A/N- Here we go, another modern fiction offering from myself. I had wanted to go back to actual Downton time with my new story but with the ambiguity over what happens between Banna in the CS, I find it hard to write that at the moment. I do, for the record, believe in Mr Bates.

I like to add something different to my modern fictions, the 'twist' in this one had been started before by another author before they deleted their story. I have checked with them that it was okay to proceed with my story and they have agreed. Thanks to them.

Although I like to include some comedy (I use that term loosely) in my fictions, this one may be slightly more angsty in places. I have included a lot of other characters, I hope I don't live to regret that. I also seem to confuse Ethel and Gwen. I don't know why. I think I have rectified it, if not I apologise.

This first chapter is sort of an intro to the story, lots of description into Anna and John's background. I am not well versed in religion or anything like that. Although I believe to a certain degree, I am not a church goer by any means. For those of you who are, please correct me if I am wrong at any point during the story.

Also, I really do love receiving follows and reviews. I do read every one, it brightens many a lunch hour to read what people have said about my work. So please do leave me your comments, good or bad. I appreciate them all.

Here we go... sorry for the lame title.

Disclaimer: Downton Abbey belongs to Julian Fellowes/ITV and Carnival and sadly, not me.

'Thank you, Robert,' Margaret Patmore said once more as she walked out of the front doors of Downton Place for the final time as head chef. 'My past twenty years here have been nothing short of wonderful.'

'Please Maggie,' Robert Crawley replied, placing his hand on her shoulder and looking at her with gratitude in his eyes. 'We could have never got this place off the ground without you. You have left us with a legacy which is going to live on long into the future. I just hope your replacement is equal to the challenge. Don't be a stranger.'

With a final embrace, Margaret joined her husband in the car and disappeared into the distance. Puffing out his chest, Robert turned on his heels and took in the sight of his restaurant. Despite owning Downton Place for two decades, the pride that rushed through him every time he walked into the building had never seemed to wane. Opening it with the assistance of his wife, Cora, as a small bakery, the success that they had experienced meant within a year they decided to expand their business. Now, not only was Downton Place, situated in Ripon, one of the most popular restaurants in North Yorkshire, Robert and his wife also owned a chain of bakeries throughout the north of England.

Times were changing, however. When Margaret had decided the time was right for her to retire, Robert had been at a loss as to who to replace such a wonderful chef with. Robert himself was the obvious choice, having trained to be a chef in London before moving up north. After discussions with his wife, it was decided that idea simply wouldn't work. Devoting his time solely to the restaurant would mean his input on the Downton bakeries would suffer. The kitchen workers he had were hard working people, yet none of them were ready, in Robert's opinion, to step up to the role of head chef. No, he needed someone else to come in and take over the reigns, and he knew just the man.

Stepping back inside, he smiled as he saw his head waitress, Anna Smith, busy wiping tables, humming to herself. She was a wonderful young woman, a loyal member of his staff with a mature head for someone of her age. Walking further into the restaurant, Robert rolled his eyes as his youngest daughter and waitress, Sybil was leant on the bar, chatting intently to the bar manager, Tom Branson. He knew something was going on between them, although for his sanity he pretended to ignore it. Robert also made a mental note to question Sybil on the suitability of her five inch heels whilst working in the restaurant.

Owning his own business had meant Robert could give all his daughters a taste of what the real world was like from an early age. As soon as they were old enough, he had them working the odd shift in the restaurant, or at one of the bakeries. His eldest daughter, Mary had taken to her task like a duck to water, her leadership qualities meaning she had climbed to the role of general manager of Downton Place. Edith, Robert and Cora's second born, had a head for figures, so after gaining a degree in mathematics was put in charge of the companies finances. Sybil, on the other hand, had visions of a life for herself beyond her parents business. Her dreams far outweighed those of a lowly waitress, however they also outweighed her bank balance. Working all the shifts she could, her plan was to save enough by the time she was twenty one to go travelling. Now nineteen, her partying lifestyle didn't help her cause, nor her insistence on owning all the latest designer clothes.

'Robert, I sent Gwen home,' Anna said as she noticed him walking closer. 'She's been nursing a headache all evening but wanted to stay for Maggie's last shift.'

