Chapter 3

Marilyn stood back to let me enter. I walked a little like a zombie who had just been zapped by the alien's Death Ray. She giggled.

"Well I have never had that reaction before. That's a first for me." The smile left her face to be replaced with a flinty expression. "Why didn't you write to me? I sent you letter after letter and you never bothered to reply after a while." What do I say? We were young. Absence makes the heart grow fonder is the old saying, but when you are young out of sight, out of mind rules your emotions. I said the only thing I could.

"I ... I'm sorry."

"I should think so." Then her face softened and the smile returned.

"It's nice to see you again, Dalzeil." I was actually pleased to see her again. The puppy fat had long gone and the slim figure she presented now was very attractive. Her hair could no longer be called mousy it had become that expensive, lovely shade that they call honey blonde. The smile was still the same, and just as welcoming as before.

"Despite the shock, and now I have got over my mini heart-attack, it's good to see you again." Something puzzled me though. "Did you know it was me that was coming?" She nodded.

"Yes, well sort of. When you phoned you told me your name. Now there aren't too many men in this country called Dalzeil Gorton, so I half expected that it was you who would turn up. I was watching from upstairs, and when you got out of the car I was certain. I must say it gave me a funny feeling and Butterflies in my stomach to see you after all these years."

"Not half as much as me when you said hello Dalzeil. You could have said something on the phone." She grinned.

"I wasn't sure at the time. Anyway you were so business-like and there was no way you would associate Mrs. Wilman with the Marilyn you knew all those years ago. Because I wasn't certain I said nothing rather than make a fool of myself." I nodded. It would have been a confused conversation over the phone. "Would you like a coffee?" She asked. I certainly would.

"Strong one please, Marilyn a little milk and one sugar. I need to get my heart beating again." She walked through the lobby to a breakfast room that looked out over the fields towards Dartmoor.

"Grab a seat, the coffees made, I'll bring it through." I took a seat on one side of the table. It looked as if it was hewn out of one huge log about five hundred years ago, and those years of polishing had given it a patina that could never be reproduced with modern methods. Marilyn came back with a cafetiere of freshly brewed coffee, cups, saucers, milk, sugar and a plate of shortbread biscuits. She poured the coffee and passed the cup over to me, then sat down on the side of the table adjacent to me. She raised her cup and looked at me over the rim.

"I can't really believe that we have met again. How many years is it? It must be getting on for twenty."

"Nineteen." I answered. "It was nineteen fifty-seven."

"Fancy, you remembered that but you didn't remember to write to me. You broke my heart." She was smiling.

"I don't think so, you're still here." I quipped and then changed the subject. "Does your dad still have the hotel?"

"Oh no he sold it when he retired years ago. Got a good price for it too and he bought this place."

"It's rather impressive, quite palatial." I commented.

"I like it. He left it to me when he died. I have been here ever since."

"So tell me about you?" I asked. "As Mrs. Wilman you obviously have a husband, any children?"

"Yes I had a husband. Richard. He died in a car crash three years ago."

"Oh I am sorry."

"No don't be. I am well over it now, and to tell the truth he was never much of a husband. I would have liked children, but in retrospect it was better this way. Richard would have been a terrible father. He was more interested in my money, than me."

"That I find hard to believe." Marilyn's face lit up with a smile.

"Thank you. What about you?" I finished my coffee before I replied. Marilyn refilled my cup.

"I was married, but her mother thought I would never amount to much, so put lots of pressure on Jane to dump me, which she eventually did. I have a daughter, Sarah, she lives with her mother. She comes to me every other weekend. I have been single ever since, thankfully."

"Oh that's good. A girl needs her father when she is growing up, but why thankfully?"

"My job involved a great deal of travel. I was off to Australia, India, and the States and so on. It would have been difficult for a wife, being left alone to cope during the weeks when I was away." She looked envious.

"God that is fantastic. Lucky you."

"Yes it was great, but it was hard work."

"What did you do?"

"I visited our fabric suppliers to make sure that their quality control met our standards."

"Are you still doing that?"

"No. One of the directors decided that he should do that job. I run the technical side, rejecting the fabric that is not up to standard."

"So you must know a lot about fabrics?"

"Some. My M.D. thinks I do, but I have to wing it a little at times." She laughed.

"And you have come here to look at my complaint. Are you sure you can decide what the problem is?" I laughed with her.