(Please make sure you dont miss chapter 29, Peelings. It's only little but its there)

Joan finished basting the chicken, and carefully closed the oven door. The hinges were notoriously tricky and she didn't want to add to the day's catastrophes by breaking her cooker when she had three guests to feed. Glancing at the clock, she pondered her next move. Supper would be ready within half an hour but lord knows, under the current circumstances, which of her guests would actually be joining her for the meal.

Pacifying the atmosphere in her home while still acting hospitably to Martin's girlfriend, however unpleasant she might be, was going to be tricky, Joan pondered, as she went towards the stairs. Once she had located the train timetable, and sent Louisa off to give it to Martin, she had hoped that he might take up the hint quickly and make decisive moves to send their unwanted guest straight back to London. With her tail between her legs, and as an ex-girlfriend, she hoped rather unkindly before setting her jaw and grasping the balustrade with purpose.

At the door to Martin's room, she tapped cautiously.

"Edith." She said, trying not to sound too gruff. "It's, aah, Joan."

The sound of human activity was suddenly detectable from inside the bedroom.

"Hang on a mo." She heard indistinctly, followed by a loud thump.

"Just finding something to put on." Edith added, a little more clearly and Joan shook her head, letting out an imperceptible groan.

After a moment, the door opened and Joan found herself aghast and fighting her reaction to recoil in horror as Edith stood before her in a short, diaphanous gown which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Joan, who was no prude, found herself actually shocked. The outfit itself was inappropriate enough for a guest in the home of a stranger, never mind that it was broad daylight outside, however Joan's abhorrence stemmed mainly from the brazen stance taken by Edith as she stood in the doorway. Like some kind of profligate courtesan, she leaned on the door frame, smirking; her eyes glinting provocatively.

Absolutely shameless, Joan thought with disgust, and wondered with some alarm just what exactly Marty had entangled himself with. From where Joan was standing, the answer was A Trollop Of The First Order, and, as far as she was concerned, the gloves were now well and truly off.

"I, aah, I just wanted to make sure you were alright." Joan said, doing her best to keep her tone reasonable. "Supper is nearly ready. Will you be joining us?"

Edith cocked her head to one side.

"Of course." She replied, seemingly a little surprised that there was any question on the matter.

Skin like a rhinoceros, Joan thought.

"Would you like a cup of tea? I could bring it up here if you'd prefer?" She said, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

"Just hot water." Edith replied. "And I will come down."

"Right." Joan said coldly, and turned away.

"I'll just throw something else on." Edith called after her. "Wouldn't want Ellingham to lose his self-restraint in public, would we?" And the tinkling peel of laughter that followed made his aunt's veins run cold with loathing.

She appeared downstairs, moments later, more appropriately attired and, seemingly, with all her smugness and conceit restored to their previously elevated levels. She sat down at the table, crossed her legs demurely, and waited for Joan to bring the refreshments, displaying a smirk as wide as the barn doors. The only thing wider was the gulf between them, Joan thought, as she avoided the desire to slam the cup down, unceremoniously, in front of her.

"Marty tells me you plan to specialise in gynaecology?" Joan said, as pleasantly as she could, easing herself slowly in to the chair next to her.

"I do indeed." Edith replied. "It's a very lucrative field."

"Really?" Joan asked, somewhat taken aback.

"People seem to be intent on reproducing." Edith said, with more than a hint of derision. "And the desperate ones that can't, seem to have very deep pockets when it comes to their desire to inflict their ghastly progeny on the world."

Joan stifled a gasp, unable to quite believe her ears, before reminding herself that she was playing chess, not noughts and crosses. She composed herself, and swallowed hard before she spoke again.

"You don't want children then, Edith?" She managed to ask with some semblance of sweetness.

Edith laughed coldly.

"God, no!" She replied vehemently. "Of course Ellingham is so conventional, he wants to get married but I've always made it very clear that I've no intention of being a breeder. And, as I've always told him, he would be an appalling father. Can you imagine?" She laughed again and shook her head.

"I see." Was all his aunt could say in response, as the lump in her throat threatened to choke her. She watched the dust swirl in the shafts of afternoon sunlight that now poured through the windows, and her heart hurt. However her beloved Marty had become embroiled with this despicable human being, and despite her suggestion of the prospect of marriage, Joan was absolutely determined to see Edith off the premises and, if she could find the opportunity to talk to him seriously, out of her nephews life, hopefully, for good.

Joan paused for a second and then folded her hands in front of her on the table.

"I think it actually may be quite opportune that you are here, Edith. I was going to ask Marty, but since it seems, ah, more in your line of expertise perhaps you should do it. After church tomorrow, which I hope you will join me at by the way, the ladies of the Women's Institute will be here for lunch. And we could use a guest speaker...there are a lot of unanswered questions...concerns...and with the local GP being a man, and the ladies not getting out much, well, we could all do with some advice on sexual issues for post menopausal women?"

Joan paused, taking sly delight in the transformation of Edith's face from smug self approval to unmitigated disgust. Her instincts had lead her directly to Edith's soft underbelly.

"What do you think?" Joan continued with some relish "Maybe touch on unwanted hair removal, HRT and brittle bones, since we all seem to be snapping like twigs at the moment. And, well, some of the ladies have issues with, well you know, dryness in that department. There's bound to be lots of questions...And we probably need to mention incontinence because that's bound to come up too. It would only take a couple of hours of your time..."

Edith stared at her in horror.

"Leave here for church just after eight o'clock, back here by eleven and then, maybe three hours for lunch and your talk?" Joan said, smiling with encouragement. "It would be all over by three. Probably."

The colour had drained from Edith's face. The thought of having to sit through a church service was appalling enough, but just who did Ellingham's aunt think she was, expecting her sit and listen to a gaggle of crusty old biddies discuss their libidos, their bladder issues, and the strange and disturbing places they were now sprouting hair. Her stomach turned over in disgust.

"I hate to disappoint you, Jill, but I plan on returning to London in the morning." She replied with a mirthless smile. "But I'm sure Ellingham would just be delighted to share his expertise. It sounds just like his idea of a good time."

Joan paused, not wanting to appear too eager to accept Edith's notice of imminent departure. She looked over at the younger woman's face and was delighted to see her eyes darting around nervously, anxious to remove herself from Havenhouse Farm, Port Wenn and, indeed, Cornwall, as soon as she was physically able.

Behind her, the back door swung open and the tall, stooping figure of her alleged fiancée, slunk cautiously into the room. When he saw them he paused uncomfortably and Joan again saw the fear in his eyes.

She smiled at him broadly.

"Marty, can you pass me that timetable please?" she said, now unable to hide the glee in her voice. "I just need to check the Sunday morning departures."