'That's fine, Anna,' Robert smiled, stopping beside her before chancing another glance over at his daughter and the barman. 'Have they been chatting long?'

Anna looked in the direction Robert was indicating, grinning slightly before looking up at him as he winced. 'A little while. They get on great.'

'Yeah,' Robert sighed, rubbing his forehead. 'I had noticed. Is Mary still about?'

'I think so, she was arguing with Edith about ideas for next months themed night. It got quite heated so they went through to the back. That was half an hour ago, mind.'

Robert exhaled deeply. 'Right. Honestly Anna, take it from me. Don't ever have daughters. Finish up wiping the tables then make your way home, I'd like you all here early tomorrow to meet the new head chef.'

'I don't see why Mr Crawley couldn't have promoted from within, that's all.'

'Really Thomas, please explain whatever you mean?'

Thomas Barrow nearly jumped out of his skin, turning around to see Robert standing next to Anna, hands on his hips. He was followed out of the kitchen by Alfred Nugent and Daisy Robinson, his fellow assistant chefs who were all finished for the evening.

'Oh, hello Robert,' Thomas stammered, Alfred and Daisy finding his awkwardness rather amusing as they both stifled their laughter. 'Thought you had gone home.'

'Obviously,' Robert rolled his eyes before walking in the direction of the staff quarters. 'I'm off to stop my daughters from ripping each other's hair out. See you all tomorrow.'

Anna stood up straight, smiling smugly at Thomas as he rushed past her, to save his embarrassment more than anything. As soon as he was out of the door, Alfred and Daisy released the laughter they had been holding in, Anna following suit.

'I'm surprised he fit through the door, with a head as big as his.' Alfred said through a smile. 'Talking of big heads, I'm also surprised Jimmy didn't make the effort to say goodbye to Maggie. Or Ethel.'

'Really?' Anna furrowed her brow. 'Jimmy is just as bad as Thomas. You all know he's only working as a waiter here to fund himself through drama school.'

'Yeah, and to try and get into Gwen's pants,' Sybil commented, joining in with the conversation.

'Sybil,' Anna exclaimed, the young waitresses candour leaving her slightly aghast.

'Come on, Anna. We've all seen it...'

'Yes, just like we've all seen you flirting with Tom over there, but none of us make snide remarks about that, do we?' Anna moved on to the next table as she spoke, spraying it with the anti bacterial spray. As she began to wipe, she continued to speak. 'Just because you're the bosses daughter doesn't mean I won't put you in charge of the table we have booked tomorrow night for fifteen people, if you don't stop making such comments.'

'You're so strict,' Sybil moaned as Anna's face broke into a smile.

'She needs to be with a waitress like you,' Alfred said with a wink. 'Come on, Daisy. I'll walk you home.'

'I'm just winding you up, Sybil' Anna laughed. 'See you tomorrow Alfie.'

'I'll text you later, Anna,' Daisy announced as she began to follow Alfred. She stopped to look at Anna before slyly pointing in Alfred's direction. 'There have been some developments.'

'You go, girl,' Sybil whispered, placing a hand on Daisy's arm.

'I shall be eagerly await your text message,' Anna said with a nod of the head before watching Daisy walk away. Looking to Sybil, she took hold of another cloth and threw it in her direction. 'Right Miss Crawley, tables thirty to forty two need cleaning. The quicker we do that, the quicker we can go home.'

Anna unlocked her front door, taking care to shut it quietly behind her. It was gone midnight by the time she arrived home from working the late shift. As she turned to walk up the stairs, she noticed light emanating from the living room. Curiosity got the better of her as she opened the door, looking over to the corner to see her father, Richard, slumped over his desk, snoring away as his laptop sat open beside him. Smiling, she treaded the floor towards him gently before tapping him on the shoulder.

'What... what is it?' He sat bolt upright, his glasses which were balanced precariously on the end of his nose falling to the desk in front of him with a light thud. 'Oh, Anna. Hello Pickle.'

'Dad, it's gone midnight,' Anna said softly, closing his laptop.

'Is it? I must have fallen asleep writing this weeks sermon.' her Dad replied, rubbing his eyes with his hands. 'My new year teachings have to be riveting to keep the flock coming back. Especially with the crowds usually dwindling by February, you know, once people have broken their new years resolution to come to church more.'

