I'll be taking a short break from posting new chapters because we're heading out on a road trip from New York to South Carolina to see the solar eclipse here in the U.S.A. In the meantime, I looove to get reviews so please be kind and say what's on your mind. Stella D.

Chapter 10: Opportunity Knocks

Thursday

Pauline walked up Roscarrock Hill to work the next morning. The rubbish bin was set out for pickup on the stone terrace but it had been knocked over and a bag torn open, potato and carrot peelings scattered about. He won't be pleased about that, she thought.

She went in the front door, went to her desk, and started up the computer. "Doc," she called out. "Bit of a mess out front."

He strode out from his office. "What are you talking about?"

"Someone or something has got into your rubbish. Remains of last night's supper spread all over. "

They went out to the terrace. "That damn dog must have done it," the Doc snapped.

"Don't think so. I've never seen him mess with the bin before. Besides, he hasn't been around lately," Pauline replied.

As she spoke, a dark shape swooped down, grabbed a fish head, and soared away. "There's your culprit," she said.

"Disgusting bird. It's been hanging about for days now. Someone should shoot it."

"You can't do that, they're a protected species. Anyway, I imagine you wouldn't like having guns about, after… you know."

The Doc grunted and the scowl on his face deepened. "How do I get rid of it, then?"

"Wooden owl," Pauline replied. "You set it up on the roof or on a pole. The gulls think it's real, scares them away."

The Doc looked sceptical. He took some latex gloves from his pocket, pulled them on, and began to clean up the rubbish.

"Bert has one. I'll borrow it at lunchtime, I'm sure he won't mind," Pauline said. "Come on, you've got a full schedule this morning. Here comes my Mum now, wanting to see you about her lumbago."

The reception filled up quickly. Mum complained she had trouble getting here to see the Doc, what with the film crew blocking the way in the Platt this morning.

"Did you see Wynnie Barlow?" asked Pauline.

"Not a sign of her," Mum replied.

"My Jeff said he saw her standing by the bus stop," said Mrs. Poustie.

"Wynnie Barlow? At a bus stop? She hasn't used public transport since her sex tape went viral," said Mrs. Montrose.

"That wasn't Wynnie Barlow, she never had a sex tape," Pauline said.

"And that Jago Powell, I heard he was here visiting last year and got stopped for drink driving along the cliff road," Mrs. Montrose continued. "Now he's a pretty boy actor, he thinks the rules don't apply to him."

"The charge was dropped. The breathalyser test proved he wasn't drinking. Jago Powell has been on the wagon for five years now." Pauline patiently continued refuting the elderly woman. "Isn't it great, this filming. Just what the village needed."

"Yeah. Load of namby pambies putting on makeup and slowing up the traffic, that's certainly the missing piece in the jigsaw of our lives," retorted Mum.

"I could have been an actress," Pauline sighed.

"Well, you're certainly needy and insecure enough to be one, yeah. If only you had the looks," Mum said.

"Now Dawn, no need for that," said Mrs. Poustie. "Pauline, you look lovely. Any film would be lucky to have you."

"Well, they might want to have you. They've got casting people coming into the Village Hall on Saturday, looking for extras," said Mrs. Montrose. "They need people who look authentic Cornish to fill out the background in crowd scenes. No experience necessary."

"Go on, where did you hear that?" Pauline was intrigued.

"It's posted at the Village Hall. Show up with a photo of yourself, 10 o'clock in the morning."

"Pauline!" The Doc poked his head into the room. "I've been calling for the next patient. Pay attention!"

"Oh uh, right, Doc, here's her notes. Go on in, Mrs. Poustie."

oOo

Pauline knocked at the Large house. The door was ajar, so she pushed it and leaned in. "Bert, you there?"

"Come on in, girl, I'm just about to heat up leftovers of my homemade shepherd's pie. Al will be along in a second."

"I came to borrow your fake owl, the Doc has a gull problem. But I'd love some shepherd's pie. Bert, you are quite the cook."

"The ladies love a man who's handy in the kitchen," said Bert. "I keep tellin' Al that, but the poor boy is hopeless around a cooker."

Bert dug the owl out of a closet and set it on the table where it glared at them as they sat down for lunch. Just then Al came in through the door. "Pauline, didn't expect you here today," he said, clearly glad to see her. "Sorry I'm late, I went out to Gaverne Farm to replace their pipes and I couldn't get the van back through the village. The roads are backed up today with the filmin'. Had to park up the hill and walk home." He wasn't too pleased about that.

"Did you see the movie people?" Pauline was excited. "I heard they're auditioning extras down at the Village Hall Saturday morning."

"You don't say," Bert was intrigued. "I reckon they'll be lookin' for honest Cornish faces, not those Hollywood pretty people with their faces full of Botox. This could be the start of something big. There's plenty of movies and shows that film in Cornwall. They'll all be needin' local faces."

"And you don't even need any experience," Pauline chimed in.

"I've got some time as a thespian under my belt," Bert said. "I played Falstaff in The Merry Wives of Windsor back in school, and that was the lead role. So I'm a step ahead of them as has no experience at all."

"Bert, you'd be a natural," Pauline said.

"And you Pauline are a natural beauty. The camera will love you," Bert replied. "That settles it. Saturday mornin' we're headin' down there to try our luck." He struck a dramatic pose. "Indeed, I am in the waist two yards about; but I am now about no waste; I am about thrift."

"Er, Dad?"

"Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford's wife: I spy entertainment in her; she discourses, she carves, she gives the leer of invitation."

"Dad?"

"I can construe the action of her familiar style; and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be Englished rightly, is, 'I am Sir John Falstaff's.'"

"Dad! We got jobs we need to take care of Saturday," Al pointed out. "We're replacin' the drain trap for Pat Anselm, emptyin' the septic tank at Bray Farm, and you never finished fixin' Joan Norton's upstairs toilet, she's been complainin' about that."

"Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud, boy," Bert said. "Opportunity's knockin' at the door. I have complete confidence in your ability to handle everythin' while your old man and your girlfriend answer it."

To be continued…