On a warm sunny evening, what could be better than a five-minute walk to enjoy a meal and a pint?
Mick plumped for his favourite, gammon with eggs and pineapple. Tammy ordered lasagne.
Following a slow walk back, they sit outside the caravan with a glass of wine, enjoying the view of the glowing sunset across the open fields.
Mick decides before it gets too dark he will take their two dogs for a short walk. They don't like to go too far so he will only walk across the field at the rear to the train crossing.
As he gets close, he notices someone standing on the railway tracks.
As Mick approaches the man on the track, even from the side view, he thinks he recognises him, but to be sure he calls out. "Mr Sheldon. Is that you?"
Startled by the intrusion, James opens his eyes and turns towards the unknown voice.
"Do I know you?"
In the distance, a train whistle blows. It seems the 7.42 is trying to make up time.
Mick steps onto the track. His two dogs follow.
"What are you doing?" James asks.
"If you're going to stand on the track so am I."
"Don't be a fool. The train will be here soon. Get off."
"Indeed. Not until you do."
"Walk away. Leave me alone. You don’t need to see this."
"Mr Sheldon. You won't remember me. Your charity gave us the house on Asbury Park. We'd been in a depressing two-bedroom flat with damp on the walls and a water supply that didn't work half of the time. My wife and I argued all the time. We were miserable and desperate in that flat. We nearly split up.
“Your charity offered us a beautiful three-bedroom house at half the rent of what we were paying for the flat. You saved my marriage. I can't stand by and see you do this. So I'm staying right here. Yes indeed. What happens to me is now your responsibility."
Both men feel the rumble of the tracks. The train is getting very close.
Twenty seconds later it thunders over the crossing and on into the distance. The two men stand yards from the track watching it continue its journey.
"Phew. Indeed. That was close," Mick said. "Come on, mate. My wife and I are parked across the field in our caravan. Please come and say hello. I'm sure Tammy would like to thank you for what you've done."
"I appreciate the offer. But best I go home."
"Will you promise me you won't do anything rash?"
"Yes. I promise I'll reconsider. Thank you for the words of encouragement. I didn't realise the houses had made such a difference. I appreciate what you said."
"Mr Sheldon, as I told you, you've changed a lot of lives for the better. Please stick around and I hope you sort out whatever is troubling you."
"I will. I promise." James gives a faint smile.
"Mr Sheldon, I'm not sure what the problem is and it's none of my business but perhaps you might consider getting a dog. They can be a great comfort."
James looks across at the two small dogs at Mick’s side, sitting and looking up at their owner with pure love in their eyes.
As he walks back across the field, Mick stops and waits until he sees James reach the crossing and head in the direction of where he said he left his car.
When he is sure the man won't return to the tracks, he continues his walk. He thinks, All that money and he's still not happy. I hope he finds peace with whatever it is. Yes indeed.
Chapter Twenty
Every pair of male eyes within thirty feet is virtually popping out of their heads as the bubbly blonde eighteen-year-old twins wiggle their shapely backsides from the luggage terminal, through the ‘Nothing to Declare’ channel and across the arrivals terminal, in a way that would make Marilyn Monroe proud.
After seven sun-soaked days and humid nights in Ibiza, they have come home to be greeted by the same drab weather as when they left. Their holiday had been amazing but sadly over.
It seems the press isn’t aware of their return and no paparazzi are around. The only people to notice them are a lot of men and a bunch of delighted young fans who happened to be at the airport. Several have asked for selfies and the girls are more than happy to oblige.
As the twins walk towards the exit, they see a man wearing a chauffeur’s uniform and cap. He is holding a white placard with their names ‘Erica and Leona Mitten’ neatly written on it. He smiles as one of the twins waves to him.
“There’s a special VIP limousine waiting to take you home, courtesy of your father." He picks up the larger two of four pieces of luggage and says, “Please follow me.”
“Wow! How exciting. I can’t believe Dad would organise this,” Erica says.
“Perhaps he’s getting more generous in his old age.” Leona giggles.
“Fat chance of that. He’ll probably send us the bill next week.”
The two girls follow the chauffeur as he leads them to the multi-storey car park.
“The car’s over here.” He points to the pure white shiny Mercedes S-class limousine parked up ahead. As they approach, the chauffeur presses his key toggle and the boot of the Mercedes opens. The girls stand next to him as he places the first two pieces of luggage in the boot.
Parked in the adjoining bay along is a black eight-seater Vito Tourer minibus with blacked-out windows. It’s parked the opposite way round to the limousine with the front of the vehicle close to the boot of the Mercedes. There is a man with a beard and dark glasses sitting in the driver’s seat.
Without warning, the sliding rear door of the minibus opens and two men wearing ski masks jump out. Before the girls realise
