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Chapter 1 - Lusting For Leather
The crisp dried detritus of leaves and twigs crackled invitingly beneath Stephanie's feet as she trod the thickness of the forest floor. It was pleasantly cool here - a welcome dappled shade from the earlier blistering heat of the day. Emerging into a small glade, she walked over a thick carpet of soft grass decorated here and there with moss-strewn rocks. The air was sweet, enlivened by birdsong.

The light was beautiful at this time of day, with the late afternoon sun spinning a magical web of amber through the surrounding trees. She paused and tilted her face upwards, eyes closed, feeling the fading golden warmth of the sun and listening to the sounds of small woodland creatures scurrying in the undergrowth.

These walks usually brought her a sense of quiet contentment; but today was different. Why? She mused, burrowing into the secret places of her mind, and realised that there was something missing from her life. But what? She was happy in her work, had plenty of money, a nice house, good friends and a string of ardent admirers. So what was it, this elusive thing, and how could she possibly find it if she didn't know what it was?

So deep was she in her thoughts that the first drops of rain passed by without notice. When she suddenly realised her clothes were damp and small rivulets of water were trickling down her face, she paused and looked around her. The light had changed and dimmed, and the earlier clear blue skies had vanished as the grey rain clouds descended. A wind sprang up from the west, making the tree branches sway.

Sighing, she turned and rejoined the woodland path, shivering a little now as the sky had darkened considerably. The splats of rain fell hard and fast and the wind chilled her to the bone. Now the heavens truly opened, releasing a torrent of water. Stephanie quickened her pace, cursing at her lack of foresight to check the weather forecast before setting out, or at least to have worn suitable clothing. Her waterlogged open-toed sandals squelched with every step, and her toes were icy cold.

The whole atmosphere of the wood had changed. What had been light and welcoming was now ominously dark and threatening. Water pooled beneath her feet as she waded through mud and teeming water. The rain bounced down from a leaden sky, obscuring her vision. In the distance could be heard the first low rumble of thunder. In her haste to get home, she half-walked and half-ran the last half mile. Once out of the wood, her progress was a little quicker. Puffing and panting and completely drenched, her feet sploshed through the giant puddles rapidly accumulating on the pavement. Her house was in sight. Almost home.

A sleek black car purred softly to a halt close to her front gate. The driver switched off the headlamps and windscreen wipers, opened the door, and stepped out into the teeming rain.

Recruiting
Natalie watched from the stands. This England side were good, very good, probably the best for a generation. They were beating Germany easily, already they were three goals up, and if this penalty corner came off, they would be in an unassailable position. It was a pleasure to watch a national side doing well at last. However, it wasn't the team she had come to watch; but rather one man, the man now taking the strike. He was a compact, slightly built man, his fair hair cut short to his scalp, an athletic man, an attractive man. But Natalie was not concerned with his looks, it was his skill she was after. She needed a hockey coach, and needed one urgently.

Her school was through to the semi-final of the national championships and just when they needed to be preparing hardest, her hockey coach had, with utmost bad-timing, chosen that week to suffer a debilitating heart attack. She could hardly blame the woman, it wasn't her fault, but it did leave the school with rather a problem. Natalie had staked her reputation as headmistress on winning success, in every area, and even on the sports field her ambition was relentless. And so she was here, watching Mark Thorne, seeing if he had what she wanted. She could have gone for a woman, but all of the national women's teams were hopeless right now, and she only wanted the best. For Natalie McInnes and for Burnside College, only the best was ever good enough. That was why she had taken the trouble to find out who on the England team was available at short notice - and Mark Thorne was the name that kept coming up. Natalie cheered with the rest of the crowd as the corner was converted into another goal for the home side.

Mark showered leisurely after the match, suffused with the happy glow of victory and making the most of the feeling while it lasted. Hockey was the only thing that made life worthwhile at the moment. Since leaving the army eighteen months ago, things had been a struggle. He had hoped he would walk into a management job but somehow his face didn't ever seem to fit. The skills of an infantry officer were not what firms were looking for. Sure, he could lead a company of men in a night attack on a well defended enemy position, and bring off victory with minimal casualties. Sure, he could handle a variety of weapon systems. Sure, he could live rough for days on end and still motivate his troops. But these were not the abilities that commercial organisations were looking for. And besides that, he didn't have the slickness and false charm of some of the other candidates. Mark said what he meant, and he said it directly. That's the way it was done in the army; in the civilian world he felt like a fish out of water. Except on the hockey field, there he felt like a god.

Chapter 1 - A New Broom
The car moved slowly up the drive to Collingwood's, a small but expensive private school in the south of England. Eventually it reached the front of the imposing stone building that housed the main part of the school and, after a brief pause, was parked in one of the spaces marked 'staff'. A minute or so passed and then the driver got out and looked at the building for a brief moment or two before walking to the steps that led up to the main door. The driver was a tallish, slim and elegantly dressed lady with dark hair cut just off the shoulder and with a pleasant open face that looked as if it would rather smile than frown. Reaching the door she pushed it open and entered the building. Then she paused and looked around as if not quite sure what to do next. Just then a door opened and another lady appeared.

"Pamela! It's good to see you! Punctual as always I see! Come through this way and let me take your coat."

Pamela Jameson followed the other lady through an office and into a large study.

"It's good to see you too Julia. I never expected that we would meet again so soon."

