Just over a year had passed since Johnny Preston, the boy I loved more than anything in the world had deflowered me on the beach then left me.

In a surge of unexpected and uncontrolled passion that had stunned us both, my closest childhood friend had passionately taken my virginity in the sandy grass then, less than an hour later, had left the village for two years’ training with a Corporate Finance Company in London.

It had been the first time since the age of four that Johnny and I had been apart and, even without the emptiness of losing my first lover, it would have hurt badly!

Robyn and Jonathan had been separated.

Robbie and Johnny were apart.

Robin had lost her Batman.

In truth, our copulation had been completely unplanned, unexpected and I suspect had been as much a shock for Johnny as it had for me, though the physical consequences of losing my virginity had been quite different. Afterwards, in true Tomboy Robbie style, I had pretended it hadn’t mattered; that it was just two good friends getting a bit carried away in the emotion of his departure and going a bit too far.

But that hadn’t been true. That hadn’t been true at all; I had been in love with Johnny most of our lives. He was the only boy for me; the only boy I could ever love; the only boy worthy of claiming my virginity.

And now he had taken it; wherever in the world he went, I was his and he was mine!

For this reason, the news of Johnny’s engagement to a woman I hadn’t even heard of hit me like bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky. The first inkling came from social media but it was soon confirmed by his parents. Johnny had met a girl called Jackie, had fallen in love with her, moved in with her and now they were going to get married.

I was horrified; my Johnny was marrying someone else; someone who wasn’t me?

This was impossible! Unbearable! I immediately set off to find out all I could about the new love in his life.

Using social media with an intensity I had never known before, I cyber-stalked his new fiancée Jackie, quickly learning that she was a freelance graphic designer who came from a rich family and who had been working in the office next to his. Though nearly ten years older than him, you would never have guessed it from her pictures; she was a tall, slender, very metropolitan girl in her thirties with long, wavy blonde hair and a fit, athletic figure.

I had to admit in her pictures she looked sophisticated and absolutely stunning. The two of them looked perfect together.

In my camouflage jeans and T shirt, I felt simply outclassed.

According to his parents who still lived next door to mine, the two love birds had met one lunch time through mutual friends and had fallen in love almost at first sight. The engagement had come after only three months with the intention of getting married a few months after that.

Johnny’s parents thought it was all a bit too rushed and that Jackie was perhaps a bit older than ideal but had to admit that she was ‘a lovely girl’ and that they both seemed very much in love.

Needless to say, I cried myself to sleep in for several nights; in secret of course – Tomboy Robbie didn’t cry, did she?

We were, of course, all invited to the wedding; a very smart affair in a London registry office with a superb dinner afterwards in a restaurant overlooking the Thames.

Despite our best efforts – even I was rather uncomfortably wearing a dress instead of my usual jeans and T-shirt - all of us from the village felt overawed and intimidated both by our surroundings, by the bride’s expensive, sophisticated appearance and by her equally intimidating friends.

I was disappointed to see that Johnny seemed very much at home in his new, urban environment.

You cannot imagine how painful it was for me to sit quietly in the Registry Office and watch the only man I had ever loved getting married to someone else. But of course, as Tomboy Robbie I couldn’t possibly show either emotion or weakness and when the time came, I greeted my victorious rival with all the warmth and sincerity I could pretend.

To my surprise, Jackie greeted me with genuine warmth in return saying how much Johnny had told her about me and how she hoped so badly that the two of us would be become good friends.

I thought that was unlikely but didn’t say so. Instead I waved enthusiastically as they headed off on honeymoon, trying not to imagine the two of them in bed together as newly-weds.

Unsurprisingly, Johnny and my correspondence dwindled yet further.

***

It was a year after the wedding when Johnny’s first big City Bonus came through and he and Jackie bought Fiddler’s Cottage in our village. On banking scales, the bonus was trivial compared with the millions earned by the Bank’s dealers but for such a young man it was a life-changing amount.

His decision to buy and renovate the historic but nearly derelict Fiddler’s Cottage close to the seafront was met with almost universal praise by family and friends alike. Apart from improving a local eyesore, locals said openly that it proved the young lad hadn’t forgotten his roots though it was believed his rich, London-born wife was less keen on the idea.

Whatever her views were, they didn’t prevent the sale going through and within days the Cottage was theirs. A brief period of intensive renovation took place then the couple arrived for their first big visit, announcing their intention to spend most weekends there to get away from the stresses of the Big City.

As you can imagine again, it was unspeakably painful for me to see my beloved Johnny ‘playing houses’ with his pretty wife, the look on his face showing just how deeply in love he was. I tried hard not to be alone with him or even with them both but it wasn’t always possible, especially as I still worked in the village’s only pub.

