Sun, Sea, and Sex

By Greta Horwood

The book tells of the trials and tribulations of Zeeta, who has overcome many obstacles and survived different relationships. A loving marriage led to a horrendous one. Her second marriage was to a man with a depraved sexual appetite. The sunny parts were when everything was going well. There were choppy seas between when things were not going right, not just in a relationship but in general life. Also, there were times when the sea was calm and all three women were coping well. The sex within relationships was, in the most part, good to excellent. In Zeetas second marriage, sex was a nightmare. She endured and suffered. It was happy ever after on a Caribbean island. Zeeta survived with the help of two friendsone from her school days, Sheila, and the second one was Peggy, her boss and a very good friend. Their relationships and stories are part of this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Aug 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781546280255

Greta Horwood

She was an elderly woman so she should have known better, but she did it anyway. I decided to write a book to get over a failed re-lationship. Writing helped me forget. I had been happily married for 40 years, my husband sadly died. I never expected to love again, but I did, but it was not to last. He was not the man I thought him to be.

Book preview

CHILDHOOD

My teens were normal; well, I think they were. My best friend, Sheila, and I did normal teenage things. We went to a secondary school, a newly built one, that was almost at the bottom of my parents’ garden. Stella lived a long way from this school, but it was still her nearest. Teachers were friendly, and we both stayed out of trouble at school. Well, I did. Sheila had a knack of inviting trouble; it followed her around. You can bet if there was something going on, Sheila would be in the middle; she spent more time getting herself out of trouble than actually learning from her mistakes.

We went to coffee bars, to talk and dance; we did everything together: safety in numbers. Sheila seemed obsessed with the opposite sex; she had to be pursuing a boy, any boy, one after another. Looking around, I saw other girls doing the same, so not unusual. I was the odd one out. I looked, but I was not bothered; if a boy liked me, well, okay for him. It did not trigger a reaction in me.

My parents did not encourage friends like Sheila, but they liked Andrea. Andrea’s father, Jonathan Trent, was an antique dealer with his own shop; her mother, Beth, was a PA in a huge company in London. They lived in a large, rambling old house in a hamlet, just outside of the new town where I lived.

We came to this new town from London; my father was fortunate to get a job that came with a house. That happened in those days; they wanted people to move out of London and populate the new towns. So families were encouraged to move; giving them houses was the way to go.

Andrea and her parents were nice, so my mother said, but in all the time I knew them, they never actually met. But nice people were to be encouraged, she said. Everyone in Andrea’s family had a horse. Brother Ben had one, but he never actually did anything with him. He hacked around the lanes but did not get involved in showing or jumping or even working with his horse. He just sat on him and rode. A boring young man.

Andrea lived to jump. So she schooled her horse, Tammy, and practised every day. As a friend, I came in useful. I would shift the jumps around and make new ones, like those I had seen in books. I would have loved to ride, but an inexperienced rider could ruin a horse’s mouth, said Andrea, so I was never allowed on Tammy, except to be on top, bareback, with head collar on, going down to his field. I was allowed to do this, but it was a long walk back. I spent the time dreaming what it would like to be riding him properly. Andrea spent this time cleaning Tammy’s tack or doing things to please herself. She often rearranged their rosettes, especially if she had won more at a recent show. I was a useful friend to have because I also liked to clean out the stables and do any job that involved looking after the horses. I just wanted to be near them. It was almost as good as riding them.

One Saturday, after I had done my chores at home, Andrea’s mother called for me. My parents were out, so I left a note for them. I knew it would not be a problem, as I was told to encourage the friendship with Andrea. A family outing was planned; we were going on a walk to collect blackberries and make blackberry jam the next day. By the time we arrived at the house, Andrea had gone missing. Ben said she was out on Tammy. We looked for her, but she was not in any of the fields by the house. We were wasting good blackberry picking time, said her mother, so looking for Andrea was forgotten.

What a wonderful afternoon. I got to know Ben well that day; he was not the dry, stuck-up boy I had taken him for. We laughed a lot and collected many baskets full of blackberries. We were packing up to go home when I twisted my ankle and fell in a huge puddle of muddy water. Ben laughed, with him getting told off for doing so. There was I, sitting in a puddle, splashing mud at him. His mother joined in, and soon we were all plastered in mud, laughing our heads off. Andrea’s mother was nothing like mine. My mother would have told me off for falling, and I would have been severely admonished for getting muddy and then throwing mud at Ben. Well, I hate to think what she would have said. His mother joining in, well, my mother would have never done that. It was a fun day, one I will always remember.

