The cottage’s thatch roof looks serviceable from what he can make out in the rising moon, his eyes better than most a’night. He peers through the cottage window, where a cheery fire could be seen blazing in a snug parlour within. Having heard his coach’s return, the lady of the house has opened the front door, standing straight, tall and slim, framed dark and featureless with the light behind her in her doorway, surrounded by climbing roses in full late summer bloom. Well, he thinks, here’s a promised welcome, so why not stay here?“Welcome, my Lord Chief Justice,” she says in a soft warm gentlewomanly voice, cultured, but with a charming hint of the Sussex burr which had otherwise sounded so alien and coarse on the lips of the Manor Hall’s housekeeper. She stands aside and, with a gesture in the form of a low waving hand, welcomes him into her home, then waving high to the coachmen to enter the kitchen around the side of the cottage. “Come to the back door when you are ready to eat,”. “Ashok is away on work for a while and I’m bored so I thought I would invite you for tea.” she said. Roopa was happily married and aside from the occasional bout of harmless flirting she never gave the slightest indication of having any interest in me. “Sure,” I said, “come on in.” “I can’t, Pinky’s asleep in bed and I don’t want to leave her unattended. Come down to my apartment. My husband has some imported liquors too if you are interested.” A drink is a drink as far as I’m concerned and so I closed the front door behind me and followed Roopa to her apartment, three doors down from my own. Actually she didn’t need alcohol to get me to follow her, I’d follow an arse like that through the gates of hell. We walked into her place where she gave me a can of imported beer and pointed to the couch. “i’ll get glasses for the scotch,” she said as she walked into the kitchen. She reached up to the cupboard above the counter causing her t-shirt to tighten and reveal the shape of her full.
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