Julia Maclean was Headmistress of Collingwood's. Still in her late 30s she was relatively young, to hold the position which she had taken up some six months earlier. During that time she had discovered that there were a number of problems at her new school and after some serious negotiations with the Board of Governors she had persuaded them to allow her existing Deputy to take early retirement with a view to recruiting a new, more dynamic replacement. She hoped that Pamela Jameson, who had been her Assistant at her previous establishment, would be that person. When she telephoned Pamela to persuade her to apply she had said,

"This is a very good school with a very similar outlook on education and discipline to Edmonstone's. The girls generally come from a very high quality background - we even have a number of minor Royals, both British and European. The problem is that the discipline has gone to hell. My predecessor let things slip very badly and the Governors are very concerned. They are getting a lot of complaints from parents and a number have even withdrawn their daughters. They want something done about it - and quickly before the roll starts falling further. My existing Deputy is simply not up to the job that is required and is leaving so I need somebody to come in and take charge of the discipline. The school is too big for all that to fall on the Head. I really ought to be the last resort on discipline matters."

The reference to discipline was significant as Pamela had been involved jointly with the Head in such matters in her previous post and that had included the administration of corporal punishment which was now unheard of in state schools.

Jessica Lawson was annoyed as she zoomed through the parking lot of the nursing home and whipped her BMW convertible into an open space. The twenty-year-old woman had expected to be at the beach with her friends by now, and was impatient at the delay. But when her grandfather called and specifically requested her to visit at eleven o'clock today for a meeting with someone, she could hardly refuse. After all, he was one who funded her carefree lifestyle, and she hadn't visited him lately. Jessica experienced a twinge of guilt when she realized she couldn't remember the last time she had taken time out of her schedule to visit the old man. Her life was just so busy, it was hard to find the time. And besides, the nursing home was depressing.

Jessica had been orphaned at the age of thirteen when her parents were killed in a car accident, and had lived with her grandfather until she was eighteen. But the first day she was able, she had moved into her own apartment to gain privacy and freedom. She knew her grandfather loved her, but he was just too old-fashioned. She had to get out on her own. Well, on her own except for the generous allowance he provided. Why should she work or go to school when she had a wealthy grandfather to provide for her? Life was a party!

"Jessica! It's good to see you," her grandfather exclaimed as she entered his room. "You remember my old friend, Donald Parker, and this is his son, Daniel."

Daniel Parker kept his face impassive as he sized up the attractive young woman. She had a nice trim figure and the light brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders was streaked with lighter shades of blonde. Her cute face belied the self-centered vanity he'd heard his Dad discussing with Jessica's grandfather.

"Hi Granddad." Jessica was startled to see how weak and frail he looked. He had been fairly healthy when she had moved out on her own, but became ill and had to move to the nursing home shortly thereafter. She nodded at the other two men in the room. She hadn't met Dan Parker, but remembered his father Don, and resented him. Many years ago, he had served under her grandfather in the army and had once saved his life. The young soldier had become almost a second son to the older man. Jessica had been shocked when her grandfather told her he was leaving a sizeable portion of his estate to Don. As his only living relative, she had expected to receive everything.

Jessica glanced briefly at Daniel. He looked a lot like his father, but appeared to be in his twenties, not much older than she. She thought him attractive, and her eyes automatically flicked toward his left hand as she noted there was no wedding band. But when she looked back at his face, she thought she noticed a trace of disapproval as he and his father returned the nod.

Off the Beaten Track
Diana sat contentedly at the kitchen table, enjoying the relaxing feeling of warmth that seeped through her body following a bout of riotous lovemaking. And while her sated partner lay sleeping upstairs, Diana sipped from a cup of coffee long since grown cold as she cast her mind back to the day she found this remote place. She had literally stumbled upon it by accident one afternoon. On her way to see a friend in Buxton, she had a sudden impulse to detour along the scenic roads up and down the undulating hills. She drove through numerous little villages, past farms and grazing pastures and arrived eventually at a small hamlet consisting of a row of cottages. At the end of the row was a pub, 'The Green Man', its namesake staring out from the ancient hand painted sign, features blurring into leaves peering outward from behind a mottled screen of vines and leaves. She pulled up, smiling to herself; how reassuringly British to find a pub hidden away in this rural backwater. It did look inviting though, with its white walls sheathed by the thick vines of an ancient wisteria, sunshine yellow paintwork on the windows and door, and a small well manicured beer garden round the side, gaily decked with green wrought-iron tables, big shady green parasols and cushioned chairs. A stocky dark-haired man sauntered out from the beer garden. He carried a tray on which stood a lone empty glass. Glancing in her direction he grinned and gave a friendly wave. She waved back, then drove away, resisting the temptation to pop in for a long cool drink.

Continuing on the road past the pub she noticed a For Sale sign in the hedgerow, with an arrow pointing further ahead. Nonchalantly curious, she carried on the road for a mile or so, driving through a canopy of trees, their branches entwined to form an arch above the single track road. At the point the road became rough shale and began its ascent, she could see the house in the distance, perched in a fold of the hill. Greystones. It welcomed her from its elevated position, mullioned windows winking in the sunlight, and solid blocks of grey stone sparkling as they caught the light.

She drove up to the house. The For Sale sign hanging over the garden wall had another sign slapped across it saying Vacant Possession. It wasn't as though she was contemplating buying a house, never mind one in the middle of nowhere - but there was something about this place that called to her. There would be no harm in having a closer look. So, with mounting excitement, she paused in front of a pair of heavy metal wrought-iron gates. They were beautifully sculpted featuring forged scrolls and delicate leaves. Jumping out of the car, she unfastened the catch and pushed the gates open. The expanse of drive beyond beckoned. She walked up the garden path. Whoever had lived here before had maintained the garden well.