Anna laughed at her father's statement. 'I find your sermons highly entertaining.'

'Yes, but you have to say that. You're my daughter.' Once he had risen to his feet, Anna's Dad took her hand. 'How was work?'

'Sad actually. It was Maggie's last shift tonight.'

'Oh yeah, I remember you mentioning that.' Richard replied, making his way to the living room door. As he reached it, he turned to look at Anna. 'The new guy starts tomorrow, does he?'

'Yes, he trained with Robert in London.'

'Ahh, well he will be in my prayers tonight,' Richard added before stepping into the hallway.

'Why may I ask?'

'Working for Mary Crawley. I've only met her on a few occasions, but she certainly seems she could try the patience of a saint. Goodnight Pickle.'

With those words, Anna chuckled as she watched her father begin to make the ascent upstairs before she heard him enter the bedroom he shared with Anna's mother. Pondering her life as she sank onto the sofa, she felt blessed to share such a wonderful relationship with both of her parents. It made the fact she still lived with them at the age of thirty-one that bit more bearable. The truth was, Anna didn't live her life in completely the same way a lot of women her age did.

Anna felt an obligation to lead a responsible existence, she felt her heritage demanded it. She was the only child of a Church of England vicar and a nurse. Her mother, Christine, was retired now, her husbands profession meaning her duties around the parish took up a lot of her time. Anna was well known within the area her father's pastoral responsibilities covered, and she felt pressure to set a good example, particularly to keep Richard's excellent reputation in tact.

Although her father was laid back in his attitudes, more so than a man in his position usually would be, Anna respected his beliefs and followed them herself. Anna believed in God and found comfort in the scriptures, especially with someone like her father on hand to bring them to life so animatedly. He was a character, not your usual blustery vicar who you would imagine spoke about nothing but the word of God. Although his faith was strong, so was his grip on reality.

Richard knew people nowadays didn't have time to listen to him prattle on about gospels and living your life by their teaching. He had his loyal flock, and he was grateful to them, nothing made him happier than professing his love for God and passing that enthusiasm onto willing listeners. However, he also loved helping those less fortunate or had simply found their way onto the wrong path. Thankfully, his work wasn't just limited to a few church services a week. He worked within the local area, Richard's style popular amongst teenagers who wanted someone they could confide in without being dictated to. Anna had gone with him on visits to see younger members of the community, Richard believing joining him would enable Anna to learn from the experiences she heard about. Indeed, one story had struck a chord with Anna, resulting in her making a life choice as young as the age of fourteen.

On a visit to a local hospital, she listened as a badly injured young woman told Richard her story. It materialised she had been attacked by a man, that was why she was in the hospital. After her parents divorced when she turned fifteen, her father had left home and she hadn't seen him since. Her mother, who had given birth to the girl when she was a teenager herself, fell into a world of alcoholism and drugs. The young girl had on occasions, been left home alone for weeks at a time. She had offered herself to men to fund money for food and clothes. Reaching her eighteenth birthday, her mother died as a result of her substance abuse, leaving her daughter on the streets. One of the men she saw regularly offered her a roof over her head in exchange for whatever he desired. She agreed, she would have been homeless if she didn't. One night, she couldn't stand the arrangement any longer and made her escape. She didn't get far, the man caught her and here she was.

She looked Anna in the eye, telling her how lucky she was and to not make the same mistakes she had. Anna was shocked by the story, how something that was meant to be sacred between a man and woman could be used in such a way. Although her father had never enforced such beliefs upon her, she decided there and then she would save herself for the man she was to marry.

Anna's choice went beyond her religious beliefs. When she had questioned her parents on such matters, Richard had said the bible speaks out against sex before marriage, however he didn't believe it was a sustainable lifestyle nowadays. Marriage didn't hold the same power it had in the past. Her mother had advised Anna to do what was right for her and no one else. Christine hoped Anna would save herself for the man she truly loved, and Anna agreed with her. She didn't want relations with men to turn into something that meant nothing, not for her. She had too much respect for herself to allow that to happen.

So here she was, thirty-one years old and a virgin, still living with her parents. Not that she was unhappy with her life. She loved her job. Anna had lots of friends with whom she enjoyed going out with. She went clubbing, she went out drinking, she had lived a life most young people did. She had just never slept with anyone.