We arrived back at the house just as Mr Trent came home from his shop. He was immediately dispatched to my house to tell my parents I was staying the night. They were not in, so a note was left. My clothes had to be washed, I had fallen in a puddle, but they would be clean by the time I went home.

I was sent to Andrea’s bathroom, being told to use any potions or lotions I found in there. I was also told to run a deep bath; her bathroom had its own supply of hot water. Ben made his way to his part of the house, and Mrs Trent went to her suite of rooms. I had not been upstairs in the house before and was amazed at how many rooms there were. To get to some rooms, you went up stairs or down different ones. I knew I was going to get lost.

Mrs Trent came to find me. I was shown my room for the night. It was two rooms away from Andrea, so good for midnight chats, she said. My room also had its own bathroom, and a selection of lotions for my use were added to a shelf in there. I was also given a toothbrush, a hair brush, and a set of pale yellow towels. Also a bathrobe, as my clothes were in the wash. Everyone had their own coloured towels. My mother laughed when told this; more money than sense, she said. This was going to be my room for all of the weekends I would stay. I was looking forward to the next, and this one had not even started.

I never expected to be staying one night, but now this was going to be my room forever. I was excited and so pleased. Mrs Trent had planned other outings where we would be going out together. She was pleased I was interested in cooking. Andrea was only focused on Tammy and jumping. Mrs Trent loved cooking, and as I was interested, she wanted to teach me. I knew I was going to enjoy doing this.

Over dinner, I was asked which horse I was riding. I said I could not ride, so I only ever rode bareback, taking Tammy down to his field. Mrs Trent shouted Andrea’s name loudly; she looked very cross. Andrea was asked why was I not being taught to ride. I had been seen cleaning out the stables, cleaning tack, and keeping the yard clean and tidy, and she assumed I was riding, as well.

Andrea said a bad rider could ruin Tammy’s mouth, so there was no way I would ever be allowed to ride Tammy. Ben said I could ride his horse, but Mrs Trent said I should have my own, for when I came again. She was going to teach me how to ride herself. I was to be given Storm to ride. I had often looked into her stable; she was a pale dapple grey, with darker dapple grey on her rump, a small delicate head, and dark eyes, with a dark mane and tail. Sometimes, I rubbed her head if it was over the stable door. I will admit to dreaming about riding her, but she was only to be admired. I had not seen anyone riding her.

At the mention of Storm’s name, Andrea shouted, She’s mine, for when I outgrow Tammy.

Mr Trent now was cross; he said, She is your mother’s horse, and if she wants Zeeta to ride her, well, so be it.

The friendly chat around the table ceased on Andrea’s outburst; both her mother and father were cross. Ben asked if I could play chess. Yes, I could; I belonged to the chess club at school. After dinner, Ben and I played chess. Andrea was sent to her room; her father followed.

The blackberry jam was made the next morning. Andrea again was missing. In the afternoon, I had my first riding lesson on Storm. As I was so much taller than Andrea, none of her riding clothes would fit me, but I was given a neat black velvet jacket, with matching riding hat. Mrs Trent’s jodhpurs were a little long, but they were turned up and tucked into some old riding boots belonging to Ben. These were a bit big, but they were at least proper boots. I looked in the mirror and did not recognise the person standing there. I pinched myself; yes, it was me.

Mrs Trent was pleased with how my first riding lesson went; she said I had light hands and a good seat. I said I had read many books, as many as I could get my hands on, so perhaps I learnt a lot from reading books.

Andrea did not come down from her room that day. Ben had sat watching me ride and had shouted encouragement. Mr Trent also came out. His wife said for him to leave his Sunday chair and the newspapers was nothing short of a miracle. She was very pleased he was showing an interest. He had his own horse, but like Ben, he only hacked occasionally, much less than Ben. Mrs Trent did not have the time to ride, what with her job and hobbies. She loved to cook and was delighted I wanted to learn as well; she was looking