Dedication
This story might never have happened if it weren't for the help and encouragement of Miss Worthing's biggest fan. At each stage of the process I was never let off the hook, I was cajoled, encouraged, bullied, pushed and pulled until this story became the best it could be. Many of the plot twists were suggestions and, in a very real sense, this story is a co-write.
As such it is gratefully dedicate to a very good friend with my profound thanks.
LJ
* * * * *
Jim lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was mid June and he'd been home from university for over a week and, apart from IMing his friends online or playing games on his computer he had hardly done anything, let alone stirred from his bedroom. His mum was getting increasingly crabby about him 'getting under her feet' and, above all, he was broke. When she called up the stairs asking him to go to the village store he nearly refused but, there was something in her tone which got him out of bed and off down the road.
The village store was a combination of a post office and convenience store with groceries at the front and a small counter at the rear. He wandered in and went to the cooler cabinet to pick up a litre of milk but, when he got to the counter, he found he was behind Mrs Higgins who, having cashed her pension was now doing a little shopping and was taking her time, discussing all the village gossip whilst she unloaded her basket, item by item. Jim knew better than to make a fuss so he waited patiently in line and, as he did so, his eyes strayed to the notice board. There, prominently displayed, was a card which read:-
Help Required
Stable Girl/Boy needed during summer holiday period
Pay on application
Phone Miss Worthing on xxxxx xxxxxx or apply in person at New Farm stables
The more Jim stared at the notice board the more he fancied the job. He really needed to do something and the only other work for summer casuals was processing chickens in the local factory, a much less than appealing prospect. He'd much rather be out and about than stuck inside and, although the stables tended to be full of spoilt little rich girls, it would get him out of the house, stop his mum from nagging, and, above all, put a bit of money in his pocket. The only question was who's this 'Miss Worthing? He thought he knew everyone in the village but he'd never come across her. Surely New Farm was owned by the Thompsons?
At last Mrs Higgins had finished so Jim paid for the milk and returned home.
"Mum!" he called out as he entered the house. "Don't the Thompsons run New Farm?"
"Didn't you hear? Jack Thompson got taken ill last April. He's retired now. Some newcomer has taken over, a Miss Worthing, I'm sure I mentioned it. She can be a bit of a dragon from what I hear but the girls all seem to like her and there's no doubting she's put some life back in the old place. Why do you ask?"
"There was a notice in the post office; she needs someone to work in the stables. I thought I might apply," Jim replied.
"A job at Miss Worthing's stables? Well, you had better buck your ideas up. A job like that will be snapped up in no time. I'd go down this afternoon if I were you. Now come and have your lunch."
That afternoon Jim sauntered down the lanes heading for New Farm. It was a beautiful day, the birds were singing in the trees, and the Dorset countryside was looking its picture postcard best. He reached the farm, turned up the drive and, carefully shutting the gate behind him, walked up the house. There was no answer at the door so he wandered across the farmyard to the stables towards where he could hear noises. He opened the door only to be hit full in the face by a spray of muddy water ricocheting from the floor as someone used a high-pressure hose.
"You idiot; bursting in like that! Why don't you knock before you enter?" A woman's voice called out as the sound of the pressure washer died down. "Here, dry yourself off with this."
Jim felt a rough towel being pushed into his hands and, as he wiped the water from his face he could finally see whom he was dealing with. The woman in front of him, presumably Miss Worthing, was tall and slim and was dressed in a white blouse, jodhpurs, and riding boots. She was definitely older than Jim but quite a bit younger than his mum, Jim guessed at somewhere in her low thirties, and definitely good looking in a smart, stylish way but, more than all that, there was something about her, something about the air of self confidence, the way she hadn't even thought about apologising for soaking him, that marked her out as a woman not to be trifled with. Instead of feeling annoyed at the soaking he felt like a naughty schoolchild in front of the headmistress.
"Well, can I help you?" she said sharply; her voice, whilst not unfriendly, was not exactly welcoming either.
"Err... I came about the job; I saw the card in the post office," Jim stuttered.
