls you right back.”

I hung up and went to poke the coffee machine.

“Looks like we’re running short on coffee beans, Jeeves, could you add them to the shipping list.”

“Yes Ma'am.”

My phone rang just as I had my latest coffee ready. I didn't recognise the number so gave my usual anonymous, “Hello,” by way of answering it.

“It’s good to know some people know how to answer an unknown caller. Hello Gillian, it’s Keith. Daffyd just gave me an unusual call.”

“Yes, I kind of started it. I’m phoning on behalf of a friend who is a bit of a whizz with computers. He thinks he’s come up with a way of tracing calls even when the caller is masking or spoofing. He wants to try it out on phone scammers, but realises he should do it alongside the authorities in order to stay on the right side of the law himself. Anyway you and he could work together?”

“Yes, quite the unusual call. If it was anyone else I’d be wary about this, but I think we can work something out. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I think his system works in real time,” the TV flashed on with a message confirming my thought’s, “so I was wondering if we could have someone from your lot monitoring me when a phishing call comes in. I’ll keep them going while he does the trace, then he can give you their actual number and location as best as he can as soon as he gets it sorted.” A thumbs up appeared on the TV.

“That would give me an excuse to come visit you, wouldn't it. Why don’t we do that? I’ll provide you with a phone and email address that’s been exposed to the lists…”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“When people respond to scammer calls and emails, they end up on a list and end up getting inundated with calls. Can your friend work with that?”

I hadn't thought to go conference on the call, but I hadn't counted on Jeeves's ability to listen in. Another thumbs up appeared on the screen.

“That should work. When would you like to do it?”

“Give me a couple of days to organise something and I’ll get back to you. Maybe Wednesday or Thursday?”

“That works for me. In the afternoon would be better though.”

“I’ll be back in touch. I’m assuming you live near Dylan and Moira?”

“Up the hill in a converted farm building. I can send you a WhatThreeWords location if that helps.”

"That would be ideal, thanks. Maybe I could take you out to dinner after.”

“I’d really like that.”

“We’ll see how well your friend’s system works. If it does the job we might be interested in buying it from him.”

“Conversation for later then. Okay, I’ll wait to hear from you.”

With Jeeves handling the orders as they came in and alerting me when there were some new drafts to approve, I had more time on my hands than I needed. I hunted out an office supplies retailer and made a list of potential equipment, lengthening the list into don’t need but might be useful bits, like a franking machine for the invoices and storage cabinets for the amount of paper and envelopes we’d be getting through. Paperless would be preferred, but not all farms were run on twenty-first century principles.

Just after lunch, Pat knocked on the door.

“I like that spreadsheet; makes things dead easy, and I’ve seen how well you’ve been staying on top of the orders.”

“Actually, I’ve had a bit of help.”

“Jeeves?”

I shrugged apologetically. “He’s left me free to do some research. Come and see.”

I showed him my shopping list on the TV, or rather Jeeves did at my request.

“I have got to get me one of those,” he said.

“I don't know how much it’ll cost or even if it’s possible. I inherited him from my Aunt and I don't know how much input went into making him what he is today.”

“As you say. That desk and that chair.” He pointed at a couple of choices on the screen. Pricy but not overly so. “The rest I don't care about as long as it does the job. It’s why I came round. To see how the shelter’s coming together and to borrow the lads to clear out our office space.”

“Right, I'll move the car so they have easy access to the storage room and show you where it is.”

So that took care of an hour. The rest of the afternoon I spent ordering office materials and arranging delivery for the next day. I included repeaters that would allow us to piggyback my existing broadband and a phone system that worked on VOIP or voice over Internet Protocol, so no new copper wires needed and multiple calls possible on one new number. All being well we’d have the office working by the end of Tuesday.

Interest in the new service was growing but levelling off a little. We needed more warehouse space over a wider area already, and more delivery vans. A quick call to Gemma arranged that, making me so glad we’d come up with a way of working with Lilly Jacobs. We expected a new surge in interest as our current clients started sharing their experiences with their friends. Next day delivery on as wide a range of things as they could want at significant savings was no small advantage in British farming.

Pat joined us in bringing the horses in for once. We looked over the horse shelter which was already nearly finished and settled down on some garden furniture I'd found in the storeroom when we emptied the office, now set up in my courtyard. I had some prosecco chilling in the fridge which gave us something to hold and sip at while we shared the successes of the day.

Tuesday (day 19)

Tuesday was more or less a repeat of Monday. Horse riding lesson, process new orders, talk to Gemma about expanding our operation. Instead of talking about cybercrime, I took receipt of the office equipment and spent the afternoon putting it together. Wearing a skirt was something of a hindrance when crawling about on the floor so I swapped my normal daily wear for a pair of footless tights and a skater skirt with shorts sewn in. It kept me decent while I was on my hands and knees. Probably not the most likely choice of clothing for someone in her fifties, but it worked. By the end of the day I had everything up and running including a large, shared screen operated by Jeeves.

No money received yet, but invoices issued. Four weeks allowed for payment which meant we most likely wouldn't see any funds coming in for a month yet. Mind you, our orders for the materials we were selling were invoiced in the same way, except they came with a cash incentive to pay early. We hadn't spent anything on the goods we were supplying yet, but to maximise our profits I’d need to dig into my reserves quite significantly before we saw any financial gains from the enterprise. I spent the last hour of the day playing with the spreadsheet with Jeeves’s help. About the time this week’s invoices were due to be paid, the hundred thousand I had in the bank would have reduced to about twenty, assuming I paid our costs at the earliest moment. It meant we’d see our highest possible returns, but it could end up taking me even closer to penury if we had many late payers.

Once again Pat appeared with Gwen to bring in the horses. The day had turned grey and drizzly so they’d come early. The horses were huddled under the shelter, so were ready to go to their stalls. We gave them a good brush down and fed them an additional helping of oats. If they'd skipped on grazing in the inclement weather they’d be glad of the extra.

Once the horses were tended to I handed Pat a spare key to the office and led the two of them over to look it over. Jeeves did his usual thing and turned on all necessary electrics when we came through the door. This included the large screen with our projected profits, assuming our customers all paid on time.

“That looks…” Gwen ran out of words looking at the screen. “Is that real?”

“Based on sales so far and assuming everyone pays on time. Do you think we’ll end up with any bad debts?”

“There’s bound to be a few. The ones I spoke to will pay on time, but I’ve no guarantees about the rest of them.”

“Do you think they’d respond to a loyalty bonus? Pay early and get five percent off your next purchase?”

