Day 1. Monday.   ‘Millicent! I need to talk to you.’ I wouldn’t have noticed Vera as she sat down, because of my terrible eyesight. The name was mine. It had to be me she was calling. But from where? I searched the café. This meant peering across the space between, through powerful lenses. Vera wasn’t a regular visitor, even though it was her café. Most café owners would breakfast in their restaurant every morning, but not Vera and I certainly don’t eat here. It isn’t my café. I’m just a worker from the village, who tries to earn a few quid as a waitress, so when I finally spotted her over by the long trestles, used by coach parties, she was waving me over. My heart skipped a beat as I imagined the conversation to come. ‘Millicent, we have too many staff on and being casual, I’m afraid I’ll have to let you go. I’ll have your last wages ready at midday.’ This wasn’t panic. She was on the other side of

Day 2 cont. I became worried. Had I overstepped the mark? She had insisted on honesty and humiliated me. She had to be told. That was to be the deal or so I thought, but my dad had warned me that this job would come to no good. ‘They are all a cup short of a tea-set, when it comes to snobbish protocol,’ he had informed me over supper last night. I dried my eyes on my blouse sleeve, and managed a conciliatory tone, mainly because she was white as a sheet and I feared a coronary was on its way.   'What is it?' I asked. 'Are you ill?'

Day 3. Wednesday   Sometime in the night, a cold, intense drizzle began to blow across the fens. My bedroom window is covered in a fine mist. Where did that change in the weather come from? Yesterday was glorious. That meant that few visitors would turn out, so they wouldn’t want me in the café – no big deal if Vera paid me – but Sid would be in desperate straits if they sent her home without working a shift. She was, as far as I knew, the only earner in the family. Now was the time to regret my outburst yesterday, when I more or less told Vera she should stuff the rotten Land Rover where the sun don’t shine. As my Granddad would tell me, should I bump into him, a second-class ride is better than a first class walk, especially in such weather. I found my screwed-up rain gear in the bottom of the wardrobe, under my muddy boots, so I was guaranteed to look a sight. I could only hope it would rain hard enough to wash the mud

Day 5. Friday. I had never discussed a work contract with Vera. Day one had been a Monday, which hadn’t really been a working day. Tuesday I’d moonlighted in the café so maybe Vera wouldn’t pay me for that either. And I don’t know if I am working weekends or not. She said I would be paid monthly and that would be a nightmare.As I walked up the wide gravel path to the huge oak door, I decided I would have to talk dirty with Vera - at least she would consider talking about money to be talking dirty, but it had to be done. I would have to ask Vera for a sub.I found her in her apartment, with her head in the cupboard under the newly fitted sink. She was whispering something to herself and it ended with a ladylike ‘drat’. Did she only swear to impress me?'Anything the matter, Vera?'She jerked her head upwards and caught it on the sink wi

We spent the afternoon sorting out a couple of riding habits. I learnt that what is worn nowadays are called jodhpurs. The boots were awesome and would have made kinky bedroom attire. During the afternoon we had to go to a friend’s house. I was driven by Vera to the next village in her BMW. Vera’s friend had two daughters and hence a collection of ball-gowns. The girls were away at boarding school, so would not be needing gowns.By the time I met Sid for our walk home, I was fully equipped – mentally and physically – for the execution of Vera’s scheme. The physical bit I would like to have saved myself. The bag with riding outfits, including boots, and the two ball-gowns were more than I could carry, so I was pleased to palm the gowns off on Sid.She looked mistrustfully at the packet and then asked, 'What actually is in this bin-liner?''Two ball-gowns. We are going to do it.''We are so not going to go to either the hunt or