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‘Cool!’ he said, ‘I’m going to see my sister in Glastonbury. Half an hour away.’ ‘Do you have a dinner jacket?’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ ‘Would you escort me to my Summer ball?’ ‘It would be an honour,’ he said with a grin, and it was ‘Outlooked’ into our diaries. They days passed and we didn’t discuss the ball until the Thursday night before the event on Saturday. ‘I’ve had my suit cleaned especially,’ he said, and I told him what I’d bought and eventually gave him the notes from the University on where he needed to be and at what time. I was waiting by the square in my frock that had stretched my credit card to its limit and wondering where he was in all of the line of cars I could see lining up to drop off the many guests that were arriving. Not seeing his tall Volkswagen I began to wonder if he really had made it, thinking irritably about the noisy motorcycle jumping the queue along the outside of the line of cars. It pulled over parked by some smaller bikes and the owner swung his leg. It only weighed about forty pounds but was awkward to handle. It was a short distance to Mrs. P’s home. I backed into the drive and opened the van’s back door. The house was dark except for a light at the back of the house. We had entered through the front door that morning but I headed toward the light. Just as I approached the back door the light went out. I recognized Mrs.P. She motioned me in silently. It was a short wave of the hand, a commanding beckon I followed her along a porch which spanned the back of the house. We entered the kitchen which was also dark except for a lighted clock on the stove. I noted it was 9:36 p. m. She made a sharp turn and headed down a hallway. I recognized the passage and knew where we were heading but would not been able to navigate through the maze on my own. A street lamp in front of the house gave off just enough light for me to make out the shape of the display in front of the fireplace. ‘My children are asleep upstairs so you must do this.
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