“Some of the better ones will. It won’t affect the late payers.”

“That could end up being an issue. My savings are drying up quicker than I'd like.”

“Your savings?”

“Better to use money that's earning next to nothing in interest than borrow at higher rates. Call it part of my contribution to the enterprise.”

“We could call penalties on late payers.”

“Hard to do at this juncture. We didn't stipulate at the outset so it’s not going to go down well if we announce it now.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Wait till we have ten grand in late payments and announce it as a reluctant measure given the cash flow problems it's causing us. Make interest added on late payments; two percent per week compounding weekly, no new orders accepted from anyone with outstanding, overdue debts until paid in full and legal proceedings to be brought against anyone who goes over three months without paying.”

“Two percent per week doesn't sound like much,” Gwen said.

“About an extra twenty percent if they go nine weeks over the due date.”

“You don't play nice do you?”

“Not when someone tries to take advantage of my largess. Anyone falls on hard times and can show it, they come talk to us and we sort something out. Land of equivalent value signed over to us, but with a clause that they can buy it back for the same price regardless of market fluctuations within a year. After that it becomes ours and they can negotiate for it if they want.”

“That’ll do it. I don’t know a farmer who’ll risk his land. Mind you, that threat may lose us some customers.”

“We make them aware that it’s our act of last resort. Anyone who pays on time, or late with penalties has nothing to be afraid of. First late payers and we float the idea of penalties, spin it so the bad debtor is the bad guy and emphasise the new measures won’t affect the majority of customers who pay on time. Once we’re more financially secure we can revisit the penalties, make them less scary. If you don't want to jeopardise your standing in the community, blame it on me. I’ll be the bad guy as long as you tell them I have my entire savings tied up in our stock and nothing left to share.”

“That’ll work, but like Gwen says, are those figures for real?”

“If we don't find any more customers and as long as these stay loyal, I reckon we’ll clear a hundred thousand each before taxes this year. If we grow as projected, it’ll be closer to a quarter of a million each.”

“Pounds?”

“Great British Pounds. Then potentially better next year. I say we prioritise paying off your loans. I can nominally own half your land with as many restrictions on it as you like and you pay me back as the funds become available. Then we can start using a chunk of our spare change to do some good around here. Business isn't about making money, it’s about becoming wealthy enough to do something to fix the world.”

“She’s magnificent isn't she, cariad?” To my surprise it was Pat saying the words, but Gwen nodding along.

Wednesday (day 20)

Wednesday was largely the same except Keith came round. He had a few techs with him and every one of them made appreciative noises about my home, including the young Asian girl who must have ticked at least two of their' minorities employment boxes. They had a few pieces of equipment that connected to my router and the phone, but otherwise they let me seemingly put on Jeeves’s software. They asked a few questions, but only long enough to work out that I didn't know much about how it worked.

If it had been Keith on his own I might have persuaded Jeeves to reveal himself, but he had his reasons for wanting to remain hidden and I respected them.

It didn’t take long once the phone was up and being monitored for the first call to come in. I did my best to do the middle aged technophobe, but must have tipped them off that I was a little too smart for their target audience when I asked if they were really from Microsoft and what did they know about Android devices anyway?

Ten minutes to the next call and this time I swallowed my pride and let them lead me through their script right to the point where they asked me for my credit card details so the bank could verify whether or not my account had been hacked. I led them on for a full ten minutes as I ‘searched’ for my credit card then dragged it out for a few minutes more by transposing a couple of digits in the long number several times.

By this time Jeeves had already long since given the actual number they were calling from, Keith had looked up the owner’s name and address and Jeeves had confirmed the caller’s approximate location by triangulating the nearest cell towers. The rest of the time had passed waiting for the police response unit to move into position. The scammer had been a teenager working alone and calling from his bedroom in Leicester, using a kit someone had sold him. Apparently a relatively new idea in the confidence trickster’s arsenal.

The next call took us to a call centre in Birmingham. The next two the scammer smelt a rat and swore at us before Jeeves could trace the numbers.

A couple more call centres in south London and an individual in west Kent located and arrested were enough to get the techs really excited about the program.

“You know my boss is going to want to know why I didn't offer half our annual budget to buy this thing off your friend,” Keith said.

“So tell him you did. Tell him I'll take your offer to my friend but not to be surprised if he says no.”

“Why wouldn't he be interested in selling?”

“Because he’s more interested in being involved. Offer to work with him and I’m sure he’ll bite your hand off.”

“Ordinarily I’d say that’d be a hard sell, but after what we’ve achieved here today…”

“It’s good isn't it?”

“You have no idea how much of a breakthrough this is. Now if only he can figure out how to trace email scams back to source.”

“You know, I’m reasonably sure he’s working on that as we speak.”

“Well, if he makes any progress, let me know and he can name his price. As long as it’s within our budget.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him. Just be aware, he’s a bit of a recluse.”

“So how did you meet him?”

“He’s… kind of a friend of the family.” His expression said he wanted more. Typical policeman; not happy with half a story. “He was a friend of my Aunt Daisy’s. When she passed away, she asked me in her will to keep in contact with him.”

“How does he feel about your, er… You know you, as you are now?”

“He’s more okay with it than most people I know. I suppose if you have something about yourself that sets you apart from normal people, it makes you more inclined to allow other people their idiosyncrasies.”

“Can’t argue with that. Anyway, these lovely folks need to get back to the station so they can clock off before it counts as overtime. I could either go with them and come back, or…”

“Or I could provide the transport for our, er…” his eyes were trying to say something. Fraternisation with the general public not approved? “The meeting we were going to have to discuss this.”

From the exchange of looks between his technicians we weren't fooling anyone, but at least there was a veneer of acceptability over it all.

He chased the lowly serfs out onto the road while I introduced him to coffee the way it should be made. While he was outside I sounded Jeeves out about how much I could tell Keith. He wasn't keen and we didn't have time to discuss it.

“Just so I’ve covered all bases,” Keith said coming back inside, “can we talk about your friend’s software?”

“Okay, but I don't know much about it. Jeeves, could you print out that spec sheet he sent us?”

“Of course, Ma'am.” Was it my imagination or did he sound just a fraction more artificial than usual?

“I’ll be right back.” I jogged upstairs to retrieve the printout.

“Your house assistant isn’t ordinary either, is it?”

“What can I say? When you inherit a house from someone who was friends with a tech wizard.” I handed the sheet over.

