Life Back Home

"Hello? Mon? I'm home, darling. I've missed you so mu..."

Rhiannon stopped speaking as she almost tripped over two large suitcases that were sitting side by side in the hallway. They looked very familiar.

There was the sound of a door opening upstairs, and as Rhiannon looked slowly up the staircase, she saw Monica coming downstairs, pulling on a dressing gown as she did so.

"So you've finally deigned to come home, have you?" she sneered. "Not a fucking word for two days, and then you breeze in here as if you own the fucking place!"

"I tried to phone several times," replied Rhiannon, in a hoarse whisper. "But the phone was always..."

"Monica, darling, come back to bed," came a voice from upstairs. "You promised me a damn good fucking with that delicious looking strap-on!"

Monica had the grace to blush.

"I wasn't expecting you," she confessed. "We need to talk, but not now. It's not convenient. I've packed your things as you can see. I want you out of here, Rhiannon. We're finished."

Rhiannon looked at her girlfriend.

"I love you," she whispered. "I thought that you loved me too."

Monica sneered.

"Love?" she spat. "Love is for hopeless romantics. What I love is sex. And lately you haven't been very good at putting out. Face it, Rhiannon. You're just a needy submissive lesbian, for whom a good thrashing is necessary before you get wet. Well, you've gone over my knee for the last time. Get out, and take your needs back home to your homophobic mother. Maybe she'll spank you if you ask her nicely."

Monica started back up the stairs. She stopped halfway and turned around and spoke again.

"Oh, I nearly forgot. There's a hand delivered letter that came for you this morning. It's on the kitchen table. You can leave your keys there when you pick it up."

And with that, she turned on her heel and went back upstairs.

"I hope you're ready for me, Stephie," she called. "I'm going to strap on and fuck you till you squirt!"

Rhiannon walked slowly into the kitchen. As Monica had said, there on the kitchen table was an expensive looking envelope, and when Rhiannon picked it up, it felt heavy in her hand. She looked at the typed address, and it registered with her that her academic qualifications had been included after her surname. This intrigued her, so she sat down and looked at the envelope thoughtfully. The words "By hand" had been typed and underlined in red in the top right hand corner, where a stamp would normally have been stuck had the letter come through the post.

It seemed a shame to rip open such a handsome envelope, so Rhiannon retrieved a knife from the kitchen drawer, sat back down and slit her envelope open carefully. Inside was a single sheet of paper, which she extracted, unfolded and began to read.

The piece of paper had the school logo at the top, and was dated yesterday.

"Dear Ms. Pritchard," she read. "It has come to the attention of the school governors that you were absent without leave today, Friday 13th of June. You were contracted to accompany a party of Year Nine pupils to the outdoor adventure camp in north Wales this weekend.

We, as governors, are concerned that your unauthorised absence had to be brought to our attention by the leader of this expedition, your colleague, Mr. StJohn Howe, who has had to make last minute arrangements to have you replaced. Thankfully, he was able to make these arrangements, and the party left for their weekend camp on time.

However, you are in breach of contract by your unauthorised absence. We have no alternative but to suspend you, without pay, from school for a week, commencing Monday 16th of June. Please do not attend any school premises, or attempt to communicate with any staff, pupils or governors during your period of suspension.

Please note a disciplinary panel will be set up with regard to your unauthorised absence, which you will be expected to attend. You will be informed in due course of the location, date and time of this interview. You will be entitled to bring a Union representative to support any mitigating claims you might have to justify your unauthorised absence.

Yours sincerely,

Hilda Smythe

(Chair of Governors)"

Rhiannon's bottom lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. Suspended! Breach of contract! The phrases swam in front of her tear filled eyes. All this on top of the fact that she'd just lost her mother, and quarrelled with Monica. She suddenly became aware of a rhythmic squeaking coming from upstairs, and as the sound registered in her confused brain, it was accompanied by a loud banging and then some muffled moaning. It took only a few seconds for Rhiannon to realise what was going on. After all, she'd been present when similar sounds had come from Monica's bedroom before. Monica was fucking someone else in their bed!

