Internationally acclaimed British film Star Katie O'Shea arrived alone and incognito and was whisked through Immigration and Customs checkpoints at Auckland International Airport by a burly New Zealand security man and placed into a black limo outside the airport terminal.
It appeared no one had recognized her, apart from the well-disciplined customs officials and, of course, the airline's discreet cabin attendants.
A recent divorce and the failure of her two latest films to shine well at the box office, had left Katie in despair and exhausted.
On the advice of her medical advisers, she'd pulled out of her next film - it was placed on hold because the part of the principal character was written specifically to capture her talents - and she moved off to 'disappear off the map' for six weeks.
Awaking next morning just before noon, Katie, now under the assumed name of Lydia Valencia, heard a disturbance outside.
Walking on to the balcony, she saw her two broad-shouldered male 'attendants' accosting a tanned wiry man aged about thirty dressed only in ragged shorts and sandals. In his hands he held a motorized edge trimmer.
Lydia (Katie) heard Saul say, "Beat it chump along with that noisy machine; our client is asleep and needs rest."
"Yeah, well if she went to bed like a normal person, she'd be up now to enjoy the day; it will do her good to hear my weed-eater buzzing, knowing that some people are doing an honest day's work."
He pulled the cord and the machine started instantly, making quite a racket.
"Turn that thing off, you mother-fucker otherwise I'll wrap it round your neck!"
"Omigod, my own High Noon on the lawn," chuckled Lydia, watching the man drop the machine which stuttered to a stop and hearing him say, "You've defamed my mother; apologize right now, Arsehole."
As Saul drew back his huge fist, Lydia whispered "Don't be too brutal."
She then witnessed an amazing sight.
The fist went flying other the workman's shoulder as he moved his head in the nick of time and he just seemed to kick at Saul's knee. The big man collapsed in a heap, screaming.
Benny raced away and the workman pulled out his cell phone and made a call and then picked up his machine. Benny reappeared and unclipping the lead on the German Shepherd, and set the dog on the workman.
The man watched the dog bounding at him. He whistled shrilly and shouted a command. The dog stopped, looking back at Benny confused, allowing the man to calmly walk away around the back of the rural rental home.
Lydia threw on a gown and raced out to help Saul.
"I'll get help," she said.
"I heard that guy call an ambulance."
"Right. Saul, you must say you tripped and fell, otherwise we'll have the police and media in on this and my cover will be blown. You'll be compensated financially."
"Right, Miss Valencia," he groaned.
"Benny, get that useless dog out of here and bring Saul a pillow and a rug. For god's sake, you should have done that already instead of looking at him and asking if it hurts. Of course, it fucking hurts."
"Yes Miss Valencia, right away Miss Valencia."
When Benny returned with a rug and two pillows, Lydia strode off to the kitchen to get Saul some water and pain-killers if she could find them.
She found the workman sitting at the table, drinking coffee.
"What are you doing in my house?" she enquired, icily.
"You've rented it for six weeks. The contract says the grounds will be maintained and the grounds man has access to the kitchen, adjoining toilet and the ground floor bedroom."
"And does the contract say the groundsman is free to criminally assault one of my minders?"
"Believe what you like, lady, but our security cameras will tell the story, showing the punch designed to knock my head off."
"Oh."
"Anyway, why should you have two minders with a half-trained attack dog? Who are you?"
"Never you mind. I'll have to engage another private security officer, thanks to you."
"Why not use my services?"
"What?"
"I'm ex-Army trained to go in after individuals requiring extrication to get them out safely. If anyone gets through me to the target, I'll be dead. Sit and have coffee and talk about this."
"I'll come back when my man has been safely removed."
"Fine, my name's Taylor."
"Taylor who?"
"Taylor Novak."
"Oh, then are you related to Mr Morris Novak, who owns this property?"
"He's my father."
"Oh, I'm Lydia, Lydia Valencia."
"That's an unlikely name," said Taylor, causing Lydia to flush. She walked away speechless and fuming.
Lydia returned to the kitchen twenty minutes later.
Taylor announced coffee was off as it was approaching lunch time and Mrs Mullins would be arriving soon to prepare it. He fetched a bottle of white wine from the fridge and grabbed two glasses.
"Have some of this or don't you drink with gardeners?"
"A half glass, thank you."
Lydia took a sip and exclaimed how beautiful it was and asked what wine was it.
Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough region well south of here, best in the world.
"On whose say so?"
"We say so."
Lydia smiled.
He was rude but quite a character. It has been sometime since she had been in the company of a genuine character other than a relative.
They talked, Mrs Mullins arrived and Lydia stayed and had lunch with them in the kitchen instead of in the dining room.
After Mrs Mullins had left and two bottles of wine later, Lydia had told Taylor everything. She kept a brave face but finally cried and that was the last thing she remembered.
The dawn chorus of birds woke Lydia next morning. She found herself in bed, nude, her clothes stacked neatly on the lounge chair.
"The cheeky mutt," she scowled, realizing she'd must had passed out, with Taylor or whatever his real name was putting her to bed after undressing her. She turned crimson, recalling it was five days since she'd shaved her vulva; he would not have been impressed.
Taylor came into the bedroom without knocking, indicating that after what he'd seen the previous night it didn't seem necessary to knock.
"You need a shave," he grinned.