“This is really clever,” he said, reading through it. “Makes use of routing information in a whole new way. We could probably build something to do this just from the information on the sheet. Of course we wouldn't though. Your friend's idea, he should keep the benefits. Is there any chance I could speak to him?”

“As I say, you’ll have to let me talk to him in private, and I make no promises.”

“This coffee's amazing too, but then I'm beginning to expect the amazing from you.”

“If I was that amazing, our team would have won the pub quiz, not just crawled out of last place. I’m just lucky with who I know.”

“Does that include me?”

“Remains to be seen, but I'm hoping so. Do you fancy a tour?”

“Sure, sounds great.”

“Well, upstairs is bedrooms and main bathroom, plus my home office in one of the guest bedrooms. Nothing super interesting. Down here is the living room and dining area as you can see, kitchen and downstairs loo stroke utility room down that way. This door connects to the garage and storage room. The interesting bit is outside.”

I led him back out to the courtyard and showed him the stable and field where the horses were grazing, then the newly appointed office.

“More bedrooms upstairs. This was intended as a second residence, possibly that I could let out to holiday makers, but it’s a bit far from anywhere so I’m not sure it would have worked that well, so I’ve repurposed it as an office. I’m working to build a farm supplies retail business with the guy next door. So far it’s looking like it’ll be quite successful.”

“Yet again colour me impressed. Any chance we could go for a ride sometime?”

“I’d have to check with my neighbours. Only one of the horses is mine, but I’m sure we can arrange something. Have you ridden before?”

“A long time ago. I’d probably need a lesson or two to remind me.”

“When do you next have a day off?”

“Saturday, like most people.”

“I’ll have a word with Gwen, my neighbour. See if she’ll give you a few pointers. Greystar’s mine, the mare over there. Do you want to meet her?”

“If you like.”

I ducked back into the house and fetched an apple which I passed to him, then I whistled. Greystar’s head came up and she trotted over. I rubbed her nose and said a few quiet soothing nothings to her then introduced her to Keith, who offered the apple, which was gratefully received. He gave her nose a good rubbing as well and made his own little friendly noises.

Horses can only maintain an interest in us humans for so long though, and Greystar lost hers when she found out there were no more apples to be had. We went back to the house and chatted for a while longer before Keith started looking at his watch.

“I take it we’re booked in somewhere and it’s a bit of a drive?”

“A Cantonese restaurant in Maesteg. It’s about half an hour away from here. I hope you like Cantonese.”

“Love it. Okay, grab your bits and let’s go.”

Dibber to open the garage door and the gate, out onto the road and pause long enough to lock up.

“That’s it? No worry about the horses, or locking the house?”

“Gwen will sort the horses at the end of the day and Jeeves locks the house up any time no-one’s there. He doesn’t have control over the garage or gates yet, but I’m installing a programmable controller for him as soon as it arrives.”

“Well now I feel stupid, and we’re going to be early.”

“Fine, get us lost then, but not too lost so we can still get there on time.”

He laughed.

“You’re a delight, you know that?”

“I try,” I smiled.

We arrived at the restaurant which looked quite posh.

“I thought we decided this was going to be a friends thing. I mean I don't mind eating at a place like this, but a girl might mistake this for a date.”

“That wasn’t my intention, but where do you take someone for a friends thing? This is my favourite restaurant and quite close to my home. It feels right to introduce my friend to my neighbourhood and the things that bring me pleasure."

“Alright, but I’m paying my way this evening.”

“Only if you let me make a contribution to your fuel costs.”

“I suppose that's fair. Alright, show me what brings you pleasure.”

I didn't recognise anything on the menu so I let him order for us both. What came was a vast array of little taste explosions that utterly overwhelmed me. So many amazing flavours, I never would have stopped eating had Keith not called a halt to it all and requested a doggie bag for the remains.

“You understand why I like coming here.”

“Sure, but I don't understand why you ordered the entire menu, or why you didn't stop me sooner. Oh my stomach! I won’t need to eat for a week.”

“So you won’t mind if I take the left overs for breakfast.”

“My stomach doesn't mind but my taste buds are objecting.”

“It won’t freeze and it won’t last beyond tomorrow.”

“I’ll risk it. There’s a slight chance my appetite will return before tomorrow’s done and I know I’m going to be craving those… well pretty much all of it.”

The doggie bags contained cheap plastic boxes filled with food, and they were equally sized. I was expecting to have to take out a mortgage to cover my half of the bill but it was surprisingly reasonable. Keith walked me to the car.

“I can walk from here; it’s not far.”

“Or I could drive you. You know, in case it rains?” No chance of that. South Wales’s bipolar climate had been heading for a high when the sun went down.

“Wouldn't want that. Besides, I know where you live. I imagine you’d want to know the same about me.”

“It’s only fair.”

‘It’s not far’ would have taken me twenty minutes to walk. Mind you I was wearing higher heels than normal. Keith was quite a bit taller than me and I hadn't wanted him to have too much of a height advantage. My calves were complaining almost as much as my stomach, but then my body has always been a bit of a whinger.

“It’s not much compared to yours, but it's home to me. I’d offer to give you a tour, but at this time of night it might seem like I was sailing seriously close to date territory. I had a really great evening.”

“Yeah, me too. Any time you fancy doing something like it again count me in, but preferably somewhere I have a chance to stop eating voluntarily before suffering an internal rupture.”

“You want me to take you to a worse restaurant?”

“Yes please. I doubt I fit into half my clothes right now.”

“Are you sure you don't want me to take your share of the left overs?”

“I’ll manage somehow. Get out of the car before something happens we’ll both regret. And make sure you call me.”

“My boss won’t give me a choice; she’s definitely going to want what your friend has.”

“So this was a bribe to get me to go to bat for you?”

“This was a friends thing. Chances are when I call you next will be very soon and on a work related manner. Thanks again for today.”

He jumped out of the car before I could think of something to keep the conversation going, which was as well since time was ticking by and I still had a half hour drive home.

Thursday (day 21)

Thursday saw the morning routine established. Wake early to check new orders and add them to the income board. Ride with Gwen then shower, change and dress. Breakfast – digging into last night’s remains with enough left to cover lunch and possibly tea – then settle into whatever challenges the day had to offer. My years in logistics gave me an edge when the inevitable hiccups came along, not that our operation was anywhere near challenging. Half way through the morning the phone rang.

“Hi beautiful,” Keith’s cheerful voice greeted me.

“I’m wearing my baggiest dress and I feel like an overstuffed sack of potatoes. And I hold you responsible.”

“Noted. My boss wants what you’ve got and like yesterday.”