"Did you indeed?" Miss Worthing seemed bemused. "Do you think you're up to it?"
"Yes, yes, I am. I've lived in the village all my life and often helped out Mr Thompson when he owned this farm," Jim replied.
"Helped out the Thompsons, eh? I think you'll find I run things a bit differently; a bit more business-like. The job's still open; I was rather expecting one of the girls to apply but it would seem that they see themselves as above mere menial work. Do you see yourself as above menial work?"
"No, of course not. Just let me know what you want doing and I'm up for it; anything at all."
"Anything at all," Miss Worthing echoed as she looked Jim up and down as if inspecting him. "Well, I have to admit that you weren't exactly what I was looking for but I think you might just do. It might even be fun to have a lad like you around the place. Right then, here are the rules. The girls, or rather their parents, pay a small fortune to have their ponies kept in stables that are always in tip-top condition, and that's what they're going to get. Your job will be to ensure that the stables are clean and swept at all times and all the tack is to be equally clean and polished. As regards the girls, they are my clients and you are staff and you are not, repeat not, ever to forget that. You will make sure that everything at the stables goes just the way they want it. You will treat them with respect at all times, and, as far as possible, avoid talking to them; you won't have time for idle chatter. When you do have to talk to them you will refer to them as 'Miss' and, whilst we're on the subject, you will refer to me as Miss Worthing. You start work at six in the morning and you stay until you're finished. For that you get five pounds an hour. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Err... Yes, yes, Miss Worthing," Jim replied, somewhat taken aback.
"Well, you had best come and have a look at the stables then; see the changes I've made since Mr Thompson's time. Follow me."
Miss Worthing turned and led the way back into the stable complex. There were indeed many changes since the Thompsons had run them. The whole place was scrupulously clean and well maintained and many of the stalls were occupied. The main body of the stables was a brick floored aisle with stalls along either side. There was a sort of cross-roads in the centre and, on the right was a barn which had been converted into an arena with seating around the edges to allow for show jumping competitions. On the left was a spacious tack room and, next to it a staffroom. Everywhere Jim looked there was an air of prosperity about the place that had been lacking previously and it was obvious that Miss Worthing was a competent businesswoman. Whilst she explained the daily routine Jim was shown where he would be working; the tack room with it's rows of saddles and bridles and how it was all laid out, where the cleaning stuff was and how to use the high pressure washing system. He was also shown the staff room with turned out to have an an attached bathroom and, to his surprise a bunk bed. Jim wondered how busy he would have to be to consider staying overnight when his home was so close by. All the time Miss Worthing maintained her brisk professionalism but Jim couldn't escape the feeling that there was something which amused her.
"So, do you think you can handle being bossed around by a bunch of teenage girls?" Miss Worthing asked as they finished the tour and re-emerged into the sunlight.
"Bossed around?" Jim queried.
"Oh yes. Some of the girls can be quite, err... demanding and they're used to having their own way. For that matter you'll find I won't stand for any slacking. When I give an order I expect it to be obeyed promptly and willingly otherwise... Let's just say that you'd do best to obey." Miss Worthing gave Jim a long penetrating look, a look that seemed to bore inside him. "Mind you, some boys quite like to be bossed around by the girls, quite like to be 'taken in hand', as it were; are you one of those?"
"I don't know what you mean," Jim replied but he couldn't help but blush. The blunt, open nature of the question had taken him by surprise; he'd never before thought about being 'taken in hand', as Miss Worthing put it, but now that he did his reaction was confused and complicated.
"Well, we'll see, won't we?" Miss Worthing said with a light laugh. "I'll be taking Morning Dew out first thing tomorrow for a gallop. Make sure she's ready for me and, while you're at it, my boots could do with a polish. Have everything ready by seven."
"Certainly, Miss Worthing. I won't let you down."
"You'd better not. Now off you go, I'll see you tomorrow." Without further ado Miss Worthing turned and went back to the stables. Jim stood for a moment in thought before returning home.
