A/N: I totally made up the author Elizabeth Armitage since I didn't want to diss an actual one.

Part 2

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A few seconds later John was left standing alone in the lane waving at Donna's departing car. As soon as she was out of sight he hastily pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled a number. "Hello, Mum? Are my black jeans clean? I need them for tonight... Oh nothing, just might be meeting a friend for a drink, so I'll be leaving home just after seven... You will?! Thanks Mum! See you later. Bye."

With an added spring in his step, he headed back to his task, feeling that the world was suddenly opening up all sorts of possibilities.

Ten minutes later, Donna found herself parked outside Lilac Cottage; taking in all its glory. It was everything the name suggested and more. In fact it was utterly gorgeous with it pale lilac daubed walls, thatched roof, Tudor beams and pretty cottage garden full of all sorts of plants. Just the sort of place that would be breath-taking in the height of summer because it looked pretty good in the drabness of a clearing misty day.

She hadn't even reached the oak dark-stained front door with leaded windows and cast iron adornments when it was opened, and an older woman peeped out. Donna estimated that she was probably close to her own mother in age but perhaps a good five years younger.

"Hello!" she exclaimed. "You must be Donna."

"I am," Donna readily confirmed with relief.

"Come in. Come in. I'm Jocasta." She reached out to grab hold of Donna's arm and guide her in through the door. "I was worried you had changed your mind."

Donna found herself standing in a low ceiling room with a small, deeply set window that let in plenty of light into a warm looking, tastefully and sympathetically furnished living room. One wall was dominated by a huge brick fireplace, probably an original feature, and a wood burning fire. Another wall held an enclosed flight of stairs up to the bedrooms. "Oh no, I wouldn't have done that," she tried to console Jocasta. "I got lost, thanks to my stupid satnav leading me in the wrong direction; but I did get the chance to meet a very nice man who told me how to get here."

Jocasta was intrigued by the sudden blush that appeared on Donna's cheeks. "Was that very far from here? I may know him."

"I think it was a couple of miles back towards Charlham. He said his name was John, and he drives a tractor," Donna supplied.

"Hmm. It might be someone from Hollow Farm or Winthrop Hall Farm," Jocasta guessed thoughtfully. "Oh well! I might recognise him if I ever see him. Come through to the kitchen and I'll make us tea before I show you where everything is."

Donna gratefully followed her into a surprisingly modern kitchen. The only nod towards the past was the almost compulsory AGA cooker that probably also supplied the heating and hot water. Many such cottages had them.

"We'll have some lunch once you've brought your belongings in and you've seen your workspace," Jocasta declared decisively.

Donna could tell that Jocasta's general no nonsense attitude would extend to every aspect of her life. Even Jocasta's clothing was functional and had a style of its own. "Talking of work, what sort of thing do you do? I know you're a writer, obviously, otherwise you wouldn't need me here, but I don't know anything beyond that."

"Don't you, dear?" Jocasta seemed rather taken aback that Donna didn't know her fame. "I write historical novels; romantic historical novels, to be precise. Ever heard of Brannigan's Bard?" Getting a shake of the head, she forged on with, "Mission Reliable? Wessex Foolery? Oh you must know Walk of the White Lady!"

"I'm afraid not," Donna admitted, still shaking her head. "I'm more of a P. D. James or Agatha Christie reader, to be honest, although I did once read an Elizabeth Armitage." That admission didn't go down very well.

Jocasta sneered, "One wonders why you would."

Best not to mention Elizabeth Armitage then. "It was just lying about when I was on holiday," Donna apologised. "I didn't specifically choose it."

"Yes, well, enough about that. You'll soon become acquainted with my work." There was much bustling about, getting out the tea things on the worktop in front of her whilst the kettle boiled.

"I'm sure I'll love it," Donna vowed, partly in appeasement.

They sat down together at the small kitchen table to enjoy their beverage.

After having poured them both tea and taken several sips of the hot liquid, Jocasta thoughtfully considered Donna. "What do young people do in the evening?"

"Wear hoodies and hang about being bored underneath streetlights, from what I've seen round our way. Why?" Donna asked in return, sipping from her own cup.

Jocasta sighed. "No, my dear. I'm trying to find out what you would like to do for entertainment this evening."

"Oh, I see! Not that I'd class myself as being young anymore," Donna modestly blurted out, and then blushed as she remembered her earlier encounter. "I erm... Seeing as you have nothing planned I can think of something to possibly try out tonight."

"Really?" It wasn't exactly a surprise to Jocasta's ears; she was expecting her new acquaintance to rattle off a list of all the television soap operas she wanted to view. That is, she did, until she spotted the accompanying blush.

"Yes. Sorry about this, seeing as it's my first night here, but John mentioned a pub around here called the Red Lion." Donna then did her level best to nonchalantly drink the rest of her tea. "We could go there tonight, you know, if you fancy giving it a go."

"Me... in a pub...," Jocasta muttered to herself as ideas whirled through her head. Here was a first class opportunity to observe a possible brand new romance up-close; it'd be invaluable research for future writings. She leaned in closer to Donna and proffered her first query. "Tell me, my dear, what did you think when you first saw this John?"

