Part 4
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"Me? There's nothing to tell," Donna modestly blustered. "I'm not that interesting. Now you, you are far more worth talking about. Where did all that science stuff come from? Not off a packet of seeds, that's for sure."
John grinned proudly. "I have degrees in applied physics and mechanical engineering."
"Oh wow!" she gasped, clearly impressed. "Why aren't you doing that instead of driving a tractor?"
It was obviously a topic that pained him. "I would have gone further but Dad needed me home, so home I came. The sheep don't worry much about such things. But I keep my hand in, by doing a spot of training down at the local college; and it helps supplement my income on the farm. Hill farming isn't exactly a great payer these days."
"I'm sorry," she sympathised, and took the chance to lay a hand on top of his; enjoying the gentle squeeze it elicited. Any second now those lips would be hers.
Their evening together abruptly ended as soon as Jocasta arrived back at the table. "Time to leave, I think, Donna dear," she requested.
With many promises to contact each other soon, John found himself standing alone, watching Donna go.
"Hiya buddy!" a loud American voice accompanied a slap on the back.
"Jack! How are you? What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Mildenhall," John cried out in delight when he turned to view whoever it was.
"I'm well, thanks; just passing through, on the way to considering a new position." Jack warmly greeted him and they briefly hugged. "It's been too long since I saw you. How are the folks?"
"Fine; they're just fine." John couldn't stop grinning at his friend. "Where are you staying?"
"With Martha, of course." Jack then waved his finger towards the pub doors. "Who was the little redhead I saw you with as I came in?" he asked inquisitively.
"Oh…, that was Donna. My new friend Donna. I invited her here for a drink… a welcoming drink to the village," John bashfully answered.
"I see," Jack replied, already guessing where his friend's thoughts were going on this issue. "What's she going to do around here?" He didn't want to offend his friend but the place didn't have many attractions to lure newcomers.
"Her agency sent her here, to work for a local writer, would you believe," John said as he tried to repress his glee.
"Agency?" Jack repeated in horror. "Oh no! I thought I'd cancelled that."
This suddenly sounded potentially bad. "What have you got to do with Donna working for an agency?" John inevitably asked in his confusion.
Jack looked around them to check no one was attempting to listen to their conversation before wrapping an arm around John's shoulders and whispering, "I have a small confession."
"Jack! What did you do?" John cried out in warning.
There was no going back now, so Jack had to tell the truth. "I don't know how to tell you this, but we thought it would be fun to arrange for a girl to come and entertain you."
"A girl, as in an escort agency type of girl?" John sought to confirm. His soul was already trying to escape from its confines with a downward journey through his socks.
Trying to console his friend, Jack cheerily answered, "No big deal, Doctor! It was just an idea to get you out of a rut. For what it's worth, Martha thought it was a stupid idea and tried to talk us out of it."
"Well, she would," John commented, deep in thought. "So Donna was only being nice to me because…"
Jack slapped him on the back again. "You have a lot of redeeming qualities that I'm sure any woman would appreciate."
"But not without being paid first," John forlornly stated. "Listen Jack, do you mind if we do this catch up later? I have to get home. I need an early night; busy day tomorrow."
"Sure!" Jack smiled warmly at him. "You still lecturing up at the college?"
"Yes, three nights a week," John said distractedly as he stood gazing blankly at the place he'd been talking to Donna. "Will you still be here on Friday?"
"Until Sunday afternoon, so don't go running off now," Jack playful threatened.
"I'll see you Friday then," John replied as he bade him farewell. He couldn't wait to get out of the pub and examine his thoughts.
Donna... A prostitute? Really?! It still didn't seem right. And what did that make Jocasta? A madam, peddling love; and apparently making a living writing about it. Unless that was a pseudonym for what she did? She certainly wasn't what he would have expected a sex worker to look like. Nor was Donna, come to that. Was he some huge idiot for falling for a high class tart like this? With a surge of fury, he repeatedly thumped his steering wheel hard as he drove along, and resolved to personally ask her outright at the first opportunity.
"That you, John?" his mother called out when the front door was slammed shut. "Did your meet up go alright?"
John appeared before her, looking very downhearted. "It was okay," he muttered and then plonked himself down on a seat by her side.
"That good, eh," she commented as he continued to angrily pout whilst pretending to watch the television. This needed more careful handling; he'd been so full of excited anticipation before he went out for the evening. "Did she turn up, as you'd hoped?"
He slunk further into his seat and rested his head on his hand. "Yes, she was there."
This was beginning to feel like twenty questions. "Was she there with someone else?"
"Sort of," he glumly supplied. "She brought her employer with her; Jocasta, the woman that lives in Lilac Cottage."
"Oh, her!" his mum exclaimed. "Jocasta Newberry. She seems okay though a bit posh and full of herself." In fact she knew her a bit better than that, but she wanted to sound suitably vague about the situation.
"That's her," John confirmed, and glanced at where his dad was slumped over asleep in his favourite armchair. "Mum, don't tell Dad this, but... I feel like such an idiot right now."
"Why's that, pet?" she sympathised.
"Because I met this beautiful woman, and for a moment I thought she was really interested in me," he sighed.