That wasn't to say Anna hadn't dated. Laughing to herself, she recounted her past boyfriends. She still experienced desires like young women her age did. The truth was she had never met anyone with whom she could see herself being with in that way. In her eyes, any sort of activity like that would come with marriage. She truly believed she was in for a long wait to meet the one. Not a lot of men nowadays were willing to hold on for such things. Her beliefs had often spelled the end of her relationships. Still, Anna just reasoned that those men weren't worth it. The man who was would respect her wishes, admire her for them even. She would meet him. She just needed to be patient.

She'd had enough practice.

John Bates looked at himself in the hallway mirror one last time, flicking an errant lock of her hair that hung over his right eye back into place. Taking a deep breath, he looked around his surroundings, regarding his new home for what seemed like the thousandth time. Home. This was it now. It was quite a reality shock, moving from a three bed roomed townhouse in London to a two bed roomed flat in Ripon. Still, he had needed to make this break, when the offer came up he knew he would have been a fool not to grab it with both hands.

Deciding he was ready to embark on the next step in rebuilding his life, John knew he couldn't without doing one last thing. Sinking to his knees, he began to whistle loudly. Soon, he heard the familiar sound of padding paws moving closer towards him. And then she appeared.

Roxy. A Jack Russell Terrier who, up until this point at least, had been John's salvation. As she leapt into his arms, John held her tightly. He had acquired her a few months previously, her original owner a former business associate of John's. He was moving to Australia and it was too much hassle to take Roxy with him. So John stepped in. A little under a year old, she was a happy little soul with bundles of character, great company for John as he tried to reacquaint himself with living a normal life.

'Daddy will be back later, Rox.' John said, Roxy looking up at him, her head cocked to the side. 'You've been fed, why don't you entertain yourself by continuing your ongoing romance with that ottoman we found when we moved in here?'

Placing her down on the floor with a final pat on the head, John rose to his feet and watched as Roxy ran into the kitchen. She'll be fine, he told himself before turning on his heel and leaving the flat.

So this was it. The first day of the rest of his life. Time to leave the past where it belonged, in the past and start again. Wincing as the January air hit his skin, John lifted his coat collar around his neck and placed his hands in his pockets, ready to make the short walk to his new place of work.

He hadn't worked a day since it had happened. Since his imprisonment. He shuddered at the memory of being locked up, taking the blame for a crime he didn't commit such was his guilt. His ex wife, Vera, had stolen some money from his workplace, and had been doing so for some time without his realising. He was a chef at a fancy establishment in London's West End. Vera would meet him from work occasionally, John thought nothing of it as he asked her to wait in the back room for him to finish his shift. It came to the attentions of his bosses that money was missing, totalling nearly five thousand pounds. How she had managed it, John didn't know to this day.

Vera admitted in an alcohol fuelled argument that she was the culprit. Alcohol. If John was honest, it had been his mistress ever since he and Vera had married as young twenty something's in Dublin. After training to be a chef in London, John's father fell ill meaning he moved back home to his native Ireland to help his mother in caring for him. Once back there, his father died soon afterwards. Too heartbroken to stay in his childhood home, John's mother requested they sell up and she move back with him to London. But not before John had met Vera.

The relationship they shared was electric. She wasn't stunningly beautiful, yet she possessed something John couldn't get enough of. It became a case of he didn't want anyone else to have her, rather than being in love with her. They married before moving back to London as newlyweds. John's mother bought herself a comfortable little home, leaving enough money for John and Vera to make their own home nearby.

However, the marriage had been doomed from the get go. Vera loved the bright lights of London, nights out in the West End as John worked long hours in his job as an assistant chef, trying to forge a career in the culinary industry. A few months into the marriage he found out about Vera's misdemeanours, her cheating, the shock of them causing him to take solace in alcohol. Soon he found he couldn't stop. Vera blamed her infidelity on John putting his career before her.

She was right, to a point. All John had ever wanted to be was a top class chef. Ever since he was young and had watched his father as he ran his bakery. From an early age John's father would teach him how to make all sorts of breads, pastries and cakes. John was an eager pupil, by the time he was a teenager he was able to create a lot of dishes and desserts off by heart.

