Chapter 1

For the last two months I've been working on a process that presented more than the usual headaches. I'm an industrial chemist and specialise in concept applications. For an example, if a client wants an adhesive that will hold together at minus forty degrees C, we will develop it and then manufacture and supply it.

My latest project was a curly one to say the least. Our client wanted a fabric that wouldn't stain, that was no problem, the bug bear was the need to print a logo on the material. We eventually came up with a dye that would etch into the fabric without destroying the integrity of it; and then a fixative to set it.

With the client happy with the results, we were then into production mode. I decided to take a few days off to unwind. I threw a few bits and pieces into my car and headed off.

The hill country had always been a magnet to me, my late parents often took a jaunt that wended it's way through quiet villages; so that's where I set my course.

When my father passed away from the big C, mother felt she had no more to live for and just chucked the towel in. She was gone eighteen months later, leaving me to be brought up by my aunt.

My parents, both industrial chemists, had started the company I now part own. My aunt, also a chemist took over the reins and today still runs the business. Aunt was a big influence in my becoming an industrial chemist, insisting I work hard to achieve my doctorate. I did my thesis on dendritic polymers.

It was agreed to keep my role in the company as senior technician, I didn't want the employees to know I was the owner, Aunt Sybil was the apparent owner and that suited me fine; she made all the day to day decisions and I only got involved in the odd major ones.

My name by the way is Tony Martin, occasionally someone calls me Doc Martin which I tend to frown on, I don't make boots and I'm not an actor in that Pommy sitcom. I just prefer to be called Tony.

I decided to take a circuitous path, starting at the furthest point and then working my way back home. I planned to be away at least two nights, probably stopping in some pub for the night.

I could feel the stress leaving my body the further away from home I travelled. At this time of the year the fields were still green and lush; the hills attracted the rain and kept everything growing long after the valley started to dry off. My first night I stopped in a small town and enjoyed a home cooked meal in the local pub. The food was excellent so I enquired about a room for the night.

After breakfast the following morning I continued my jaunt, taking in the scenery. Around about lunch time I started to look for somewhere to buy a meal. I found a small village that boasted a café cum estate agent, so I pulled into the parking space and went inside. I decided on a cooked meal. As I was waiting I looked at the for sale posters; one caught my eye. The picture displayed a comfortable looking house with the paddocks rolling down to a sizable creek, there was considerable shedding and the advert indicated it had been a riding school. Intrigued I asked the agent about the property.

The riding school belonged to a Mr and Mrs Findlay, when Mr Findlay passed away the place was allowed to run down until eventually Mrs Findlay decided it was too much for her to handle and moved into a unit in town. The property was rented out to a lady who started the riding school up again, she was just making things work when Mrs Findlay died. When her son inherited the place he decided to put the rent up, this threw a spanner into the works for the lady trying to run the riding school. He then decided to put the property on the market.

"So is this lady still in residence? Does the sale include vacant procession?"

"Sally was hoping the new owner would consider renting the place to her, or at least the stables and paddocks. That would need to be talked about if the sale went through."

"I must admit I'm a bit intrigued, I would like to have a look at the place. Mind you this is more on a whim than anything."

"If you are a serious client I can take you out to view the property. You realise that the asking price isn't cheap, without being offensive, can you afford to pay for it?"

"Mmm? Oh, there's no problem there, can we go after I've eaten my lunch?"

"I'll give Sally a ring and let her know we are coming. Don't be too surprised if she seems a bit standoffish, she has a lot riding on the place."

"OK, I'll try to be as diplomatic as I can when we meet her."

...

I followed the agent the short drive to the property and as we approached it I liked what I saw. The photo of the house didn't do it justice. The place was well maintained as was the garden, this Sally had put a lot of effort in looking after the property.

We drove in the gate to the excited barking of dogs. An attractive lady approached the cars and the agent introduced us. I commented on how neat the place looked and that it was a credit to her. Although she was hesitant she gave a quick smile at my compliment.

"Before I show you around Mr Martin, how serious are you about buying the property?"

"As I told Mr Potter here, I'm acting on a whim, if I like what I see there is a strong possibility I will buy the place. I didn't set out to buy anything but this place caught my eye and I'm definitely interested."

"OK, if you do buy, would you consider renting it out to me?"

"I'm not putting you off, but I would like some time to consider what I'm doing here, as I said I acting on a whim."