Slowly, Rhiannon got to her feet. She was utterly defeated. Suspended, dumped, homeless and now an orphan. Life really couldn't get any worse, she thought to herself. She left her house keys on the kitchen table and taking her letter with her, she picked up her two suitcases from the hall and put them in the boot of her car. She closed the front door quietly, not wishing to disturb Monica and her new lover, and got back behind the wheel of her car.

"Come on, Rhiannon," she muttered to herself, "let's go home. There's a corner shop in your village that needs a new proprietor."

**************************************** TEN DAYS LATER *********************************************

It was the day after Rachel-Ann's funeral. Rhiannon woke as her alarm clock rudely dragged her from the depths of an exhausted sleep. She switched it off, and got slowly out of bed.

Still half asleep, she stumbled to the bathroom and squatted on the toilet to pee. Then she got into the shower, and turned it on. Hot water cascaded down and she began to soap herself. Slowly, she started to feel more human.

"Well girl," she told herself, "Mam's been laid to rest, and you don't have a job any more. Rhiannon had attended her disciplinary hearing, and after explaining her absence, she'd had high hopes of being reinstated as a teacher. But Rupert StJohn Howe had exaggerated the difficulties that he said had arisen due to Miss Pritchard's absence, and the panel had sided with him and dismissed Rhiannon.

"Now is as good a time as any to practice your shop keeping skills," Rhiannon told herself sternly. "Thank goodness you used to help mam in the shop at weekends and during the school holidays before you left the village to go to University."

Memories came flooding back of her time at University and what had gone on since then. She and Ffion, her secret girlfriend, had vowed to keep in touch, but Rhiannon was going to Bangor, in north Wales to study, whilst Ffion was due to go to Exeter. They phoned one another and emailed regularly at first, but then University life took over, and they lost touch.

Then, one night whilst on a French department trip to London to see Les Miserables, Rhiannon had met Monica. They clicked instantly, and for the next three years, Rhiannon spent every weekend in the nurses' hall of residence with Monica, who was Head of HR at the teaching hospital there.

When she graduated, Rhiannon applied for a job in a school in Surrey and was accepted. Monica re-located to another hospital, and they moved in together to a house that Monica bought.

Rhiannon's skin was getting wrinkled. She turned off the shower and began to towel herself dry. When she'd dried herself she put on her dressing gown and went downstairs to put the kettle on to boil. Whilst she waited for that, she made herself a couple of slices of toast.

Sitting at the kitchen table, she heard a furious knocking at the front door, and she hurried to see who was there so early in the morning.

It was a middle aged man, dressed in a brown work coat, and he didn't look happy.

"Bloody shop door's locked!" he spat before Rhiannon had a chance to say anything.

"Well we don't open until half past eight," she managed to say, but the man was having none of it.

"I was told that this place was re-opening today," he grumbled. "I've brought the papers. Rachel Ann was always waiting for me. And she'd always offer a cuppa too! She knew I'm on a tight schedule. This isn't the only shop I deliver the papers to, you know!"

Rhiannon blushed.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I'm new here. I'll open the shop for you now."

She heard a muttered "About fucking time! Bloody youngsters!" as she closed the front door, and hurried through the house to unlock the front door of the shop. When she did so, she found a bound bundle of daily newspapers waiting on the doorstep. Of the angry man, there was no sign.

Rhiannon sighed and picked up the heavy bundle. She put them on the shop counter, and found a scissors to cut the binding tape that held them all together. Forgetting her half eaten breakfast, Rhiannon began to set the newspapers out ready for customers to choose their favourite source of news and gossip.

She had her back to the front door as she sorted the papers, so when the bell sounded to indicate that someone had come into the shop, she said automatically without turning round, "We're not open yet, I'm sorry."

"But the door was open," replied a voice, "and I'm in a bit of a hurry. I only want a tin of tobacco. Could you not make an exception just this once?"

