Rosie May the Stewards wife, what an amazing woman, she taught me to sort edible and poisonous mushrooms, and it became my responsibility to fill a basket daily, then rewarded me with a man-size breakfast eaten at the table, the staff were treated like family. 

On one particularly wet and windy morning, I arrived full of expectation, with a basket full of fresh mushrooms and found the door to the yard was still locked, so made my way to the Members entrance, that was also locked. 

Dumping the basket on the steps I went to the Pro Shop, the club professional who was always a last-minute arrival at the breakfast table was already in his office, surrounded by a group of rather forlorn-looking members, who'd arrived hoping for an early morning round. 

Expecting to hear that the club had been burgled again, as it was a frequent target for some the suburbs young rascals, who'd occasionally unload its 'One Arm Bandits'. I started to talk, but the Pro put his fingers to his lips, warning me not to speak, now I knew for sure that something serious was up, he never treated me like a kid. 

Our Rosie had been taken ill during the night, an ambulance was called, and it rushed her off to the hospital, the Steward rode with her and neither had returned. It turned out to be a very sad time, for poor Rosie, she never saw another day and the Steward, he never returned. When told she'd passed away, I felt a pain that I could not explain and the cat never took to the club's new Stewards, to be honest, nor did I and that's how? Penny became our cat, you'll hear more about her as this story unfolds.