Their marriage began to disintegrate, and twenty years later it came to a head when Vera revealed her crime. John was now almost fully dependent on a drink when he came home in the evening, his alcoholism worsening as Vera spent more and more time away from their home. He was amazed how he had kept his job. The final blow came when John lost his mother. He needed help, but most of all he needed to get away from Vera and the guilt he felt at letting their marriage become the disaster it had. John decided taking the punishment for her crime would be the only way to get his life back on track.

Now here he was, three years later. A recovered alcoholic. He wasn't surprised when Vera wasn't there to meet him from the prison gates. She hadn't visited him in the prison once. Their marriage was a lost cause. She was still living in the house they now owned. John had questioned Vera about ending the marriage as soon as he saw her. A few months down the line where he now found himself, they were locked in bitter divorce proceedings.

As his mother's sole beneficiary, John had sold her London home, placing the money in a secure account where he knew Vera couldn't get hold of it. It gave him enough to start a new life, but where that new life was he wasn't completely sure. Staying in rented accommodation, a call out of the blue meant he could start afresh.

Robert Crawley had been his best friend at their first work placement, where they had trained together. Robert moved to the North with his then girlfriend Cora and their daughter, Mary to start a bakery. John was shocked to receive an email from Robert, asking for his phone number as the one he had hadn't been working for some time. Replying immediately, Robert called and the two spoke on the phone all evening. John explained his situation, finding Robert's complete understanding of his state of affairs flabbergasting. By the end of the evening, he had accepted the offer of becoming new head chef at Downton Place.

And now, here he was. John realised there was still a long way to go. He had given up the bottle, but he was still fighting the temptation to drink. His time in prison had changed him. His failing marriage had changed him. He was harder now, less willing to let people in, to reveal his true feelings. But no one knew him here. Only Robert, and he had promised not to reveal anything more than he needed to about John's past.

John had been given a second chance. And he knew better than to waste it.

'Right, now I want you to help John out,' Robert instructed his kitchen staff. 'He's a good chef, he knows what he is doing and will be able to sniff any crap coming from you lot a mile off. When I say you lot, I mean you Thomas.'

'I will be charm personified boss,' Thomas replied with a smirk. 'You know that.'

Robert regarded Thomas with a tentative gaze before Gwen coming into the kitchen interrupted the frosty atmosphere. 'He's here, Robert.'

'Right, fantastic,' Robert strode towards the door before looking over his shoulder, zeroing in on Thomas. 'I mean it.'

Leaving the kitchen, he saw John exploring his new surroundings and immediately smiled. Despite a few wrinkles and a slight greying at the temples, John hadn't changed a bit.

'John Bates, my dear man,' Robert bellowed, approaching John with an outstretched hand.

'Robert, so wonderful to see you.'

The two men shared a greeting as the staff gathered behind the reunited friends. The waiting staff, Gwen Sybil and Jimmy sat in a booth to the side of the room, Anna was in the back room on the phone. Tom was watching from the bar, standing beside his fellow barman William Mason. Turning their attentions to the staff present, John puffed out a breath as he followed Robert to the bar.

'So John, all the waiting staff are bar trained but these two gents keep things in check over here.' Robert explained, reaching the bar and placing his hands atop it. 'This gentleman is my bar manager.'

'How's it going? I'm Tom Branson.'

A grin spread across John's face as he shook Tom's hand. 'I'd recognise that accent from anywhere. A fellow Irishman.'

'You're Irish?' Tom asked, shaking John's hand vigorously.

'Yeah, born and bread in Dublin. Unfortunately, living in London for over twenty years has meant I've lost a bit of my native tongue.' John placed a hand on his chest. 'But an Irish heart still beats strongly in here.'

'Good stuff. Looking forward to working with you, John.' Tom patted his colleague on the back. 'This is William.'

'Hi there,' William said quietly, waving shyly.

'Nice to meet you, William.'

'He's tall, isn't he?' Gwen remarked, watching as John and William shook hands.

'Height isn't everything,' Jimmy rebuked before running a hand through his hair.

'Not when you have locks like yours, eh Jimmy?' Sybil whispered before John and Robert began to walk towards them.

