Maxine escaped the hustle and bustle of the conference centre before anyone else could congratulate her on the rambling speech that she’d just given. She felt exhausted from the ordeal and was just glad that it was all over.

[At a Conference Centre in Birmingham (UK)]

“Ready for your big day?” asked Garth Samson.
He was waiting to be called onto the stage to deliver the keynote speech of the conference.
Their friend, Sally Jameson had organised the event for the Foundation that Garth had set up almost a year earlier. This was their first big event since the launch of the enterprise.

[Authors Note]
The events described in this part take place after Maxine’s trip to Devon. She had been there on a Spa retreat with her friend Delphine and Delphine’s step-daughter Gabrielle. This is all described in part 24 of 'Sixty is not that Old'.
https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/89023/sixty-is-not-th...

Some people say, 'the best-laid plans etc' often come to nothing. That was what happened to our intention to get our hair and nails done before our date with my father. Instead of a new hairstyle, we had to settle for a new outfit apiece.

The next morning and all dressed up in our new glad rags, we took an earlyish morning train from Leeds to Harrogate. This was well before the allotted time for my encounter and gave us a chance to wander around the town. I’d never appreciated the architecture of the town before but it was quite impressive. Most of the town had escaped the ravages of the 1960’s concrete brutalism that passed for good design at the time. This was a marked contrast to many of our towns and cities.

Two days after arriving back on the outskirts of Preston, I began my journey south to Oxford and the wedding. It all began with a taxi ride from where Roxy was moored, into Preston and then two trains. The first took me to Wolverhampton and the second to Oxford. The ticket inspector on the train from Preston kindly suggested that I change trains either at Wolverhampton or Birmingham International rather than at Birmingham New St. Little tips like this make travelling a whole lot easier and for that, I was very thankful.

Carla was very good at helping with the locks but it was clear to me from her continued absent-mindedness, that her thoughts were very much on other things namely, the meeting to discuss a settlement with her case. Her promised surprise for the weekend never materialised but I didn't push it. I was there for her whenever she might need me.

Roxy and I reached the end of the ‘Coventry Canal’ just before midday. Sadly, the meal I’d eaten at the pub the previous night had run right through me. The result was that my toilet needed pumping out. It was either that or declare my cabin a no-go area for another few days. Luckily for me, there was a set of discharge facilities close to the end of the canal.

[Saturday Evening at the Gallery in London]

“Things are going well,” commented the owner of the Gallery, Jonathan Fields.
“About half of your paintings are already sold or reserved and we are only an hour into the event.”

“I saw you busy with the blue stickers,” I replied with a small smile on my face.

“There is a good crowd in tonight. You are getting a good reputation, my friend.”

“The promise of free food and booze gets a lot of people interested,” I said slightly sarcastically.

“’I was thinking last night,” said Melody as we ate an early Breakfast.

“You seem to know an awful lot about business for someone who says that they don’t want to be involved in it?”

She’d got me bang to rights there. Melody was proving to be a very astute person indeed.

With Roxy undergoing some expensive repairs and updates, I took the opportunity to complete the remaining five canvasses for my forthcoming show. For the first few days, Melody seemed at a loss for something to do. Her fidgeting began to get under my skin so I suggested that she went into Oxford on the bus and did some people watching.

I really didn’t want to get out of bed the following morning. The hotel bed was so comfortable when compared to its counterpart on Roxy. I rolled over and switched on the radio. The 06:00 news was just finishing. That meant that I had plenty of time to get up in a controlled fashion rather than my normal wake up and get out of bed. I normally reserved my few ‘lounging in bed’ times to when I was in a Hotel but I had to be out of the Hotel and back onboard Roxy before sunrise if we were going to get to Brentford by sunset.

Now that I had finally decided not to stand for re-election in November, I got to thinking about other things but primarily Kelly, getting married and then what?

The ‘then what’ part was easy. A big grand-canyon shaped abyss. I had no firm idea what I was going to do once I was no longer Sheriff. My fall back was to work with Danny SWA. He was always advertising for rescue drivers so there was a job for me if I wanted it but something inside of me was telling me that something else would come up when the time came.

Christmas came and went in a flash. The county workers did a sterling job in keeping the main roads clear of the snow that started falling on Christmas Eve and didn’t give up until the 27th.
The snowploughs had kept the interstate just about passable but thankfully most folk who had to travel had taken heed of the weather warnings and had completed their journeys well before the storm hit us.

Monday came around far too quickly for everyone. The previous evening Michel had taken Delphine out for a quiet meal at a Restaurant in Ashburton. Despite his best intentions, it had failed to lift her spirits.

“Last meal of the condemned?” muttered Delphine as she played with her desert.

“Stop talking like that or…!”

“Or what?”

Michel was sitting in the Kitchen of the Cottage when Delphine returned from Totnes.

“Did she get the train ok?”

“Yes. We had plenty of time. In fact, we need not have rushed so much because it was five minutes late,” replied Delphine.

“This letter was in the post yesterday,” he said holding a letter.
"Oh sorry. There was one addressed to you. I clean forgot about them all what with being Verity here."
Michel handed her the letter.

Vivienne spoke at length on the phone with her lawyer, Verity May later that day. After some discussion of the downsides to the plan to change their names, Verity agreed with what Jacques had outlined. Their previously planned meeting for Monday was still going to take place but at her offices. That way, anyone watching her offices will see nothing out of the ordinary other than a client visiting their lawyer. Verity called it ‘scheming in plain sight’.

Verity had promised to have all the documents that Vivienne had requested ready for their signatures apart from a few missing details that would be filled in on the day.

The three-and-a-half-hour journey from Totnes to Portsmouth allowed the two women to begin the process of getting to know each other.

At first, Gabrielle was a little defensive towards her father.

Then Vivienne said,
"As I said when we were back in Totnes, I've just sold my home in London. In a few weeks, I will have the equivalent of more than three million Euro in my bank. I'm not after any money that Jacques may or may not have but this is not about that."

The arrival of the supposed ‘Downsizing Experts’ the following day proved to be rather an anti-climax. They talked the talk but didn’t really persuade Vivienne that the services that they offered were what she really needed.

Their estimates of the costs for their services based upon their inspection of her home and garden made Vivienne gasp with surprise.

“That is an awful lot. It seems rather excessive,” she said to one of the three companies.

Once Vivienne had gotten over feeling so foolish, a silly old woman and a dozen other even more derogatory things she suddenly felt a little lost. This sort of thing was all new to her. Back in London, her life had been framed by routine. Walk Betty, go to work, come home, walk Betty and go to bed. Rinse and repeat every day with a slight variation at the weekend.

Standing there with nature alive all around her made her realise that she was very much out of her comfort zone.

Vivienne met with Verity late the next day at her offices on Victoria Street. They’d been at Boarding School together and had become firm friends when they both got struck down with Measles at the same time. Being the sole occupants of a Boarding School Sick-bay over the Easter holidays was no fun so they’d gotten up to all sorts of mischief together. That bond had lasted until Vivienne had gotten married. Verity had been her Maid of Honour at her wedding to Rex.