You get the picture.I had discovered a new "establishment" in Blackburn, made a phone call, and was very soon chatting away to the unknown lady on the other end as if we had known each other for years. I got the address, rang off, and drove over there. I soon found myself ringing the door bell of a small bungalow in a suburban cul de sac. The door opened and a pretty thirty something lady opened the door and let me in, and lead me through to the kitchen.As we walked in to the kitchen, well, I was just like a k** in a sweet shop. There were 8 of them, all late 20's to mid 30's and chatting away to each other like a mothers meeting. Always wanting to know about the set up I asked them (over a cup of tea) how they had started up.It turned out that four or five of them knew each other from school days. They were not all in the same class or same year, but were friends. After school they drifted apart, some married and a couple divorced. One however stayed single and after a few dead end. She was still grateful, even happy, that he had taken the fall for her, but not proud of him, if that would have been the way to say it, she thought. She’d cried her eyes out so many nights about it all, what had happened. Then, one night there were no more tears only a kind of malaise, a kind of emptiness. Then there was James, and she was saved. James understood her. Daddy Ron liked him. Her mother liked him. Daddy David?Daddy David? Well, he’d never met James, never heard of him. Daddy David was weak, and foolish. Thinking about him now made her want to cry again, but, she couldn’t; there were no more tears only something she couldn’t define. She’d send him the letter. Tell him about James and her wedding plans. There’d be a couple of pics too. That would be enough; she would have done her duty, and she saw it as a duty not an act of love and hope.Hank Bartlett wasn’t actually stalking her, but he was hoping she’d show up as she usually did at the campus caf. He’d seen her several.
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