'And these guys, are my wonderful waiters and waitresses.' Robert announced, stopping beside Jimmy. 'We have Jimmy, Gwen, Sybil who also happens to be my youngest daughter.'

'It's great to finally be here.' John greeted them with smile and a handshake.

'Nice to meet you all.'

'Well, not all. Where is Ethel?'

'Late,' Anna said impatiently, appearing from the back room and opening the door with a crash. She was studying a clipboard, tapping her pen rhythmically against it. Looking up, she took in the sight of John standing beside Robert. 'Oh sorry, didn't realise our new chef had arrived yet.'

'John Bates. Meet my head waitress and star employee, Anna Smith.'

Anna's gaze met with John's, she was taken aback slightly as he offered her his hand. She hadn't expected him to be as striking as he was, especially when Robert explained he and John were the same age. Her initial reaction was that he had a charming smile, his eyes were beautiful. He was gorgeous.

'Hello Anna, you seem a little flustered. Is everything alright?'

His voice was so sincere, so kind. She detected a hint of an accent, what was it?

'Ethel isn't the most reliable girl in the world,' Robert admitted, putting his hands in his pockets. 'Why is she late this time?'

Anna found she couldn't avert her eyes from John, barely registering Robert's voice, let alone being able to understand what he was asking.

'It's probably a cosmetic emergency, knowing Ethel,' Sybil supposed, an impatient lilt to her tone. John laughed at her comment as he let go of Anna's hand.

'The car won't start,' Anna finally revealed, stepping away from John. 'Which is ironic as she only lives a two minute walk away. She's just left.'

'Who is working the lunchtime shift, today?' Robert asked, John and Anna still sharing a silent link as Gwen answered the question.

'Myself and Ethel, when she finally gets here.'

'Jimmy and Sybil, you can both leave then. See you later,' Anna instructed her staff, both of them bounding away without having to be asked twice. It was hard to break eye contact with John, a feeling that surprised her somewhat. 'Robert, I'd like to speak to you later about taking on those two new staff members please. Bookings are up at the moment and we need the extra help.'

'Of course Anna, I'll meet you in my office once I've seen John into the kitchen.'

John was impressed with Anna's forthrightness, watching as she began to chat with Gwen about the afternoon ahead. He wasn't foolish, he noticed she was staring at him as the conversation went on around them. He was intrigued to find out why, intrigued to find out more about her.

'Everyone's left now, John,' Anna announced as she carried yet more dirty plates into the kitchen for Daisy to wash.

'Thanks Anna,' John replied, closing the fridge door and turning to face her. 'How was it in the heat of battle tonight?'

'Very busy, but I like it that way. That's not to say I won't be glad when the two new starters arrive next week.' Anna replied, leaning on the kitchen top.

'I bet, it can't be easy to only have two waiting staff when the restaurant is full.'

John began to remove his uniform, Anna watching intently as he moved about the kitchen. The more the days had passed since John had started, the more Anna found herself being drawn in by him. There was something about him Anna couldn't quite put her finger on. The more she spoke to John, the more she was left wanting to know everything about him. He came across as an elusive figure to Anna.

They shared little interactions, little smiles when Anna came to the kitchen to collect meals for the guests. On his second evening, she was sure she felt him shiver when their hands accidentally touched when he passed a plate to her. The way John went about his task left Anna completely transfixed. The manner in which he commanded his kitchen left charisma oozing from his every pore. Anna didn't know where these feelings were coming from. Each night she had worked, she would go home and analyse every moment she had shared with him. On her days off, she wondered how he was getting on without her there.

Although he never revealed much about himself, Anna could tell by the way he spoke John had lived, he was intelligent and had seen things Anna could never even imagine. Experienced, that would be the word she would use to describe the new head chef. Anna was innocent and naive when it came down to it, her beliefs and values dictated this. She couldn't come up with a reason why a man as worldly as John would ever be as interested in her as she was in him.

'How have you found your first week?'

'Good,' John answered, looking up to meet Anna's eyes with a smile on his face. 'You guys have all been great to me. Well, most of you.'

Almost on cue, Thomas walked into the kitchen, followed by Daisy. John and Anna shared a knowing look.

