Sarah was sitting in front of the fire in her northern English home reading a Harry Potter novel. The weather had turned suddenly from bright and sunny to wet and miserable.
"How very English, but we can't complain," she thought, "as rain is what makes this the green and pleasant land. Look at those photos of Australia with vast areas of dry red soil stretching for hundreds, perhaps thousands of kilometres in all directions. How can people live there?"
"If only I still had Graham," she continued. "He was really good company and we were planning to farm our few acres and start a family. All I have now, since the accident, is a meagre widow's pension, lots of solitude and acres of weeds."
The musing was interrupted by a timid knock on the door. Sarah walked down the hallway, peered through the window and saw a slim shadow. Opening the door revealed a bedraggled schoolboy who had clearly been caught in the rain. His bicycle was lying at the bottom of the steps. The boys from Eastlands College usually looked so smart in their neatly pressed uniforms. She felt sorry for this fellow. He had obvious good looks that were hidden under dripping hair.
"I'm sorry, Madam," he started mildly, "but we were on a cross-country bicycle trip and I lost the others when I stopped to fix a puncture. And then the rain started. I was wondering if you could direct me to the main road?"
"Why don't you take your bike around to the shed and leave there, while you come inside and stand by the fire and we check the map?"
"I don't really want to be a nuisance, Madam," he replied, "but that is a very kind offer."
"These public school boys certainly know their manners," Sarah reflected as she pointed out the path to the shed.
A couple of minutes later, the young man appeared at her door again. Sarah allowed him to drip his way to the sitting room and stand by the fire.
"What is your name?" Sarah asked.
"Jordan," he replied, "Jordan Craighurst. I go to Eastlands College. I've been in the upper sixth since I turned 18. This bike trip was an orienteering exercise with our Geography master. I'll be in trouble if I don't show at the next control point."
"Well, I am Sarah. You are welcome to use the phone to notify the College of your position, although I expect you have a mobile phone, GPS and all the rest."
"I do," replied Graham "but part of my trouble is that my battery is flat."
"Well, let's see what we can do to sort you out." Sarah suddenly became business-like. "Take off your jacket and hang it on this chair. I'll get you a gown so you can take off your trousers."
Sarah went off to find a towel and a dressing-gown of her late husband's. When she returned she saw that Jordan's shirt was also soaked. "Take of your shirt, tie and trousers and put this gown on," she ordered. "I'll leave the room for a few minutes while you do it."
"A very fine-looking boy," Sarah said to herself, quietly going to her bedroom and removing her bra from under her blouse. "He might be inclined to show some interest. I haven't had any for 9 months."
When Sarah returned, she found that Jordan had done as instructed. "Let's hang the wet clothes by the fire, and you go and use the phone to notify your Geography master that you are well and safe."
While Jordan telephoned, Sarah boiled the kettle. "We'll try the universal English cure for people in trouble and make a cup of tea," she decided.
Sarah looked out the kitchen window and saw that the rain had increased. "In another hour it will be dark," she realised. "Jordan will have to spend the night here." She took the tea back to Jordan who smiled sweetly and said "Thank you Madam."
"Please call me Sarah," she replied. "We will soon have you warm inside and out. But I can't see how you can get back to your College tonight. My car is like your phone and has a flat battery. Since my husband died there's been nobody to take an interest in mechanical things around here. I have some frozen lasagna in the fridge. Why don't we heat that and have a supper together?"
Jordan was looking drier, so Sarah suggested he go to the bathroom and use a comb on his hair. Meanwhile she heated the oven and found a bottle of red wine.
When Jordan returned he looked very much better "Quite a handsome boy," was Sarah's private opinion.
"Take a seat and put your teacup on this little table," Sarah advised. "Do you want a refill of tea?"
"I really would, thank you," replied Jordan.
Sarah brought out the teapot and bent low over the table allowing plenty of cleavage to show in Jordan's direction. "This is what I used to do to Graham," she remembered, "Men are so predictable." She noticed Jordan's shy glance.