"What did she do to make you think she wasn't?" his mother wondered. "Did she go after another man?"
His face instantly fell further, if that was at all possible. "Nothing like that," he dismissed. "She only left to take that Jocasta home. We had been sitting, talking and drinking... and things." A wistful smile appeared on his face as he recalled their time together. "We even arranged to meet by Friday night if we couldn't synch diaries before then."
"Sounds like she hated you on sight," his mother commented sarcastically. "So what's so terrible about all that? You've had far worse in the past."
"I just don't think I have enough for her tastes," he lamely argued.
There was a snort of scorn. "What do you expect her tastes to be? Hitchhiking around the galaxy or something?"
"Mum!" he admonished. "I'm just saying that me being a farmer might not be enough for her."
This seemed highly unlikely. "Did she know about our farm before you met her tonight?"
He reluctantly answered, "Well... Yeah; she saw me driving the tractor."
The penny dropped then, and Verity Smith knew her son was talking about the woman that had made such an impression on him lunchtime. "John, just talk to her, please, before you go jumping to conclusions," she softly begged him. "There aren't many reasons why she would have sought you out."
Little did she know that that wasn't the massive comfort it should have been.
"Okay," he promised, and instantly stood up; oozing disappointment. "I'm off to bed. Good night, Mum."
"Night, pet," she called out as he despondently slouched off. It was her concern for him that made her vow to contact Jocasta Newberry as soon as possible and find out what might have gone wrong. Who said mums shouldn't interfere?
"Ferrets?! You want me to research ferrets?" Donna sought to confirm as she sat at her new desk awaiting orders on her first proper day of employment.
"Yes please, dear," Jocasta nonchalantly replied and went back to reading the morning post.
"But... I was expecting to look up some battle or other. Why ferrets?" Donna asked, completely confused. "I assume you saw someone in the pub and saw 'ferrets' written all over them or something."
Jocasta looked up from the invoice in her hands. "Yes, something like that, my dear."
"You're not thinking of John, are you?" Donna's shocked tones were all too evident. "How can you look at him and think that, for goodness sake?!"
"Donna, one must never question one's muse," Jocasta tritely retorted.
With a resigned sigh, Donna brought up Google on her computer. "If you end up by writing a story that makes me into some sort of Vera Duckworth I'll kill you; more than likely with one of my Northern clogs," she muttered under her breath. "I'd get away with it too; extenuating circumstances and all that."
Jocasta merely chuckled to herself as the next plot twist whirled in her mind.
It had been almost three days since Donna had seen John, and the telephone hadn't rung once due to him calling. Her spirits were seriously flagging. Jocasta was beginning to get more than a little worried about her new friend and John… their promising romance was going west. "Still no word from him?"
"Who?" Donna tried to nonchalantly reply to her employer. She had no intention of admitting anything; especially how hurt she was that John Smith wasn't interested in the slightest in her after all. His first impression of her must have far outweighed his second and it was true, yet again, that she couldn't hold a man's interest. Her mother was completely right.
The downward mood swing was, however, noticed and filed away for future usage.
"Donna, dear, I need you to run a little errand for me," Jocasta began to request. "The book you've just typed up, I want one of my friends from the reading circle to look it over before I send it off to Stoddard Press. Do you think you could print a copy and take it over to her? I'd give you the remainder of the day off..."
If that wasn't a bribe, Donna didn't know what was! "Alright! I'll take a copy over to your mate's. Where has it got to go?"
"It's just a few miles outside the village; a little place called Hollow Farm. I'm told it's very hard to miss it," Jocasta encouraged her to go.
"I'd better get printing then," Donna commented, more to herself than anything. "Farm, did you say? Hmm. Have you got any Wellington boots I can borrow?"
"I keep my gumboots in the back porch. Why?" Jocasta openly wondered.
"Mud," Donna replied, "there's bound to be plenty of bloody mud, knowing the way my luck is going."
With that, she marched off, leaving Jocasta wondering if things would actually go in her favour.
John slouched out of the lounge and aimed for the kitchen door. "I'm just going to head up to the top field before getting back to that engine," he called out to his mother, and was surprised when she hastily rushed over to stop him disappearing out of the door.
"John, pet, do you think you could leave the engine for today? Your dad wanted a quick word," she told him.
"He did? Why didn't Dad say something at breakfast before he left? I'll see him in the top field anyway, so he can tell me there," John argued, and turned to go.
"Don't!" she insisted, and grabbed his arm. "You know how forgetful he is these days."
He sighed in agreement. "True; but he's already told me about our Ricky so what else is there to say?"
"Just come back and get cleaned up, please," she begged. "Take the time to get some of your paperwork sorted out or something, anything, but don't touch that engine until later."
"What are you up to?" he wondered suspiciously. "You'd better not have volunteered me for the Christmas play or something."
"Nothing like that," she quickly answered.
"But there is something going on," he pondered thoughtfully. "All I want to know is: will I be pleased?"
She beamed back at him in relief, knowing he'd make an effort now, just for her. "I hope so."
"Alright, I'll tackle some of my paperwork when I get back. Won't be long." And with that, he kissed her cheek and headed out the door.
Verity smiled to herself and got back to preparing her Christmas puddings.