He hadn't said anything, but John had noticed Anna liked to watch him. The attention was flattering, he wasn't going to lie. Of all the people he had met this week, she was the one he had enjoyed getting to know the most. As the days passed, John found himself watching her as well. She really was very pretty, a natural with the customers meaning he had the opportunity to see her laughing on numerous occasions. Her smile lit up the room. The way the conversation flowed between them betrayed the fact they had only known each other a few days. John had never met someone and shared such a connection so quickly. But she was almost twenty years his junior, it was an avenue he knew he could never explore. Her friendship was very welcome as he adjusted to his new life, she was just being friendly. It couldn't be anything else.

'You going home, Chef?' Thomas asked John as Daisy made a start on the washing up.

'Yes Thomas,' John replied, furrowing his brow. 'Unless there is something else you would like me to do before I leave?'

'You're the head chef, you tell me.'

'Don't be an idiot, Thomas,' Daisy sighed without turning around. 'Go home, Chef. Myself and Thomas have everything under control.'

'I don't doubt it,' John kept his gaze locked on Thomas before moving to the kitchen door. 'Best get home to Roxy. Night all.'

'Night chef,' Daisy called after him.

'Roxy?' Anna wondered out loud, John now out of earshot. 'Who is Roxy?'

'What do you care?' Thomas asked coldly, setting about collecting various used utensils around the kitchen. 'He's old enough to be your Dad. To be honest, I never thought the old dog had it in him to have a girlfriend.'

'Thomas, why are you so mean?' Daisy moaned, looking over her shoulder at him. 'Just bring those utensils over to me and keep your unkind comments to yourself.'

'Is it the uniform?'

'What are you going on about, now?'

'Well, you've got a thing for Alfred, now it seems you have your eye on the new boss.'

'Don't be ridiculous...'

Anna left the two assistant chefs to their bickering and left the kitchen. Who was Roxy? And why should it bother her anyway?

Opening the door to his flat, John braced himself for the oncoming onslaught that was being greeted by his Jack Russell Terrier. Yet to turn the light on, he could hear the tapping of paws on the laminate flooring in the darkness. Reaching for the light switch, light bathed the hallway before Roxy almost leapt into his arms.

'Hello my baby,' John cooed, pulling her into his embrace and placing a series of kisses on her head. 'Did you miss me? Daddy missed you, alright. Shall we have some supper?'

Gently putting her on the floor, John followed Roxy into the kitchen, laughing to himself as she ran around in circles underneath the cupboard that housed her food.

'Anyone would think you hadn't eaten in days,' John remarked with a chuckle, opening the cupboard door resulting in a happy bark from Roxy.

Filling her bowl, John stood up before remembering he hadn't checked his phone since he had left work. Looking at the screen, he saw he had three answer phone messages. Inwardly dreading what was waiting for him, he sat at the living room table and placed his phone on speaker.

'John, why aren't you answering your phone?' It was Vera. 'Anyway, I have been speaking with my lawyer and he thinks I am within my rights to ask for the house, seeing as you have upped and left the area now. So be a love and sign it over to me. Then we can end this sham of a marriage. My lawyers will be in touch with yours. Bye.'

Ending the call, John let out a sharp breath. The way she spoke to him, so condescending, like she hadn't played a part in their marriage ending at all. Vera was the one who had cheated, John had never been unfaithful. Part of him wanted to give her what she wanted, to be rid of her, although he didn't see why he should. The house was worth a reasonable amount. Even half of the profits from the sale would be enough for Vera to buy a smaller property for herself. Picking up his phone, John began to dial Vera's number. Although hoping to talk to her, he was relieved when it went straight to voicemail. After a long day at work, he wasn't sure he could talk to her without losing his temper.

'Hello Vera.' John tried to keep his voice as calm and collected as possible. 'I will not be a love and let you have the house. You put no money into it's purchase, if memory serves my mother's money enabled us to buy it. I think I am being more than generous by offering you half. That is still my offer. So be a love, and accept it so we can both be put out of our misery.'

Satisfied with his reply, John looked down at Roxy as she ate, happily wagging her tail.

He may blame himself for the failure of their marriage, but he wasn't about to be taken for a ride. Not only did he owe it to himself, but he also owed it to the memory of his mother. He had been taken for a fool once by Vera. And that was once too many.