VCN 2

I had been on a long train journey, to the South-West of England. On the station platform I bumped into a young woman, who I used to know from my creative writing education in Buxton. She was bedraggled and bereft; half-dressed, penniless, and in debt. She wanted to borrow money, and asked if I could take her with me.

We were in a large rectangular room, newly refurbished, in a modern style. One of my sons was there, I'm not sure which one. The house was on Dartmoor, at Shaugh Prior, a village I boarded in for a short while, but that was a good many years ago.

I realised that I hadn't made a booking (I used to have the flat next door apparently). I was pulling up my trousers when the lady of the house came in, the young woman from Buxton was laid half-naked on the floor.

I asked if it was ok to stay for a few days, I had a meeting to attend, and staying over seemed to be the only option down here. That's fine she said, and asked me if I'd posted her booklet; she said she was relying on me, since the old service had ended.

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