‘Did you sleep well?’ He heard her voice from the back of the house. Momentarily, he was startled.

So, he hadn’t been dreaming - she was in the pub; she was here with him in the house.

‘I’ve made you a mug of strong tea.’ She appeared in the doorway. ‘And I’ve run you a bath.’ She stepped forward and held out the mug for him to take, then stepped back again into the doorframe.

He murmured his thanks and cupped the mug in both hands.

‘That’s a lot of questions you have in there isn’t it Mortimer Cobb?’ She lifted her arm upwards and made a spinning motion with her hand, then tapped her head. ‘Up here and in your heart.

Sometimes the fantastic fills us with fear, doesn’t it?’

Mort cleared his throat. She could read his mind. What the fuck was going on, he thought?

‘Oh, well,’ she said softly, ‘All will become clear. And today.’ He was staring up at her. ‘And I hope you don’t mind Mortimer, but I slept on your bed, only for a few minutes and just to rest my head. Not for long – I promise.’ He continued to stare up at her. ‘I hope that was OK.’

He continued staring as he nodded his head slowly. ‘Sure, that was fine,’ he murmured, ‘but I think I’m probably a bit embarrassed about the state you found the room in – and the bed.’

She leaned against the door frame and shrugged slightly. ‘I’m probably a bit embarrassed to admit the room may have been given a woman’s touch early this morning.’ She held her hand up, fore finger and thumb barely apart to signify a small gap. ‘Just a little bit.’ She smiled warmly. ‘I haven’t emasculated your interior design efforts, I promise.’

Mortimer spluttered on his tea. He coughed and then gasped for breath. ‘Good God,’ he exclaimed.

‘That’s probably the funniest thing anyone’s said to me for years.’ He shook his head. ‘My design talents – there’s a new thing in my life.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you choke.’ She stood upright, doing her best not to laugh at him.

‘I’ll grab my tea.’

He sat grinning for a while before sipping his tea. She reappeared in the doorway. ‘How do you feel today?’

​

Mort put down the mug on the small table at his side. He pulled himself to his feet and glanced around the room. It looked tidy and felt as though it was being cared for rather than taken for granted.

He took a moment to compose himself. ‘I feel good. I don’t know why. I haven’t a clue.’ He looked at her sipping her tea from his one decent fine bone China mug. ‘Glad you found that. It deserves a fine woman to appreciate it.’ He picked up his heavy ceramic mug and drank some more tea.

‘I feel better, in my head.’ He put down the mug. ‘I feel different if I’m honest.’ He shook his arms and threw his neck from side to side a few times. ‘Aye, I feel “champion” as they say in these parts.’

His short ‘feelgood’ display over, he picked his mug up again.

That’s good. Now, why don’t you go upstairs and have your bath. I’ve put clothes out for you. They’re on the bed.’

Mort’s tea mug stopped halfway up to his mouth. ‘You have?’

She nodded. ‘And I’ll do some breakfast while you bathe.’

‘You will?’

‘Or perhaps I’ll wait, then we can talk while I cook.’ She wasn’t looking at him, but all around her as she grimaced and pursed her lips, as though she wasn’t sure which decision was the right one.

‘Yes, I’ll wait.’ She stood, her hands around her tea mug. Then she nodded curtly and turned back to

the kitchen. It was only then Mort noticed she was still wearing the red dress. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Won’t you need clean clothes?’

She nodded again. ‘Yes, yes, I will, and I’ll fix that as soon as I have you straight and the day started.’

She beckoned him up the stairs that led from the lounge and curved their way to the first-floor landing. He climbed slowly, tea mug in hand.

A few minutes later, as she climbed the stairs, Mort was laying in the deep, warm bath water. She stood at the closed door. ‘OK in there?’ she called.

There was a brief pause while Mort turned to the door, making sure it was closed and he was still alone. ‘Yes, thanks.’ He cupped his hands, filled them with water and splashed his face.

​

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course,’ she replied from the landing.

‘What happened last night?’

‘Sorry, what do you mean?’

‘I mean, what’s changed this morning?’ He paused. ‘I don’t feel the same. I wonder what’s changed.’

‘You mean, you don’t feel like getting drunk, getting down on all fours and making pig noises.’

She heard Mort shout back. ‘What?’ He cried out. ‘Sophia!’ He remembered her name. ‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’

The door open. Sophia stepped in. ‘So, you want to know how you’ve changed? What’s different?

And then you ask me that?’

​

He ignored her sudden entrance. He ignored his nakedness. He simply looked across at her and

nodded. ‘Yes, I need to know. I know something’s different, but I don’t know what.’ He pushed a

few soap bubbles around with his finger. ‘Would I really have wanted to get down on all fours and making pig noises.’ He looked genuinely puzzled, even shocked.

She stepped forward to the side of the bath, reached across to the ledge where his razor and shaving foam sat, and then knelt on the floor. ‘Here,’ she said, squeezing foam onto her hands, I’ll show you.’

He was neither shocked nor embarrassed. Instinctively, he sat up a little so she could easier reach his face. She gently rubbed the foam around his chin, down his neck and around his upper lip and cheeks.

She began to smoothly remove the stubble from his face. After a while he murmured. ‘Sophia.’

‘Yes, Mortimer.’

‘I apologise but my body’s reacting to your closeness and your intimate bathing of me.’

‘So, I see Mortimer.’ She rinsed the blade and carried on.

‘I’m a little embarrassed and I don’t want it to make you uncomfortable.’

‘I see.’ She rinsed the blade again. ‘Well, from what I can see, it’s you, not me, that might be a

little uncomfortable.’

‘Errr, yes, you’re probably right.’ He smiled weakly.

‘Don’t pull faces, please.’

‘Sorry.’

Sophia leaned forward to admire her handiwork. ‘Give your face a quick rinse, please.’ Mort did as

he was told and then she reached for a small towel and wiped his face. ‘Good,’ she said quietly.

‘Now, where’s a mirror.’ She looked around and noticed a small one on a stand. ‘Here.’ She passed it to Mort.

Instinctively, he put it up in front of his face to check out the shave. He stared in the mirror, his eyes widening with disbelief. ‘What’s happened?’ He turned to Sophia. He looked shocked. ‘What the…’ Hell, Sophia, what has happened?’ He looked back in the mirror.

Sophia leaned her elbows on the side of the bath, cupping her hands together and resting her

chin.

‘Does that meet with Sir’s approval?’

Mort sat motionless in the bath. Yesterday, he had come home from the pub and fallen asleep looking old, tired, and more than a little haggard; he always looked worse after his heavy drinking sessions. Yet, here now, some 12 hours later, sitting in his bath, was a youthful, healthy looking young man. He wondered if the stranger in his house was about to surprise and shock him even more.

Suddenly Sophia stood and held out a hand. He pulled himself to his feet and stood facing her.

She handed him a towel. ‘Hold that thought,’ she said and turned to leave the room. At the door she stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. ‘There is something I need to tell you, to explain as best I can. It isn’t easy to understand. Nevertheless, it’s important and it will change your life – and the lives of others.’

Mortimer Cobb, aged sixty-five, stood naked in his bath, physically aroused, and looking at least 30 years younger than he should. He felt no embarrassment about his nakedness or arousal. He

simply stood staring at the woman who had arrived in his life just the evening before and already changed it beyond belief. Now she was promising to change it even more.

‘Who are you, Sophia?’

But she was already starting down the stairs. ‘Don’t be long,’ she called back.

Chapter Four