Writer's Notebook

Compared to the excitement that surrounded Violet's sudden reappearance, the New Year had little to offer but the regular round of annual reports to various organisations. From experience, I know this would continue until the centre's AGM which was not until April. I began seeing paper everywhere and one night I even dreamt, the village teacher had kidnapped me. I awoke quickly but the picture of me tied up to my executive chair entwined in rolls of bureaucratic paper chains didn't leave me all day. Abandoned by her husband, Morgana had decided to busy herself by starting up a choir and was also trying to put together a music group to play at folk dances. We did, however, insist on keeping one evening a week free of engagements of all kinds. This we'd spend at home together: a candlelight dinner with our favourite wine, some soft music and our books. We loved reading to each other and this evening Morgana had found a poem which brought tears to my ears when she read it.

'But what's a tryst, Simon? I'm afraid I didn't understand that first line.'

Her pale eyes reflected the fervent fire captured in the words of the poem. I stared back and we embraced lost in the magic of our love.

'I'll explain tomorrow.'

The words broke the magic. Morgana became playful and teasing.

'If you don't tell me right now, you'll forfeit the right to dance the last waltz with me at next week's ball. I'll dance with Jean instead.'

'Tomorrow, not before. You'll understand better.'

The next day I was up early and crept out before Morgana stirred. She'd be annoyed, I knew. But it was all part of my plan. In my mind's eye, I could see her stretch out her hand only to find the envelope with its one single single instruction.

Telephone me at the office. She did, only to hear...
Run away! Come and find me. In the car was a map with directions...
Youx, a three house village.
Solitude guest house. You've found me.
Together with some explaining to do and the whole weekend to do it.