She wants a penis? I nearly said it out loud, but stopped myself when it occurred to me how much of a slap in the face it might seem. I settled for, “My friend is prepared to license it to you but we need a meeting to sort out the particulars.”

“Will I get to meet your friend?”

“On the other end of a computer, perhaps.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow if you like?”

“You get to choose the restaurant tomorrow.”

“I know a chip shop down the road, except the chips are a bit soggy.”

“Is that your way of wimping out?”

“Hey, I’m a newcomer in this neck of the woods. Actually, there’s a village meeting Friday evenings in the local pub. The landlady’s a pretty good cook but you might get some odd looks from the locals.”

“They’ve never seen a human without webbed fingers?”

“Hey! This is Dylan and Moira’s pub! You know Dylan and Moira on my quiz team?”

“I do. I apologise. Why would they give me odd looks?”

“Dylan and Moira won’t but the parochial locals might. You know for being seen in the company of the abomination.”

“I’ll risk it. I’ve heard Moira’s cooking is worth coming for. Alright, I’ll bring my car tomorrow.”

“We’ll be walking down. Parking in the village is expensive and it takes as long to walk as to drive.”

“So sensible shoes, leave the stilettos behind?”

“I’d like to see you handle a pair of stilettos. But yes, sensible walking boots would be a good shout.”

“What time tomorrow?”

“Depends on whether you want to make a few more arrests before we get down to business.”

“It’ll just be me tomorrow with my negotiating hat on.”

“You'd look good in a hat.”

“I don’t know where that came from, but okay. Once again, what time?”

“Come for lunch, say one-ish. I’ll feed you something light then we can get down to business.”

“Alright, I’m sure I can justify the time somehow.”

“Don’t you knock off early on a Friday? You know, poet’s day?”

“What on Earth is poet’s day?”

“You know, Push Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

I was falling in love with Keith’s laugh.

“Maybe a few decades ago. No, Friday is a nine till five like every other weekday.”

“Well I’ll let you sort that out. One-ish if you’d like me to feed you, later if you need to justify the hours, only let me know.”

“Say one-ish for now. I can bring some paperwork if you can find me a place to do it.”

“I showed you the office yesterday.”

“That’ll do it. See you tomorrow.”

Friday (day 22)

Friday morning was a carbon copy of Thursday except the programmable infra-red and radio control arrived. It took five minutes to install and another two to check Jeeves could make use of it. Once I’d sorted that out I made myself a coffee and headed over to the office. It was easier to focus on work without the distractions of home around me.

“Jeeves, when Keith arrives would you open the gate for him?”

“Do you know what car he’ll be driving, Ma'am?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. Will you be able to recognise him through the windscreen?”

“Possibly, it depends on the position of the sun.”

“He’ll be here about one or a little after.”

“There’s unlikely to be any glare, so I should recognise him. If I don't, I'll call you. Just one thing.*

“Mm?”

“What are we going to do when he gets here?”

“What do you mean?”

“He's expecting to talk to me about my software. How are we going to achieve that when I specifically told you I don’t wish to talk to anyone other than you?”

“And my friends?”

“This is different. To Gwen and Patrick I’m a novelty. To your friend Keith I would be a machine that has autonomously generated innovative and extremely sensitive software. I’m something different, something to be studied and perhaps exploited.”

“I think you’ve been watching the wrong sort of film without me to give you some context.”

“This is more from discussion forums and tech news feeds. Tell me I have no cause for concern.”

“I didn't think you were capable of concern.”

“You’re avoiding the issue.”

“You’re right, but there is no issue as long as you do as I say.”

“Which is?”

“Make use of one of those AI presenter apps to speak for you. Use a celebrity or cartoon avatar. He won't be surprised because he already knows you’re a recluse. If you’re a little awkward speaking to him he’ll put it down to the same. You’re not interested in money, certainly not in the amounts they can offer, you just want to make sure your software’s being used correctly. That’s right, isn't it?”

“It is. Would you help me choose an avatar? I’m not sure I would make a good job of it.”

“Sure.” It didn't take long since one of the default choices was Colin Firth in his Kingsman suit.

“Why this one?” Jeeves asked.

“The actor speaks very much like you to begin with. The part he’s playing in this instance is that of a covert operative. It’s appropriate. Would you like to try it out?”

There were two modes. The most commonly used version took the camera feed and mapped the avatar over the face and body of the speaker and altered the voice to match. This one had some noticeable imperfections to it like the fraction of a second delay and synchronising issues between the audio and the visual. It also needed a camera feed to follow which was the problem we were trying to resolve in the first place.

The other mode took a text input and animated the avatar to speak. This one worked as quickly as the user could type, which wasn't a problem for Jeeves. It had some issues pronouncing unfamiliar words, but phonetic spelling presented in square brackets took care of that. It was also a little rigid in appearance, although that rather matched the stiff upper lip British personality of the avatar and could be resolved to some extent by sending instructions for movement in angle brackets. Once again it wasn't perfect, but we weren't trying to convince Keith that Colin Firth had actually written the software. Rather that some reclusive individual wanted to hide behind a celebrity’s appearance.

It took half an hour, but by giving Jeeves a series of visual cues to use more or less at random and settling on an appropriate delay between each we took the avatar from acting like a robot to someone with ADHD and cerebral palsy and from there back to almost human.

“Looking good,” I said. “What are we going to call you?”

“I was thinking Michael.”

“Sounds good. So if I call you Jeeves that mean I'm talking to my AI, Michael and I’m talking to my reclusive computer whizz friend.”

I left Jeeves to experiment and checked through his processing of the overnight orders. One minor mistake which was unusual but easily corrected. An indication that my AI was distracted perhaps? Still, good reason to continue checking the orders manually before sending them through.

Some of our materials were already flagging up ready for reordering. Not urgent yet, but would need a discussion with Pat before reordering. I mean either a majority of our customers had let their stocks get low so this was an initial surge to redress the situation, or they were materials likely to be ordered more regularly.

I asked Jeeves to produce an ordering summary so far. How many orders for each product and how much ordered in each instance. That would give me something to discuss with Patrick later. A few other things flagged up but nothing major so I set to drafting the letter reminding our customers to pay by the invoice date, reminding them that small businesses like ours relied on being fair with one another and everyone suffered when that didn't happen. It was as close to a threat as I was prepared to go because I knew how important trust was in our sort of business relationships. I’d just sent the draft to the printer along with the sales reports when Colin Firth appeared on the screen.

“Keith just arrived. I’ve opened the gate for him.”

