somewhere on the top

The property was ramshackle. It needed heating installed and fixing up and decorating from top to bottom. The forge itself was antiquated and hardly in working order, but Peter pointed out that it didnt need to be: most farrier work these days was mobile and done from the back of a van. Genevieve was not, like her husband, of workingclass origin. In fact, she was very minor aristocracy. Her cousin was thirtyninth in line for the throne of England. Or something. Her own family was broke, but luckily she was high enough in the social order not to give a damn about social appearances.

Had she been a little less upperclass she might have insisted on a showroom home with a touch of Regencystyle furniture. But she wasnt. Shed married so far beneath her in the social order that it couldnt be interpreted as anything but an escape and a relief. Peter knew that the decision, ultimately, was hers to make. Are we taking it Christ. Yes. So, twelve years on and just two days after Christmas, he found himself in his workshop, sorting horseshoes that didnt need sorting, just so that he wouldnt have to feel angry about Tara. Genevieve had appeared at the workshop door. Leave the sodding things, Peter. You promised yourself a week off. Come and play with the kids. Right. Coming. He clattered some shoes into a wooden box, where they rang like tuning forks. TWO DAYS LATER HE was sitting in his car outside Richies house again. This time he had taken the step of switching off his engine. It was raining. The windshield and the side windows of the car had steamed up and he had to wipe the glass to see out. Not that there was a lot to see. Peter sat there for maybe fifteen minutes. A light burned in Richies housethe same dim table lamp hed seen before, deep at the back of the house. No one seemed to move in front of it, anyway, and no one went into or out of the house.

Two years after that Peter repaid him. One beautiful summer evening, with the air smelling of sweet, newmown grass, they were playing cricket on the playground along with some younger kids. Two older s appeared, strangers, their faces creased with mischief. One of them had a stick with a rope noose at the end of it. Just for fun, just for meanness, the with the stick strolled right up to Richie and hooked the noose tight round Richies neck. Richie was brought to his knees, his face puce, struggling to breathe. Peter was holding the cricket bat. Without hesitation he stepped up to the mean youth as casually as if he were moving to the wicket and going to bat. He swung the bat hard and struck the across the ear. The s head made exactly the same pleasing sound as a cricket ball on a bat, leather on willow. The went down as if hed been shot.

Richie wore his hair very close cropped. He once had beautiful long hair, and s fell in love with its soft waves; some did, anyway, and Tara once said that it was his hair that made her fall in love with him. If the severe crop was to disguise the saltandpepper color the years had given over, it only drew attention to the bony shape of his head. His pale skin seemed stretched and taut over the skull it covered. The veins on his forehead were a little too prominent and a little too blue.

Its important your happy and not bothered so please reqiest removal from these if you wish to not get further
Wright Nieland. 222 W Lee St Mineral Springs Ar 71851-9115

	Best Gadget Ever Created
	Best Gadget Ever Created	With two very young ren it wasnt a great moment to be out of work. At the time no one could find a plumber. When he calculated out what plumbers were earning he wondered why the hell hed bothered studying for a degree in social psychology to become a chocolate salesman; and so he decided to look into retraining as a plumber. Dell and Mary were mortified. Peter had hauled himself out of the working class only to parachute right back in among it. But then Peter heard that no one could find a farrier, either, and that there was a living to be made shoeing the horses and ponies of leisure riders for anyone who had a strong back. Whats more, a local, ancient, and crusty farrier had died and his cottage was up for sale, complete with an old forge. Thats what the cottage was called: The Old Forge. So Peter, with his redundancy check in hand, put in an offer.