Mike Robertson woke up to the sound of his alarm clock, and rubbed his eyes. He was slightly tumescent, as he in his half-awake and half-asleep state found himself thinking of Siobhan, and the evening that they had spent together.
After their nap, they had looked at each other. "What now?" Mike had asked. Siobhan had pulled the sheet up to her chin, and looked away. "Whatever must you think of me? Throwing myself at you like that?" Mike had stroked her shoulder, "Hey. Don't take on. You didn't throw yourself at me. We both needed this, we both enjoyed it. I don't think any the less of you; in fact, I think the more of you. The question is, where do we go from here?"
Siobhan had turned back to face him and looked him in the eyes. "You're right. It was good, and we both needed it. However, I'm not ready for a relationship. Can we leave it that we'll stay in touch and maybe help each other out when we need something?" Mike had nodded, and agreed. After getting dressed, they had parted with a lingering kiss.
Now that his employers, Mr & Mrs Leigh, had arrived, Mike's days and evenings were pretty full. He started work at 7:30 in the morning, to help the cook with breakfast, then supervised the local housekeepers as they cleaned the house. The Leighs generally had a light lunch, then took a nap in the afternoon. In the evenings, they either ate out or entertained a few old friends to dinner, which Mike served. His day ended at about 11 pm, when he fell in to bed. His favorite times were Wednesday and Thursday, which were his days off and he was free to either return to the City, or just potter about Easthampton.
One morning in mid June, Mr Leigh looked up from his breakfast and said, "Oh, Michael, I almost forgot. We've been invited to join a party on a three weeks' cruise on Mr X's yacht, and we'll be away from Friday. Would you be kind enough to help Mrs Leigh with the packing?"
"Of course, Sir." Replied Mike, his heart rising at the thought of a couple of easy weeks. "One more thing, Michael, my niece, Patricia, will be here next week. We invited her before we were asked to join the cruise, as she's having a bit of a rough time since her divorce. I know you'll look after her. Also, my other niece, Joanne, will be here the following week."
Again, "Of course, Sir." was the only reply open to Mike as he gloomily saw his easy time vanish at the thought of Patricia's arrival. He remembered her from previous visits, a somewhat spoiled Upper East Side trust fund kid, she had made three very ill advised marriages before she was 30. Somehow, she had emerged from each marriage with a larger fortune, but at some cost to her emotional well-being. Mike knew that her latest divorce had been even more draining than the first two, as Patricia had to endure the public's glee as the facts of her husband's several infidelities had been spread over the tabloid press. Several of these infidelities had been with other couples and with men, and somehow the paparazzi had managed to take her photograph emerging from the clinic where she had gone for an AIDS test. Mike knew that she would probably be an easy house guest, unlike her cousin Joanne, who at nearly 35 had remained single, knew the biological clock was ticking away and seemed to behave more like a spoiled brat the older she got.
Having seen his employers safely off on their cruise, Mike had a fairly relaxed weekend. He had called Siobhan, but she had a house full of guests and wouldn't be able to see him. Monday morning found him at Easthampton airport, to meet Patricia Leigh Travers when her helicopter arrived. She greeted him somewhat abstractedly, and waited in the car whilst Mike helped the pilots load her bags in to the back. As they drove to the house, Mike explained to Patricia that her Uncle and Aunt were away. "I know" she said, "They sent me an email. That's OK – I just need a week or so to totally relax and get my head together. I know you'll look after me, you always do."
As Patricia settled in to her room with one of the housekeepers helping her unpack, Mike spent a few minutes chatting with the cook. They decided that Patricia was looking tired and that they would do their best to help her relax.
As the week passed by, the staff found Patricia to be an undemanding and appreciative houseguest. She took her meals when she said she would, and spent much of her time sunbathing by the pool, or sitting under an umbrella reading her book. Mike made sure that she had a good supply of cold drinks in the coolbox, and checked regularly to see if she needed anything. On the afternoon of her last day, Friday, he made one of his usual trips out to the poolside, and immediately noticed that something was wrong. Patricia, normally a strong swimmer, was floundering in the pool and was obviously in some distress. Dropping his cell phone and PDA on the ground, Mike dived in, and with a couple of lengthy strokes was at her side. Panicking, Patricia started to claw at Mike, but he was able to turn her so that she had her back to him, and supporting her struggling form on top of his body swan backwards to the shallow end, where he was able to get both her feet on the bottom. He held her from behind at arms length, his hands on her upper arms, as she recovered sufficiently to be led to the steps and he helped her out of the pool. She shakily sat down in a chair, as Mike got a towel and wrapped it round her shoulder. "Are you alright, Miss Patricia?" he asked, "What happened?"
Patricia shuddered and seemed to shrink into the towel. "I don't know. I got cramp, and couldn't move. I should have left it longer after lunch before I went in the pool."
Mike looked concernedly at her as she shivered, despite the warmth of the day. "Can I get you anything?" he asked. "You should probably see a doctor."
