Hilary Came To The Barn

Hilary and I crossed paths along Scotland's bonny plains. She was an unusual woman, whose husband had jumped off to death from a bridge near Perth. The area she lived in was a tranquil spot. Hilary had four crazy daughters who were all mature teenagers. They were not well behaved young ladies. Quite a handful in fact. It seemed to me Hilary dived in and out of romances. No pause before the next run. Out of the frying -pans into the fire. All her romances were the most dreadful kinds. Hilary took to buying a white horse. A cheap catch, to sooth her nerves. He was an old boy her horse, stocky type, far more reliable than her choices in romantic matters.

I was maneuvering my horses around at the time, having found a stables next to a hotel right around the back of her house. Hilary was multi-tasking, between her daughters outrageously outlandish behaviours. My sons seemed like a dream compared to her teenage daughter drill. We'd met at the local stables. We spontaneously clicked.

Hilary was a live wire lass. Untrained around horses, where we somewhat clashed. I'd been to equestrian school, although, bless her heart, she possessed a natural technique which kept her from falling off horses or landing headfirst in a ditch. We galloped horses day in day out. In the midst of our surreal reality. I shipped my sons to a local Scottish school. House rent was dirt cheap. I taught people how to ride horses out of my mothering hours. I wish I could turn back time, it was heaven sent, looking back.

One day, I left Scotland speedily for the following reason. My parents house in London suddenly burst into flames. They both survived a sudden dreadful fire. I Decided on a solution to be closer to Mum and Dad. After scratching my head in exasperation. I made a plan to head back to my barn. London from the barn, was one hour on the road approximately. My old barn was crying in desperation for attention. I'd been multi-tasking, as Mums do.

Hilary's reaction to my departure was somewhat interesting. She felt desperately alone. She burst into tears upon my leaving Scotland. I suppose, I'd been a shoulder for her to let go of all her woes on. In the midst of hanging my many baskets of life in the air. I'd become her healing aid. I seemed to always become a comfort zone for others woes. Feeling concerned for my Celtic friend. I had to leave all alone, with her fighting daughters. White horses to care for, without my assistance. I'd been her Scottish moor companion, horse trainer for free, as well as friend. I felt somewhat inclined to send my highland friend a guardian angel.

I'd hailed a British civil servant as a friend a few years just before I'd met Hilary the Celtic princess. My civil servant friends life was in a different kind of pickle. His wife had moved a young handsome school teacher into their marital home, in-between his huge schedule of British governmental duties. Without her husbands permission. My friend Bill was one of the sweetest most charming gentleman you'd ever imagine. In the category of good men that is. His wife sneaked a younger man in. Even though he lived under the same roof. For obvious reasons due to his demanding job, time at home, was sparingly light. One day Bill arrived hone to find a strange man in the sack with his wife. Their marriage was over and out. It was doomed already, according to Bryan. His wife was very promiscuous. He reconciled with his wife, to the point he felt justified to have an affair himself. Incidentally, Bill shacked up in London with another female civil servant on weekends. Takes two to tango. The female Civil servant was a Scottish lass too, infact. Being inside a miserable doomed marriage. London was Bills escape pad most weeks. Civil servants salaries tend to permit secret love affairs. Blending between governmental duties. Sad marriages stack up. Incidentally, when I met my friend Bryan. He was entwined inside a love knot. On turning a blind eye to his wife's young school teacher fling.

As for myself, I was in-between holding up- fort on after-effects of 'the great fire of London'. The remnants of my parents art parlour that had gone up in flames. Saving my fathers masterpieces with my mother. Rescuing years of my father's work from the sad fire of London Notting-Hill gate. My parents art studio.

Back to the barn. I spoke to Bill quite often, at our morning coffee stop near my barn. His country office was close, which allowed me to use it's facilities. Tackling my own marriage propaganda. It had gone down the drain years ago. I was attacked for everything a cow could poo out it's bottom. As a young mother, I had to deal with cow-dung scented court papers full of stinking lies. A continuous old cow-drilled into my back-yard.