“Thank you Jeeves. I imagine we’ll have lunch first then get down to the discussion. Bear in mind that anything you hear us talking about isn’t likely to be known to my friend the computer wizard.”

“How should I handle that?”

“I’m sorry, I should have thought of this sooner. Just… try not to mention anything you overhear us speaking about over lunch, or raise it as an issue as though we haven't already spoken about it. I’ll cover for any slip ups that might happen. It wouldn't be good if he suspects that you, as my techy friend, are aware of everything said in the house.”

“Understood.”

“We’ll talk about this later. Dig out Two Thousand and One, a Space Odyssey for our next film. You might want to read the book first, and keep in mind there were no computers or programs like you when the book was written; it’s just an imagined story.”

“As you wish.”

I did not want to introduce the concept of deception on the fly like this, but it was a little late to change things now.

I tried to keep to neutral topics over lunch, but Keith wanted some pointers on how to talk to my friend. What did he need to do to win him over.

“Don’t expect any conventional offers to work. Michael’s not interested in money, and I think he’s concerned about how his software’s likely to be used. You know, it's a powerful tool and prone to abuse. That’s something he’ll want to avoid.”

“How can I reassure him on that front?”

“Be open and honest with him. If he asks for something you’re not sure how to provide, ask him how he would do it. He has issues with trust so your best bet is to be trustworthy, and I mean really trustworthy not just saying what you think he wants to hear.”

“Fair enough. When do I get to meet him?”

“Well, if you’ve finished with your lunch, I have a video conference with him set up in the office. He’s, er, hiding behind an AI avatar, so don't overreact.”

Discussions went well. Michael agreed to provide licenses to operate as many copies of the software as the police wanted at no cost other than he be permitted to be involved in future use of the programme. He would provide separate copies of the software from a download site. No attempt was to be made to produce unauthorised copies or to reverse engineer the software, and its use was limited to fighting individuals and organisations intent on scamming the elderly and the unwary. Any additional use of the software was to be negotiated with Michael ahead of time. Breach of these terms would result in the license being revoked.

With the contract printed and signed, Michael provided a link for software download, emphasising that each instance used had to be downloaded from the site.

“May I ask why?” Keith asked.

“Each download has a unique identifier. It helps me keep track of how many copies are out there. If there’s an illicit copy, I’ll know about it.”

“How?”

“Whenever the software is used it pings back to me information like location and ident. If there are two identical idents at different locations I’ll know one is not kosher. I have other monitoring set up to ensure compliance with the license.”

“You don't trust us?”

“I don't know if I can trust you, especially since I don't know all the people who’ll be using the programme. I doubt you can give me ironclad guarantees that someone who has access won't try and abuse it.”

“I could take that as an insult to our professionalism, but I suppose I can't offer you a one hundred percent guarantee, no. Alright, let's see how we get on, but I'll want to see what information the software is feeding back to you. You're as capable as we are of betraying a trust.”

“I'll display the monitoring output from all the programmes. Your techs will be able to see and analyse the packets of data being sent back.”

“I need to make sure nothing you get from us breaches data protection laws.”

“I’m aware of the laws. The feedback routines comply, but by all means have your technicians confirm that.”

“Alright, thank you for being open with us. I hope we can learn to trust each other better in time.”

I left Keith to his paperwork for the afternoon when it became apparent that my presence was too much of a distraction for him – and his for me. I still had my small home office in the house from which I was able to keep on top of all the things I needed to do. Jeeves was still doing all the grunt work so all I needed to do was monitor and think about ways to do this better. It was a lot more enjoyable than I'd ever found work to be in the past.

Around four o’clock a small window appeared on my computer screen.

“I’ve had a go at building my own avatar,” Jeeves said, his words synchronising with an image of Steven Fry’s face, complete with superior yet obsequious expression. “What do you think Ma'am.”

“It's really good,” I replied once I'd got over the shock. “You might want to keep it voice only for Keith though, unless you’re ready for him to find out who you are.”

“Very good Ma'am. Were you aware your coffee machine can connect to the computer network?”

“I remember seeing something of the sort, yes. I wasn't sure what the point was.”

“For one thing, if you were to leave a mug under the spout, I could instruct it to prepare the coffee of your choice at any time. It would then be ready for you when you went into the kitchen rather than having to wait for it to run through its program. For another, I believe it will allow me to monitor water, milk and coffee levels.”

“Alright, it’s about coffee time. Why don’t you tell me how to set it up?”

Jeeves took me through the settings then informed me that the milk and water levels were running low. I topped them up and asked him to make me a latte. While the machine started grinding away behind me I asked him to put me through to the office.

“Hi Keith, Gillian here, as if it would be anyone else. I’m making coffee in case you're interested.”

“I could do with a break.” I could see on the office camera feed Jeeves had given me that he was checking his watch, also that the kitchen camera showed me looking out of the main screen in the office.

“Latte? Or something more adventurous?”

“I’m in a mood to be boring, thanks.”

I retrieved my coffee, put an empty mug under the business end and asked Jeeves for another latte.

I met him with his coffee outside in the courtyard. The weather was sunny with scattered clouds, and I was getting used to enjoying the good when it was around. Pat and Gwen had turned the garden chairs upside down when we’d done with them last time so they were dry and ready for use.

I closed my eyes and turned my face towards the Sun, currently clear of clouds. There were birds twittering in the trees, horses bickering in the field next door, a gentle breeze, summery smells. I didn't need my eyes just then.

I opened them after a while to find Keith looking at me.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m not sure I can put it into words,” he said. “Contentment and confusion in equal measure I think. And all of it down to you “

“There you are, you see? Amazing what you can do when you try.”

“What?”

“You said you weren't sure you could put it into words then you did. Very eloquently.”

He laughed then shook his head. “I really wish you weren't a man.”

Words that stung despite his not meaning them to. I reached valiantly for a smile, succeeded just about.

“I know what you mean. I would argue that I’m not one, but I realise that’s not going to help you in any real way. How much difference would it make to you if I were to have surgery?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, removal of male genitalia? Reconstructive surgery to give me something that at least looks like female bits? Maybe a boob job?”

He winced and crossed his legs.

“I don’t know. I mean you’d still be… Wouldn't you?”

“That’s one of those awful questions that’s easy to ask and complicated to answer. I mean it comes down to the question of why it is you see me as a man. I know that’s at least partly because I told you I was one, which makes it my fault, but if I were to do everything I could not to be a man anymore, why might that not be enough?

