"I'm afraid you may never have a desk job again. Employers prefer younger people! They shouldn't - but they do. You must be more flexible".

   The man at the unemployment office had looked embarrassed. He'd still got his job. Age for age, responsibility for responsibility - the job was the only difference between us.But it was a big difference.
   In a way I really missed my desk? It was comfortable. It had been part of me for so many years. It had brought in money - just enough - to keep things going. But now it was over. Chapter closed. I was on the scrap heap. Dumped.
   Did I care? For a while I cared a lot, yes., then less. Gradually the me that was defined by a desk gave way to a me that was - freer. True the bills were overdue and there were ugly scenes.
   To be honest, I accepted the job that day just to show willing. Of course the pay was a joke - £10 in a day, if I was lucky.
   But, once out in the fresh air, somehow it just didn't seem to matter any more. The world seemed full of possibilities; unexplained, undecided and only just round the corner. The country air felt fresh in my lungs, the sun beamed down and my whole body tingled with anticipation. I had not felt so good for years.
   The  heavy satchel on my unfit shoulders seemed light as a feather. The twisting country lane stretched out invitingly in front of me with its high hedge bordered with a riot of white throated fox gloves, sweet scented creamy honeysuckle and pink campion. Songs from hidden birds in the hedgerow crowded the country air, lifting me up, leading me on.
   Just a small country lane - but for me it held the promise of new and better futures. Each stride pushed memories of bitter setbacks into the past and brought with it the promise of a few pennies in earnings.
   It would have been easy to miss the flash of light. But it caught my eye through a gap in the hedgerow and, once noticed, it couldn't be ignored. Intriguingly, it glinted in the sun like an urgent signal.
   I paused by the half open gate and looked down the path into an overgrown garden to a cottage. It had a wasted and secluded appearance, rather forlorn. It didn't look occupied. The thatch was patched, paint was peeling and the crumbling plaster walls seemed to have been repaired over many years with whatever came to hand.
   A border of red peonies and poppies crowded the path that seemed to draw me  towards the trellis porch and the weathered wooden front door.
   Parting the thickly climbing green ivy, I found the hole in the broken window and through it could just see an austere hall. It looked old fashioned and uninviting. There was a single upright chair and a worn carpet. The hole in the window was big enough for a child to climb through and there were signs of glass trodden underfoot on the inside.
   "Can I help you?" I froze.
   Her voice was low with a musical lilt. A trace of Ireland or Wales.
   Completely embarrassed, I felt like a youngster caught pilfering. Her look was quizzical, inquiring. Brown shoulder length hair was tied back into a single ponytail.
   Soft wisps of hair framed a gentle face. She was slightly built with a simple belted cotton dress that brushed her knees. Brown arms were folded around plain white rumpled sheets, just dried and collected from a clothes line. Her eyes were pale blue - wary. A housewife going about her everyday chores, a routine suddenly disturbed ... possibly threatened.
   I stumbled over my apology. No intention to intrude... just passing...saw the broken window... first day in this area ... only wanted to help ... not wishing to pry or invade privacy ... I felt flustered, stupid. All I wanted was to escape back to the security of the road outside.
   "Would you like a cup of tea?"
   A calm question? More a command. It stopped my explanations dead.
   She didn't wait for a reply but passed close by me, pushed open the front door and disappeared inside leaving a delicate scent of lavender in her wake.