Rhiannon turned round to see a rather tall, well built woman standing in the middle of the shop. She was wearing a rather severe looking jacket and skirt, and had virtually no make up on her face. Her thick chestnut coloured hair was beautifully coiffured, and sat on her shoulders in a halo of curls. Rhiannon felt her nipples harden, and she managed to paste a smile on her face, conscious of the fact that her dressing gown was rather flimsy. She thanked her lucky stars that she'd done all the buttons up, because she was totally naked underneath the dressing gown.

"I'm sorry. This is my first day opening," Rhiannon mumbled, blushing furiously. "I'm minding the shop following the death of my mother. I'm in a bit of a panic, really. I only opened up because the newspaper delivery man brought the papers."

The stranger stepped forward and took Rhiannon's hand.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," she said with a sincere smile. "I'm new to the village. I've been appointed as the head of the village school, and I'm taking this opportunity to visit today. As it's nearly the end of the school year, I thought I'd take the opportunity to meet the staff and the children before I start in September."

Rhiannon was now conscious of a distinct tingling between her legs. This woman, who was still holding her hand, was quite attractive, she thought. And she was a school teacher! Rhiannon shook her head and banished all thoughts of teaching from her head.

"I'm Rhiannon," she managed to say. "I've come home for mam's funeral, and I've taken some time off from my own school to sort a few things out," she lied.

"Now what was it you asked for? A tin of tobacco?"

"That's right," smiled the customer. "Stupidly, I brought my pipe, but I left my tobacco pouch on the kitchen table! And yes, before you ask, I obviously do smoke a pipe. Why some people find that odd I simply don't know. My name's Olwen, by the way. Olwen Simpson."

She offered her hand once more, and Rhiannon took it and shook it warmly.

"Pleased to meet you, Olwen," she smiled, clenching her thighs together. "I don't find it odd that you smoke a pipe. I'm a cigar girl myself, so I get the occasional odd look too!"

She handed over a tin of the tobacco that Olwen had indicated, conscious of the fact that she was blushing again, and her nipples were brushing up against the cotton of her dressing gown and causing two lumps in the flimsy material. If she noticed the effect that she was having on the younger woman, Olwen Simpson was too polite to say anything.

"Odd looks don't bother me," smiled Olwen. "I don't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks of me. I do as I like, and if anyone doesn't approve, then tough. Thanks for the tobacco, by the way. How much do I owe you?"

Rhiannon turned around to see if the price was displayed anywhere near stack of tobacco. It wasn't. She realised that she didn't have a clue of the price of anything in the shop.

"Um... you've got me there," she admitted. "I don't have a clue! In fact, unless anything has a price tag on it, I don't know what it costs. Have the tobacco on me, and enjoy your smoke."

Olwen Simpson looked at the young shop keeper and smiled.

"You'll be bankrupt by this time next week if you carry on like this," she smiled. "But thank you. When we move here, I'll make sure to do all my tobacco shopping here. Must dash. It won't look good if the new head teacher is late for her inspection!"

After her first customer had gone, Rhiannon locked the shop door again and went through to her kitchen. Her tea was cold and her half eaten piece of toast now resembled a curled up piece of linoleum. She set about making herself a second breakfast.

"Just like Bilbo Baggins in 'The Hobbit'. He used to have second breakfasts too. And he smoked a pipe!" she thought to herself.

For the rest of the day, Rhiannon served a handful of customers, but spent most of her time pricing everything from the invoices she found underneath the counter of the shop. Her mother might have had symptoms of dementia, but she seemed to have been on top of everything as far as record keeping was concerned.

Rhiannon was just thinking of closing up when the door bell tinkled again, and she looked up. It was Olwen Simpson.

"Back so soon?" she smiled. "Don't tell me you need more tobacco already?"

Olwen smiled and shook her head.

"I'm in trouble," she said. "I've had a look around the school. The staff and pupils seem very friendly. I think I'm going to enjoy being the head of the village school."