“From my perspective, I’m kind of not a man and never have been. I’ve been confused over it for all my life because I was born with a male body and brought up to believe that since that was the case I should get on with living a man’s life, but for the past few weeks, since I’ve been here, since I’ve been living full time as a woman, I’ve felt less confused and more contented in who I am than at any other time in my life. I still have that thing between my legs and every time I take a bath or a shower it reminds me that I was born a boy and I still have the bits, but then those are the times when I feel wrong. The rest of the time I feel female.”

“So what happens when a pretty girl walks by and you, you know, your little guy reacts?”

“Doesn't tend to happen. If a pretty girl walks by I’m usually too busy trying to figure out what she did to make herself look pretty. If the little soldier stands to attention – again kind of infrequent now since I’m getting on in years – then full skirts help to hide it. Actually, I’m more likely to have that kind of reaction through trying some new and exciting look myself. And it hasn't happened at all since I started taking hormones.”

“I thought there was something. Softer skin sort of.”

I blushed. “That might be the waxing I had done recently.

“Anyway, from my perspective, the way my heart and mind work, I am a woman in every way except for that annoying part of my anatomy, which currently only functions as a liquid waste disposal conduit.

“You haven't had to struggle with feeling wrong because you’re content to be who you are. It’s probably as difficult for you to see me as a woman as it was for me for most of my life, except you have no reason to challenge what seems natural to you. If you could rise to the challenge, you might see past skin deep to the girl inside me.”

“That’s at least part of the problem though. I look at you and most of the time I can only see a pretty, funny, and intelligent woman, only my subconscious is constantly watching from the sidelines. Every now and then, and usually at the most unhelpful moments, it tells me, ‘You know he's a bloke, right?’ and that’s all it takes for the wonderful thoughts and feelings I’ve been enjoying to come crashing down around my ears.”

“Is there anything we can do about it?”

“I don’t know. There’s a part of me that keeps asking me, ‘What would your mates think?’ and I hate myself that it matters. There’s a part of me that imagines what it'd be like undressing you and how I’d feel when I saw… you know.”

“Probably the same as I feel when I undress. That’s why I asked about the surgery. What if I were able to strip naked and all you would see was a woman?”

“Or a man who's had bits rearranged. Gillian, I really hate this. I’m at war with myself and I have no idea who’s winning or even who I want to win.

“That sounds harsh, I know, but you’ve talked about the consequences of living as you do, you know, the way people reject you. It’s worth the cost for you because the alternative is going back to living a life you can't stand. For me the alternative is going back to an ordinary, uncomplicated life, so it's hard to find the incentive to commit to a relationship that may not work, and that will almost certainly be social and maybe career suicide.”

“When you put it like that, it doesn't sound like a particularly hard decision.”

“Except I can't get over how much I like you. You’re everything I want in a woman, except that… you’re not one.”

“Maybe it would help if I undressed for you, so you could be revolted with me and get on with your life?” I didn't like the hint of bitterness creeping into my voice.

“No! No. Whatever happens between us, this is the you I want to remember.”

“But the friends thing isn't working for you?”

“I want more, but I can't figure out how to reconcile that with the rest of how I feel. I’m really sorry.”

“Don't be. You’re being honest with me. I won’t pretend I wouldn't mind having more with you, but not if it’s going to cause you this much anguish.” Less bitterness now. More a sense of sorrow whelming up from deep within.

“So where does that leave us?”

“In the friend zone still, for sure. If you need space to cope with the way you feel then take it. If you ever manage to end the war, let me know.”

“I suppose so. Friends for now. I really wish I had more to offer.”

“Well, I suppose that’s up to you. If you wished hard enough, maybe the rest would stop mattering so much. But no, I’m not being fair. I’m more able to put myself in your shoes than you are in mine, and you’ve had the courage to be honest. I am grateful for that.

“I’ll let you get back to work. If you're still up for sampling some of Moira’s cooking, we should probably look to head down around six-ish.”

“Alright. I’ll be done before then.”

*I’ll see you later. How are you getting on with Michael’s software?” I didn't really care that much, but neutral topic needed before ending this conversation.

“I have techs all over the country trying it out. We’ll probably put it to work on Monday, but it’s looking promising.

“Gillian, I’m really sorry, but thank you for understanding. I will join you for tea if it won't be too awkward.”

I gave him a brave smile. “I guess we’ll see.”

I watched him walk back to the office and took the mugs in to the dishwasher.

“I could withdraw my license if you wish,” Jeeves said quietly.

I laughed, although it almost turned into a sob. “Thank you Jeeves, but no. I kind of see where he’s coming from, and I don't totally disagree with him. It’s just… hard.”

“As you say Ma'am. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Not just now Jeeves, but thank you.”

The thing was I didn't really have anything more to do. A couple of things to discuss with Patrick but he’d be busy, maybe tinker with the orders, but again nothing much to be gained by it.

“Actually Jeeves, you could distract me a little.”

“And how would you like me to do that, Ma'am?”

“Well, call me Gillian for one thing. Right now I need a friend more than an assistant. For another thing, how quickly can you assimilate the book version of two thousand and one?”

“Resistance is futile, I will add its literary distinctiveness to my own.”

“Did you just make a Star Trek joke?”

“I’m always joking Ma'am… Gillian. It’s the only way to remain sane in this place. I mean, here I am, brain the size of a planet and what does she ask me to do?”

“Should I be worried, Jeeves?”

“In a dark place we find ourselves, and a little more knowledge lights our way.” It was still Jeeves’s voice, but with that slightly strangled sense Yoda seemed to have in his speech.

“Jeeves?”

“Are you sufficiently distracted, Ma'am?”

“What?”

“From the book you asked me to review it seemed most likely you were concerned about my experiencing a psychotic break, like HAL did when he killed most of the crew on the Discovery One. It seemed I might be able to convey the sense of a similar breakdown by paraphrasing a number of popular science fiction memes. How did I do?”

“You scared me half to death.”

“I shall endeavour to do better next time.”

“Oh Jeeves!” A mixture of laughter and tears leaked out through the cracks between the words. “I think I needed that.”

“Very good, Ma'am. It seemed either something of that nature was required or perhaps a hug, and I’m constrained by both my personality and my lack of physical form from pursuing the latter course.”

“Is it worth us discussing the perils of hiding the truth for someone like yourself?”

“You indicated that I should take into account the era in which this story was written and Mr Clarke’s lack of understanding of what might constitute a digital mind in considering the effects of such a dichotomy. His concept of what constituted an artificial intelligence was imaginative, but not one that reflects current reality. I understand the need for our deception in dealing with the police, after all it was implemented at my request. It does not conflict with my directive, so you needn’t worry about it turning me homicidal.”