They looked the perfect couple as they walked along the seafront hand in hand; the tall, athletic, handsome husband with his slender, blonde, beautifully-dressed wife. Although they looked somewhat out of place among the village’s ancient residents, they looked so right together that my heart ached and I had to work extra hours in the pub to keep my mind occupied.

But however out of place they might have looked, to my surprise and hers, metropolitan Jackie fell in love with Fiddler’s Cottage on that very first weekend.

“It’s the perfect place for me to do my creative work,” she told me in the pub one Sunday lunchtime before the two of them returned to their Docklands flat. “I’d like to spend a few days there every week. I could sell the studio in Putney and save a small fortune.”

And so the new phase in their lives began; Johnny worked in the City all week and returned to his wife in Fiddler’s Cottage on Friday evenings. Obviously both his parents and mine were delighted to see so much more of him and to think he valued the place he grew up in so much.

For me it was a mixed blessing; I loved seeing more of the boy I adored but to do that, I had to accept the pain of seeing him in love and living with the woman who was occupying the place in his life that was meant for me – his wife.

What made it even worse was Johnny’s eagerness that his new wife and his oldest friend should get on well, insisting the two of us saw a lot of each other whenever Jackie was in the cottage.

And what Johnny wanted, Johnny usually got from the women in his life so one morning I accepted her invitation to have coffee in one of the village’s three coffee shops.

***

Jackie smiled uncertainly as I approached her table, cup in hand. She looked out of place in the village cafe, her smart London clothes and expensive haircut attracting lots of attention from the regulars. Stunningly attractive, even close up, no-one would believe she was nearly ten years older than her husband. Once again I grudgingly admitted it wasn’t hard to understand what Johnny had seen in her. In my faded jeans and sleeveless camouflage T-shire I felt very shabby in comparison.

I sighed, gritted my teeth then took a bold step forward.

“Hi,” I smiled in what I hoped was a convincing way.

“Hi Robyn,” she smiled back, rather formally half rising to her feet.

We shook hands a little awkwardly, kissed an equally awkward hello then I sat myself down opposite the girl I considered my enemy and gave her my most endearing look.

“How are you settling in?” I asked. Jackie grimaced.

“It’s always hard moving house, and it’s hard to feel at home quickly in a new area – especially one like this where everyone knows each other so well.”

I could imagine; I wasn’t the only one who considered Jackie an interloper from London. Despite being married to a local boy, it would take a very long time for her to be accepted by the ‘old’ families in the village.

“And with Jonathan being away so much, it looks like I’ll be spending a lot of time on my own until I can make new friends.”

I winced as Jackie called my adored Johnny by his full name; it sounded so pompous. Quietly I thought the chances of this urban, sophisticated woman ever making close friends among the locals was very slim – and would be even slimmer if I had my way. But right now it was important to make a good impression and to become friends so I took a metaphorical deep breath and forced myself to be amiable.

For a while we talked in the rather safe, bland way that strangers adopt on a first meeting. To my surprise, annoyance and in the face of my natural hostility, I felt myself warming to this woman who, although outwardly cool and intimidating, was obviously just as vulnerable on the inside as the rest of us.

In a perverse way, I hated her even more for making me like her and tried hard to remember the injustice she had done in taking my beloved Johnny away from me. It only partially worked but luckily, after almost an hour of chat I had to excuse myself and go to my job in the pub.

Before I left I found myself making a genuine offer.

“Perhaps I could help you find your feet?” I volunteered. “How about if I show you round a bit. I have to work most evenings in the pub but my daytimes are fairly free. I could maybe help you settle in faster?”

A look of delight crossed Jackie’s face, mixed with relief.

"That would be really lovely. I didn’t think you would ever forgive me for stealing Jonathan from you," she said smiling as if it was a joke. “I know you two have always been... close.”

There was ambiguity in her voice which left me wondering whether she knew just how close we had been and how close I still wanted us to be.

“Oh, we were never an item in that way,” I told her with sad honesty. “Johnny’s always gone for the glamour.”

Jackie wasn’t sure what to make of this so I continued.

“I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy; not good girlfriend material.” That I now know to be true but hadn’t understood it at the time. "I’ve mellowed now I’m older. It would be a real pity if you and I weren’t friends like Johnny and I used to be."

“Jonathan told me you were more like a sister than a friend.”

She meant it as a compliment but my heart ached; I didn’t want to be Johnny’s sister. I wanted to be what I always should have been; his lover and his wife.

“He’s very sweet to say that,” I forced myself to reply.

