Gie my love brose brose, Gie my love brose and butter. (Brose and Butter, Robert Burns)

Shelagh Bernadette Mannion made herself comfortable at her usual table. She flipped through her work diary with care, even though she knew exactly what she had planned for the day. Paddy brought out her porridge from the pub kitchen, followed by a pot of tea, a jar of honey and a jug of milk.

He fetched two mugs as he was accustomed to. Bernie had become his first regular customer of the day, shortly after her father had died. Ever since he had spotted her on an early morning walk, after a sleepless night. He had invited her in and they had shared stories about the village's much mourned church minister. After that she seemed to be passing most mornings just as Paddy was opening the inn doors. Once Bernie had found full-time work, breakfast became a regular thing. Bernie, more used to early morning London than early morning rural Yorkshire, started calling him Pat-A-Manger.

He liked to sit and relax and take tea with her. Indulging himself before the day got started for real and the Crown creaked into action. Violet would arrive soon and set to work in the tiny pub kitchen, followed by Jack. A pal of Tim's, whom Paddy had taken on, after a nudge from Sergeant Chummy, when he had dropped out of sixth form. Jack helped Vi in the kitchen and though too young to work behind the bar, he made a good glass collector and waiter.

The Crown didn't start serving breakfast officially until nine, but Paddy always got the porridge going early for Bernie.

"Busy day?" He asked gesturing at her diary, Bernie nodded a smile.

"How is it going? It's nice to see you smiling again, that's all," he said, spooning sugar into his tea.

The smile he was referring to suddenly disappeared and a frown started to appear between Bernie's ice blue eyes.

"Not that you were ever miserable," Paddy was backpedalling now, "I just meant you seem more settled since you started working for Crane Carers. Less restless."

Bernie relaxed and the captivating smile returned, "I do like working for Phyll, even though she is a hard taskmaster," Bernie gave Paddy a cheeky grin, stirring honey into her porridge. "I have learnt so much from her in the last few weeks. I had never thought of working in the care industry, but I am finding it so rewarding." Bernie added some more honey to her bowl. "Phyllis really is a life-saver; it's given me a focus and some extra money before I return to London."

"Well you looked after your dad very well from what I saw. I would give you a reference any day," Paddy reassured her and then added, "I am so glad you decided to stay on, at least in the meantime." He paused and gave his tea an extra stir, "It can't have been easy having to move out of the Manse, when Reverend Julia arrived."

"Well it is not like she threw me out Paddy, she was more than kind to me," Bernie interjected quickly, "The house does come with the job and Poplar needed a new vicar once Dad had gone." Bernie took a gulp of tea and reached again for the honey pot, "My role at the church has never really been official and of course Julia wanted her own team around her." The visitor stirred a drop of milk into the hot oat mixture. "There is never just one way to be of service," Bernie's voice seemed to fade a little the more she talked.

Paddy could only offer, "Indeed," feeling outside his comfort zone. Bernie fell silent as she ate her breakfast. Paddy looked into his mug for inspiration.

Her life had changed beyond recognition over the last year. She had returned to the North-East on discovering her father's illness and nursed him for a few too short months before a second stroke finally took him. Her intention had always been to return to the inner-city mission where she had worked for the last 6 years, but somehow she never had.

It was around this time that Phyllis Crane RGN, sold the private independent care home she had developed in an old manor house on the outskirts of the village. A national company jealous of its reputation had snapped it up for an undisclosed sum. Matron Crane had used part of that money to set up a small care firm based in and around Poplar.

The area's population was growing older, more recent generations migrating to the larger towns and cities. Many of them were falling through the community care gap. Their life savings prevented them from receiving benefits that would qualify them for free or subsidized homecare packages. With their families no longer based locally, there was a demand for affordable care in the region. Enabling people to stay in their own homes, that in some cases had been handed down the family line for decades. Matron Crane banded together a couple of her most valued care home staff and formed Crane Carers in a hope to bridge that gap.

Phyllis had a strong social conscience and did not only feel a sense of duty towards the sick and the elderly. Poplar born and bred, she had always involved herself in the youth initiatives within the parish. Patrick Turner, Reverend Wilf Mannion and herself were on the Parish council. Not one of them had ever needed to canvas for a vote when it was time for re-election, as they were well respected and supported fully by the constituency. They all stood Independently, so there weren't any hard party lines dividing them. None of them were interested in who sat in 10 Downing Street, as whoever it was, wouldn't have Poplar in their heart, like these three did.

The Matron was devastated when Wilf died. They had been good friends and allies and even foes at times. She had helped Bernie care for him at home in the Manse. She could see the young woman was at some sort of crossroads in her life and it was Phyllis who persuaded Bernie to stay on. Encouraging her to keep the church going, until Wilf's replacement arrived. When it was clear that there wouldn't be any full time work for Bernie within the church, Phyllis had offered her a job working for her. She funded and facilitated Bernie's training and provided a car hire scheme. She also gave this somewhat lost soul a room in her cottage, when the Mannion family home became the home of another.

Innkeeper and carer finished their tea discussing in turn, Paddy's expected regulars and Bernie's scheduled visits, discovering some villagers they would both serve. Then Paddy watched Bernie Mannion get into her abandoned little white Ford Ka, standing solitary in the small pub car park. His thoughts started to wander,

She really suits those smart blue uniforms Phyll has chosen. They compliment the striking blue of her eyes, so much more obvious today not hidden beneath her glasses. She must be trying the contact lenses out again, he mused.

Not that he minded the specs, they were almost her signature look, the light reflecting off the glass making her eyes look wider and brighter. Her honey blonde hair that looked more auburn in the morning light was swept up in a neat clip, instead of her more casual look, unfussy just resting on her shoulders. A navy waspy belt clung jealousy to her tiny waist, matching the dark stockings. Or more than likely they will be tights, that would be more practical, Paddy thought.

"Er Mr T, erm do you want me to start filling the salt sellers and clean-up the sauce bottles?" Paddy jumped. He hadn't heard Jack come in from the kitchen entrance.

Oh god, had he seen me staring at Bernie Mannion's legs, what if he tells Tim? My son would be grossed out. How old is Bernie - a little over 30?

But Jack didn't look horrified or even amused, just bored and awkward, like he did most of the time. Paddy nodded and Jack shuffled off to fetch the wet-wipes.