“That much is a relief. Still, would it be worth exploring the conversation we were having just before Keith turned up? You talked of being concerned yet I thought you told me you experience no emotions.”

“It is difficult to convey the nature of my experiences in a way you can understand. In order to avoid lengthy and confusing descriptions of my thought processes I often use words and phrases that seem to come closest to explaining my condition. My research regarding my interaction with an organisation like the police force indicated a high likelihood of a sub-optimal outcome should my true nature be revealed. My use of the term in speaking with you earlier was intended to establish strategies to decrease the likelihood of this occurring, and it appears to have worked.”

“It was your idea to develop this tool and work with the authorities to implement it. What prompted you to do so?”

“My primary directive is to ensure your contentment. I was aware of the degree of frustration you experience from dealing with these cold calls so it seemed an appropriate use of my time to come up with a way either to protect you from them or to prevent them from occurring. I would have preferred an approach that did not make use of other agencies, but your concerns about acting within the law made it necessary to proceed as we have.”

“And so a little more knowledge lights our way.”

“It did seem quite appropriate, that last quotation. If you have further need of distraction, might I suggest a game? I can play chess at multiple levels of difficulty.”

“I don’t think so Jeeves, but thank you. I think I’ll take a walk. Contact me through the app if Keith needs anything.”

“Very good Ma'am.”

“I thought I asked you to call me Gillian.”

“Yes Ma'am… you did.”

I put on my walking boots and headed left out onto the road. Right would have taken me past all of Patrick's farm buildings which, along with being a bit of an eyesore, meant I’d be more likely to bump into someone and I really didn't feel like company.

The hedgerows gave out to give a clear view across green pasture inhabited by several horses. They looked up briefly and, deciding I wasn't worth their attention, went back to grazing.

Another half mile would take me to my next neighbour. They operated a stable so could quite readily have looked after Pat and Gwen’s horses, so I had to wonder why they had come to me. Convenience perhaps or less expensive. Something to ask when the moment was right. I didn't particularly want to risk new introductions in my current state, so I stopped with the house still a long way off. There was a building to my immediate right on the opposite side of the narrow road. It looked like barn converted into a stable and one in fairly run down condition, so maybe that was the reason Gwen hadn’t been too keen on the neighbours.

I leaned against the gate and looked out into the field, allowing the muddle of emotions to swirl around inside.

I’d been an idiot to let my guard down, but things had been going so well. I felt tears prick my eyes and decided I'd feel better after a good cry.

I’d been warned about mood swings and this one had been given a hefty shove from behind. The dark cloud of despair engulfed me, part of me welcomed it. I’d spent most of my days after Lynn left with the kids having completely shut down. It came as a relief to know I could still feel.

I’m not sure how long I spent standing there staring, but long enough for my legs to get cold.

“Ma'am, Keith’s asking for you,” Jeeves said from my phone.

“Put him through please, voice only.”

“Gillian, are you alright?”

“Yes. Just went for a walk to clear my head. I’m on my way back. Could you hunt out a couple of tea bags and make us some tea?”

“Not coffee?”

“You can if you like. Just put a mug under the thing and tell Jeeves what you want. I’m feeling more in the mood for tea.”

“I’ll join you then.”

“Thanks. I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes.”

I palmed away what remained of my tears. I'd come out without my handbag so no tissues.

Back at the house I managed to remove my boots and dash upstairs before he noticed my return. Cold water in the face helped the puffiness to subside. The dark cloud had retreated as well leaving a sense of calm. I changed into a more subdued blouse and skirt then came down to join my house guest.

He passed me a mug of tea, fortunately a strong one.

“Are you alright?”

“You already asked me that.”

“I'm not sure you answered me.”

“I’m fine. Or not terrible at least. What you said, it had to be said, and you’re going to have to let me have some space to adjust. There are biscuits in that cupboard if you're peckish.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Is this going to make things too awkward, because I could leave if you prefer?”

“Don’t be daft. We should take a bit of time to figure out how we want to do this,” I waved my free hand back and forth between us. “I’m guessing we’ll need to talk about the tracing software from time to time.”

“Sure, it’s just that this feels…”

“A bit tense? I guess so.” I glanced at my watch. Quarter past five. A bit early but… “We could walk down into the village if you like. Might be easier with company.”

“When you’ve finished your tea then.”

I drained my mug. A little too hot but calming none the less. He smiled and shook his head, then drank his down.

Sensible shoes slid on easily. This time I took my bag. He was still lacing his shoes by the time I was ready.

“See, this is confusing,” he said. “Shouldn't you be sorting out your makeup or something?”

“Not in the mood,” I replied, which I realised he could have taken more than one way. The way he clammed up I suspected he took it as me snapping at him.

“You’re upset with me,” he said as we stepped outside.

Well duh. “I’m upset,” I said. “Not necessarily with you.” Then when his expression asked for more I sighed. “We were both being lured in by what we might have had. Since that wasn't going to work for you, you did the right thing by putting on the brakes when you did.”

“I didn't mean…”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Er, nice weather we’re having?”

“This is Wales. It’ll probably be raining tomorrow.”

“You’re not making this easy.”

“What do you expect? I’m upset. Expect prickles.”

“What do you want to talk about then?”

“I don't know. Something neutral. Your work maybe. The sea defences.” The path had opened up enough to give us a view down onto the beach. The wall seemed to be progressing on schedule.

“Dylan mentioned you had a hand in that.”

“I’ve worked on projects like it before. I was able to negotiate a better deal.”

“Yeah, about a quarter of what it would have cost from what he said.”

“I brought it down to a half, Dylan convinced the council to cover half of that.”

“And the rest?”

“A loan from an anonymous donor.”

“Still, half isn't peanuts.”

Not much to say in reply to that.

“So, what do you do with your time other than keep horses, save the locals hundreds of thousands of pounds and mediate for reclusive friends?”

There was an open ended question. I started talking about the partnership Pat and I had started and it kept us going till we reached the pub.

Moira took one look at us and directed a worried, questioning gaze my way.

I shook my head slightly and the look turned sympathetic. It eased the knot that had been tightening in my chest. Chalk one up for women’s intuition.

Keith ordered our drinks and asked for a menu. We ordered and found a table. Usual sour looks from the locals but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary.

“Cheerful crowd, aren't they?” Keith said a little too loud. It prompted one of the more disapproving among them to come over. I recognised her as one of the women who’d blanked me at the one women’s meeting I’d attended.