That didn't need much thinking about in the slightest. "Relief, mainly. The satnav had dumped me in god knows where, and he just showed up in his tractor."

"Describe him for me, please," Jocasta urged her to continue with.

"Well erm… He's quite tall, about the same age as me, fairly slim built, he was wearing your typical farmer gear; you know, big black coat, flat cap and green wellies. Oh, he has a nice unshaven face with these big brown eyes, and as far as I know he isn't married or anything." Donna briefly grimaced. "He could be newly divorced. Who knows?" A little shrug was added for emphasis.

That was interesting, Jocasta thought. Nothing was discouraging so far. "And what do you suppose he thought when he saw you?"

"I have no idea! Probably saw a batty woman hanging on his gate shouting at him and took pity on me, for all I know. I wasn't worrying about that aspect; I just wanted him to tell me where I was going," Donna answered honestly.

"Interesting," Jocasta sighed. "How did he come to mention the pub?"

"It's strange you should ask," Donna admitted, "because I've been wondering that myself and just assumed he was being friendly after all we'd talked about. I told him about my satnav, he came and sat in my car..."

"He sat in your car?!" Jocasta interrupted.

Donna anxiously licked her lips at the implied accusation. It hadn't seemed a wrong thing to happen at the time but now she was being forced to reconsider it. "He did; to see why my satnav had thought I'd reached my destination," she hastily excused him. "We decided I'd caught the screen with my nail." She held up the offending finger. "Then he reset it all, told me where this place is and then invited me to a welcome drink some time. He was very nice about it all; not a bit creepy."

"I'm sure he isn't, but I must admit that I like the idea of actually going into the local pub and possibly getting a sneaky peek at your rescuer. Yes, I shall take you up on your offer and stay for a while." Jocasta obliviously rubbed her hands together in glee. "It will be such an adventure! Just think of it; I can see the title page already."

Title page?! "Title page of what exactly?" Donna wondered.

"Why, my next book, my dear! I shall use this experience to decide on my characters. Of course, I shall change the names from the people in the pub," she added as she gripped Donna's arm conspiratorially. "We can't have them trying to claim royalties, or sue me for defamation of character."

"Of course," Donna murmured in reluctant agreement. "This next book, which I am assuming will be a romance; you'd better not be thinking of putting me in there," she warned.

Jocasta instantly looked extremely guilty. "You, dear? No, dear! I would never do that to you; not without consultation."

That was a 'yes' then. Donna tried to hide her appalled expression behind her fingers. Her new employer was turning out to be nuttier than a fruit cake. A bit dotty, but nice with it; and this was her first time working for a writer. For all she knew this was a tendency of writers... Or not, as the case may be.

This view continued when Jocasta showed Donna the pile of work she would have to surmount. There were folders and files propped up at all sorts of odd angles around the small office space that had taken over the vast majority of what would have been the dining room. In one corner there was an ancient filing cabinet, and a gasping cheese plant sitting in an ornate pot, that had seen better days. Fortunately the computer and its printer were fairly new and reliable models.

"I'm afraid there are rather a lot of papers," Jocasta apologised. "My last typist got rather confused, and mixed up all sorts of things."

"So you've always used a typist?" Donna enquired.

Jocasta nodded. "I suppose that I should have explained that I dictate my stories and then revise as I go along. Is that a problem for your skills? I could use a personal assistant in my daily life to help me sort things out."

Donna smiled confidently back. "Not a problem at all, Ms Newberry."

"Call me Jocasta, please." A relieved smile spread across her employer's face.

The smile on Donna's face faltered slightly as she considered her reflection in her newly acquired bedroom mirror some hours later as she got ready for their trip to the pub, and her thoughts inevitably led to John the farmer's boy. Was she mad for not pushing for a date with him but leaving things really vague between them? Was she mad for questioning this decision? Or was she madder for having told Jocasta? It was all very bewildering, to be honest, and a little exciting.

It was a rather old mirror hanging on her new wall. In fact every item of furniture in the low-ceilinged room was probably antique and expensive, or at least extremely hard to replace. Fortunately the bedding was all fresh and new, so that was a relief to her system. The general quietness of the place was a little unsettling but she was sure she'd adapt, eventually. Anything had to be better than the constant hubbub of the city and the people there... okay, one particular person.

A sharp rap on the door brought her out of her musings.

"Are you ready, Donna?" Jocasta stood expectantly on the small landing. "Do you think I should take my notepad?"

This would be like dealing with a child, she realised. "Definitely not, if they aren't used to seeing you in there. They'll end up thinking you are an inspector, or just plain rude," Donna warned her.

Jocasta's eager face fell. "Okay, if you think so. But another time...?"

"Yes, another time," Donna agreed with a friendly touch on the arm. "Let's get going." Who'd have thought she'd end up leading an older woman astray on her first night in this job? It certainly felt like she was leading Jocasta into a midnight feast or a jolly jamboree from one of those Enid Blyton books.