Angels like Bill arrive out of the blue.

One day, I decided to introduce Hilary to Bill. He was often in Scotland. I felt he might be a good friend to Hilary. Also, Bill tended to be rather saintly himself. I did just so. They met up in the highlands one day. Upon a conversation, whilst Bill and I were taking coffee by my barn in southern country-lanes. I was still multi-tasking with damaged art. Court papers, stinking of cow dung, from my X. It came to Bill's attention, I needed a helping hand. He suggested Hilary come down to my barn to tidy up. Giving me a helping hand would take the pressure off. I thought it was a wonderful idea.

Bill was back on route to Scotland. I handed him the keys to my barn to give to Hilary. She could get out of her daughter drill at last. Her daughters were all well on the road to leaving home. Moving in with Scotland's wild warrior Celtic men. She'd fixed up various arrangements for her white horse ready to depart for her next adventure at my barn. I took a deep breath feeling a release of anxiety hormones, lifting off my back. This enabled me to counter-attack my parents art-house stumbling block. Rescuing them from loosing their hair, in London art quarters.

Hilary got to work at my barn making sense out of chaotic disorder in the surrounding pastures, which had become a weed overkill nightmare. She settled into a routine of mending various issues, like the broken gate. Away from her usual brawl of demanding daughters. She seemed happy enough.

I asked no questions about her relationship with my friend Bill. I think Bill had enough on his plate with a female civil servant he thrilled every weekend. The role of my personal PA he'd fallen into by chance, seemed to be a break for him. Shutting off from governmental threads in various architectural missions, surrounding inner United Kingdoms green hills. A form of escapism, I surmised. I wasn't the usual country bumkin. No, city born country girl. I led a life down on the farm almost, with experience from big city living in the fast lane. Mix and match. My father was from a farming background. Became an artist after the war.

The barn was a secret hideaway. I'd received an unexpected sum of cash, in two thousand and six. A lump -sum to buy the barn. Being generously gifted to me from my long-term distinguished lover. I still feel somewhat hooked by invisible glue to. Like inside one of those romantic fairy- tales. 'Husband Out of Town' scenario. He's often 'Out On The Town'. Unlike me. I'm the struggling author, poet. Interesting jobs have flaws. Invisible romances have their upside, if be the case, is often visible in one's heart. Cased up by flesh filled muscles over- flowing with oxygenated blood. One hopes !

I left several of my personal handbags at the barn. Inside were tickets from local shops, for one thing and t'other. A bag of house receipts for essentials. Helping me to keep track, therefore making my accounting duties easier. Multi-tasking is a woman's art.

One day, I remembered I had an expensive black artificial fur coat in a local dry-cleaners. Remembering which bag where the ticket to collect my coat was. I gave Bill instructions for Hilary to go and collect my coat. Android, Apple mobile, cell phone systems in the years two-thousand six to seven, were not advanced, as they now are. Bill popped down to the barn to ensure Hilary was ok from time to time. My guardian angel/PA. I assumed everything was under control. From Bills feedback it seemed that way.

Out of the blue one day, Bill announced Hilary wanted to stay at my barn forever. I could not give her that privilege. I needed use of the barn myself. Bill tried to persuade me to let her stay forever. I found this a most bizarre request. Sticking to my guns. I discussed the peculiar proposal with my Mother. She likewise agreed with me. It was completely out of the question.

My decisive firmness over the matter, led to a state of unrest. The settled state of my friends mind transformed. Had it all been nothing but a superficial frontier ? My friend suddenly continuously bickered about one thing and t'other to Bill. One day, she slammed the door on my barn and left in a cold manner without even saying goodbye.

I went down to my barn one day checking up on things, after the storm had calmed. I decided to go to collect my non -animal artificial fake fur. The dry cleaners said 'they no longer had it, it had been collected'. I raised my eyebrows, then telephoned Bill. He seemed to know nothing about it.

'What happened to my coat ?'

Moto ;- 'Blindly trusting entails loosing'

Delila Reddit

Yvette Louise Melech

copyright author/vocal media