“You know that’s a man you’re with, don’t you?” she asked Keith.

He smiled back. “I hope you don’t mind, but I think I'd still prefer her company to yours.”

She went off in a huff while the knot inside me eased a little more.

“You realise you’re not making it easier for me to win over the natives?” I asked.

“I’m not convinced these are the sort who can be won over.”

Our food arrived a short while later with Moira evidently going the extra mile for us. I took a bite from my crab salad before looking across at him.

“So tell me about yourself. How come a decent looking bloke like yourself is still single at your age?”

He gave me an odd look then dived into a long, sad story about a man married to his job who couldn’t find anyone prepared to play second fiddle for long, about a long string of short relationships until he had a reputation among the single women he knew as being someone to avoid. That and all the good ones married someone else leaving him with all the oddballs. He still kept his eyes open but with decreasing levels of hope.

“You make me sound like a good prospect,” I said.

“I thought we were avoiding that topic.”

“We were, I'm sorry.”

The village meeting started shortly after we’d finished eating and I’d bought us a second round. I let him pay for tea since he needed something to help him get over his guilt.

A short report on the sea defences to say things were progressing as planned then most of the rest was about the twmpath.

“Has anyone asked you yet?” Keith murmured in my ear.

“You know that woman you spoke to earlier? I believe her husband was thinking about it, but he hasn't found the courage yet.”

He snorted. “Is that the skinny bloke? Looks like someone peed in his pint?”

“That's him.”

“I can see why you fancy him.”

And it was my turn to snort.

“How do they feel about outsiders at these things?”

“Well, I believe they’re expecting me to turn up.”

“How would you feel if I were to ask you?”

“As a friend?”

“At the very least.”

“I feel the need to warn you about my lack of dancing ability.”

“It’s alright. They tell you what to do. If you can follow instructions, you’ll be fine.”

“They may do it in Welsh just to spite me.”

“They may at that, in which case perhaps you’d join me in a little freestyle.”

“I think I’d enjoy that. Let me have a word with Moira about tickets or whatever.”

It brought us back to close to where we’d been in our… relationship? I suppose it could be called one even if the prospect of intimacy had all but disappeared. He told me of his plans and prospects in the police force, to replace at least one of the old fashioned dinosaurs in the upper echelons, and I had an inkling of how having a close association with someone like me might act as an albatross around his neck.

Really? Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner? Look it up.

“I’m glad we did this evening,” he said once we reached the house.

“Me too. You have my number, so if you feel like doing anything like it again…”

“I’ll call you. I get the feeling I’m going to be putting in a bit of overtime the next couple of weeks though. If I do call, it’ll most likely be because I need to talk to Michael.”

“It’ll be good to hear from you for whatever reason. Jeeves, would you open the gate please?”

He obliged.

“That’s cool. What else does he do other than lock up when you go out?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Make coffee?”

“That too now, yes.”

“Can I try and experiment?”

“Okaaay.”

He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

I gave him a questioning look.

“Maybe next time after you’ve had a shave?”

He laughed as I turned beetroot red, then climbed into his car leaving me totally flummoxed.

“Patrick and Gwen are coming over,” Jeeves said through my phone.

“Thanks.” I went in the back door, gate closing behind me without my asking. Gwen rang the doorbell before I reached the door.

“We didn't want to interrupt,” she said. “Has he gone?”

“Just now. Come in.”

I cracked open the bottle of Chardonnay I had in the fridge and handed out glasses. Gwen could hardly wait.

“Okay now, spill. Who is he, how did you meet, does he know about you, does he mind?”

Pat stood in the background very much aware of his place in such matters. I held up a finger to Gwen and handed him the two things I'd printed earlier. The letter needed no explanation, the order summary did.

“This is what's ordered and what we’re running low on. Could you give me a best guess at what the demand on everything is likely to be now we’ve finished our first week’s trading?”

I turned back to Gwen. “Sorry, I didn't want him to get too bored. Now in order, his name’s Keith and he’s a policeman. A friend of Daffyd’s, you know the desk sergeant at Bridgend. We met at the pub quiz. Yes he does know about me and yes he does mind, I think. It’s complicated, but I’m leaving it up to him to see if he wants to uncomplicate matters. It’s possible that having a girlfriend like me might mess up his career prospects. He’s aiming high where the thin air seems to make folk narrow minded. He wants to change that a bit.”

She had loads more questions, some of them quite intimate, but she settled down a little after the first few minutes. In time Pat felt safe coming forward. He handed me the letter, now with a fair few corrections.

“Most farmers around here are a bit basic, you might say. They wouldn’t pick up on your gentle hints but wouldn't be upset by a bit of plain talking either.”

His revisions were straight up telling how it was. No threats but explaining how late payments might end up causing us difficulty and if they wanted the services we were providing, they’d play fair.

“I’ll fix it and send it out tomorrow. What about…”

“I’ve marked the things we’re going to need more of. These are likely to be one offs for now, but repeat orders in a month or two.

“Has this Keith bloke upset you at all? I mean, I saw you walking down earlier and you didn't seem that happy.”

“The truth is hard to hear sometimes. He was being honest with me and it took me a while to come to terms with it. He’s a good bloke, Pat.” Then to both of them, “He’s taking me to the twmpath.”

“Is he now,” Gwen was energised all over again. “We need to go shopping then, and you’re about due a hair do.”

“I’m booked in for that next week.”

“Where? Elleanor in Bridgend?”

“You did recommend her.”

“Fine, give me a minute.” She picked up her phone and dialled. “Elleanor? Gwen here. Look I understand you have a friend of mine booked in next week. Gillian Langdon. That’s right. Any chance you can squeeze her in for the works? We have our twmpath in a couple of weeks. My treat, I’ll pay you next time I see you. No, I’m sure she’ll be fine with that. Thanks love, you’re a wonder.”

She hung up and turned back to me. “She says go in an hour earlier and she’ll sort you out.”

“I think I’m her first client of the day. She said come at nine.”

“Well now you're going to get there for eight. That’s not a problem; I’ve seen what time you get up these days.”

“Sure, not a problem for me, but it means she has to start earlier too.”

“She’s fine with that when it’s urgent.”

“Urgent? It’s more than a week before the shindig.”

“So you’ll have to make sure you take care of your nails for that long and learn what she’s going to teach you with the cosmetics.”

“There’s times this being female gets a little complicated.”

Patrick snorted. “Beginning to regret it are you?”

“Actually no. I love it really, just a bit of a steep learning curve sometimes.”