Get back in the shed, Ned

Quite bit of excitement in the our little Lane on this windy sunny Suffolk morning. My neighbour but one, let us call her... Sarah... has again been visited by The Authorities. Not quite the police, but then again, not exactly not the police. Very grown up people with folders and stern gazes and disapproving eyebrows.
News across the hedges is that this was a follow-up visit after the unfortunate incident earlier this year when Sarah was found to be hiding a man in her garden shed. A live one at that. In a town such as this you fully expect the odd body turn up in a hedgerow or an amputated limb being used as a flotilla by baby duckies beside the village green, but an agile virile live man of functional age being discovered in these parts is unheard of- until a few months ago.
It seems Sarah went off to France on a boating holiday and neighbours noticed snuffling and truffling and movement over the garden fence - quite unexpected given Sarah's absence and thus likely to be an intruder. As all good neighbours, parishoners, and general busy-bodies do, they immediately called the police and demanded the nice constable investigate.
Evidently the police arrived, voices were raised, pens were drawn and most disturbingly , clipboards were extracted from the squad car. A real to-do! Low and behold the intruder was not an intruder at all- much more terrifyingly - he was a foreigner! A proper foreigner, with an accent, a long elegant nose and insisting he was allowed to be there. (Don't they all, my dear? don't they all...)
It turns out that Sarah,was recently divorced. A situation which had caused her some considerable distress, to a point where she was hospitalised for a period in light of the devastation she had experienced and overwhelming loneliness. In the summer she felt better and took herself off to Prague where somehow, and this is unclear, she met a charming, handsome and slightly younger man. She was immediately enamored and arranged for him to come over to England and stay in her cottage in the lane.
At some point in this fiasco, but not before he had arrived, she began to question her decision to have a man she did not know take up residence in her one bedroom cottage. Worse than this, how would she explain him to all the Preservation Committee ladies, the lane's traffic Committee and indeed, Committees in general?
And so- quite sensibly as she saw it, she decided to keep him in the garden shed, and have him into the house (upstairs and downstairs) when loneliness required it.
The initial investigation centered mostly around the question as to whether or not the gentleman in question was kept in the shed under duress and "invited" into the house to perform willingly and was free to come and go as he pleased or, whether the Shed Man was victim to something more sinister.
Today was a follow up visit from The Authorities to make sure nothing untoward was taking place in the house or shed. Nothing was. And so the twitching curtains of the Lane flutter back against the windows and we all continue as if nothing happened and nothing was said across hedges and garden gates.