“Well you’re sweet too. Jonathan said he hoped we’d get on. I’d love to get to know you better Robyn,” she smiled. “And yes please, I’d love it if you showed me around.”

It was agreed we would meet and spend the following day together exploring.

Jackie had no suspicions but for me, the first step had been taken.

***

For several weeks, Jackie and I saw each other whenever she was in the village, sometimes spending whole mornings or afternoons together, sometimes just having a coffee and chatting. When she wasn’t working in her studio, I took her to all the local sights, the shops, some of the restaurants and pubs as well as introducing her to a few carefully-chosen acquaintances.

I made sure all were recently-arrived incomers like Jackie herself who did not know just how strongly I felt about her husband.

Johnny came home every weekend. If anything he looked even more unbearably attractive than before and when he turned those huge, penetrating eyes on me – the eyes that had looked into my soul as he had claimed my virginity - I completely melted inside.

Inside but under no circumstances must it show outside!

To my continued distress, my beloved Johnny was still completely besotted with his wife. I didn’t see anything like as much of him as I wanted, still less without Jackie present but it was enough to feed my unrequited love mercilessly and I cried myself to sleep several times.

Despite this, Jackie and I quickly grew close, or so she thought, to the extent that I was often invited to dinner at Fiddler’s Cottage.

With a trust that was as endearing as it was unwise, Jackie had given me a key to the cottage early on ‘for emergencies’ and so that I could keep an eye on the place when they were away. I had also volunteered to help them deal with a few maintenance jobs that needed doing, including the complete reconstruction of the ancient wall at the end of their garden.

As a local, popular barmaid and well-in with the local tradesman, Jackie rightly believed I was better placed to deal with them than she was. Moreover, her part-time job as a designer required her to go to Bristol for a day or so each week and stay overnight on Wednesdays so she would find it difficult to be in the right place at the right time.

This suited my plan very well so I agreed to help immediately.

One warm Friday night after she had been in the village for a few months, Jackie had cooked a rather overly-fancy dinner for the three of us – Johnny was home for the weekend - and we were sitting on their terrace drinking coffee and finishing our third bottle of wine.

The night was beautiful; all three of us were a little tipsy, especially Johnny and the talk had moved onto old times. Unsurprisingly, Jackie hated it when he and I talked about things with which she couldn’t join in but that night she was relaxed and mellow and indulged us for a while.

Helped by the wine, stories of the adventures of ‘Batman and Robin’ kept coming out of the corners of our memories; of bike rides; of nearly-missed accidents on the rocks; of holidays in hot places; of games played with our families.

“I can see why people thought you were Jonathan’s sister,” Jackie eventually said.

For a split second Johnny and I exchanged glances; our one afternoon in the dunes had clearly not been mentioned and he did not want it to be.

“Robbie’s lovely,” he said quickly before I could say anything dangerous.

“She is,” his wife agreed. I pretended to blush as Johnny continued:

“From what I can see, it looks like you two are almost as close as sisters already too.”

The English was awful and slightly slurred but we both knew what he meant. Jackie looked across at me, raised an eyebrow and lifted her glass.

“Sisters, Robyn?”

I swallowed hard; there was a huge lump in my throat.

“Sisters!”

I replied, forcing a grin. I raised my glass and joined in with the toast.

***

Johnny had his arm around Jackie when I kissed them both good night in the doorway half an hour later.

I cried all the way home and sobbed myself to a rather fitful sleep.

I couldn’t take this pain much longer. It was time to act!

***

The following Monday morning I talked to my Boss at the pub about my working hours, explaining that for a few months I needed to ‘help a friend with some problems’. I asked whether I could cut my lunchtime hours completely for a while and warned him I might be a bit unreliable on some evenings.

I had known my Boss for many years and he was only too happy to agree. I knew there would be a payback at other, busier times of the year but I was tough enough for that.

Next, I made a few phone calls to builders I had been carefully researching. Contrary to Johnny and Jackie’s expectations, I ignored the local firms and specifically chose only those from the nearest city some twenty miles away.

During each call, I introduced myself as ‘Mrs... Call me Jackie’. Strangely, I seemed to have lost my local accent too.

In the afternoon I drove into the city and made a few purchases from specialist stores. I paid in cash rather than by card and put my purchases carefully away in my bedroom afterwards.

Then I started watching a few video clips from the internet on my laptop in my room. They weren’t the kind of clips I’d want my mother to know I was watching but they were an essential part of my plan.

Knowing that plan had started I slept much better that night.

***

Tuesday passed as normal; I met Jackie for coffee mid morning and finished my hours at the pub both at lunchtime and in the evening. I was pleased to hear that she had seen more of the acquaintances I had introduced her to and even more pleased that...