"So what's the problem?" asked Rhiannon.

"Have you got five minutes to spare?" Olwen asked, looking at her wristwatch. "I've heard all about you and your late mother from some of the teachers. I'd like to put a proposition to you, if you don't mind?"

"Well that sounds interesting," replied Rhiannon. "I was just about to shut up shop anyway. Give me a couple of minutes, and I'll make us both a cup of tea. Go through into the house. It's nice and cool in the kitchen. I won't be too long."

When she had locked up and turned the lights off, Rhiannon went through to the kitchen. Olwen Simpson was sitting at the kitchen table, with a beautifully carved pipe in her mouth. She was surrounded by sweet smelling smoke, and Rhiannon felt her clit twitch as she watched the older woman drawing on her pipe and blowing her smoke into the air.

"Sorry to keep you," she apologised. "Now, let's get the kettle on and we'll have a cuppa and you can tell me what your proposition is."

"I rang your school today," Olwen said softly, her words wreathed in aromatic pipe smoke. "You haven't just taken a few days off, have you?"

Rhiannon gulped, and busied herself with tea making activities.

"How did you know which school to ring?" she asked timidly.

"Oh that was easy," replied Olwen. "This is a very small village, remember. Everyone remembers that you left to go to University under something of a cloud. You and your girlfriend were notorious all those years ago."

"It's not illegal to be a lesbian," retorted Rhiannon sharply, "and you didn't answer my question. How did you know which school to ring?"

"How many fee-paying schools do you think there are in the town in Surrey where Gwenno Evans phoned you?" Olwen replied.

Rhiannon was confused.

"You know Gwenno?" she asked, "and you've spoken to her?"

Olwen shook her head.

"No, and no," she smiled, "but everyone knows that Gwenno phoned you to tell you the news about your mother. It was easy to get someone who does know her to get Gwenno to tell her the telephone number of the school she phoned earlier in the week. I spoke to your Head Teacher. Or your ex-Head Teacher I should say."

Rhiannon slumped onto a chair and put her arms on the kitchen table. She looked at Olwen.

"I'm not a bad person," she said in a low voice. "I left here having quarrelled with my mother because I was with Monica. I thought we loved one another, but when push came to shove, I wanted to be with mam when she was ill."

"I let my pupils and my colleagues down," she continued, "but in similar circumstances, I'd do exactly the same again. Except I'd probably let them know what I was doing, so that I could go back to a job I love, and still have a home with Monica too."

"Do you love her?" asked Olwen.

"I thought I did," admitted Rhiannon, "but she's fucking someone else now. I'll never go back to her, or to teaching, it seems."

"Never say never," smiled Olwen. "I'll be back here in a fortnight, when term finishes. I'll be house hunting. But I'll be looking for a new member of staff too. It seems that one of my new colleagues is not only pregnant, she's moving to Canada in a month with her husband, who has got a job in Ontario. Something the school governors didn't mention at my interview, although they knew perfectly well that Kate had put her resignation in. If you wanted to apply for the vacant post..."

There was silence in the kitchen, and Olwen smoked her pipe and looked at Rhiannon.

"Do you think you can get someone to mind the shop for you if you apply for the job?" she asked.

Rhiannon smiled and shook her head.

"I'm not primary school trained," she said sadly. "I teach secondary school children, and anyway, even I know that you might be the new head, but you'll need the governor's approval to appoint a new staff member."

Olwen got to her feet and winked at Rhiannon.

"I'll see you in a fortnight," she said. "I'll probably need more tobacco by then. Think about what I've just said. I don't like being told 'no' when I offer something."

She offered her hand to Rhiannon, who took it and the two women shook hands.

"I'll see myself out," Olwen smiled. "And I'll see you in a fortnight. Don't disappoint me again, or I'll be very cross. And believe me, you don't want to make me cross."

When her visitor had gone, Rhiannon sat in the kitchen and replayed the strange interview in her mind. What on earth had just happened?

To be continued...