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Priestess takes part in sexual ceremony to create magic.

I treated myself to some new make-up and a long silky scarf. It was turning into a good birthday after all, I decided, as I walked by the river where Don and I used to canoodle, long ago.

I was looking for the little caf__ near the towpath where he and I used to go when we were courting. I wasn't sure it still existed but I eventually found it, or at least the building that had now replaced it after all those years.

It was now a smart bistro. Standing outside reading the menu I realised I was famished. The prospect of a bowl of tomato and mushroom tagliatelle and a glass of rose was utterly mouth-watering.

I glanced through the window, half-covered by pretty gingham curtains and saw that it wasn't exactly crowded. After all, it was only Tuesday, hardly the busy end of the week. Then I noticed something, someone else...

I felt the colour draining from my cheeks. Don was sitting at an intimate side-table for two, complete with a posy of flowers and a bottle of wine. An attractive young woman, not much older than our daughter, Vickie, was looking attentively into his face.

I felt sick and dizzy as my world began to fall apart. Who was she - this floozy? And what was she doing on my big day with my husband? Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore. In fact I felt quite sick.

I wish I'd had the courage to barge in on them and confront them, make a big scene and embarrass them both, such was my anger. Or better still, carry on as normal, as if I hadn't yet known they were there, go in and sit at a table right near their's and...

But I couldn't.

The sheer shock horror of what I had just seen robbed be of any strength and fight and I stumbled away from the bistro, feeling like a child excluded from a party, the one who stands out in the cold and peers in longingly through the window at all the others unwrapping presents, playing games and enjoying themselves.


Don arrived home early for once. He found me lying in the darkened bedroom. I said I had a migraine. Somehow I couldn't face him with the truth. My discovery had drained me of all energy and nerve. I suppose, too, that with part of my mind I was wishing and praying that there might turn out to be a reasonable explanation. I didn't want to upset the apple cart if there was the least chance I was jumping to the wrong conclusion.

He was very sympathetic and attentive. When he bent over me a lock of his dark brown hair fell across his forehead and reminded me for a moment how he'd looked in his youth, dashing, almost dangerous. But when I thought of what I had seen earlier, his concern seemed to have a hollow ring. I was torn. It wasn't like Don to hide something. The Donald I knew was an honest and honourable person.

"That's a shame," he said. "I'd lined up a nice little surprise for you."


"I was hoping to take you out to dinner tonight, but if you don't feel up to it..?"

Now what was I to say? I had feigned migraine, could I suddenly affect a remarkable but believable recovery? And then I thought again of the scene I'd witnessed at lunchtime today.

"Where had you thought of taking me?" I tried to phrase my words in such a way that would still allow his offer to remain open until the eleventh hour. I didn't want to close the book completely. When he said the name of the restaurant I just couldn't believe it. It was the same one where I'd also booked a table for us that evening. But I didn't let on. I didn't want to steal his thunder.

"Can I get you anything, darling," he said. "A glass of water and maybe some paracetamol?"

"No, I've already had some," I fibbed. "I'm sure if I just give it ten minutes it will pass. It's just these damned zig-zag flashes in the corner of my eye at the moment. But they usually pass off after a while."

"Tell you what... I'll go to the bathroom and get myself cleaned-up and if by the time I've come out you're feeling well enough, we'll both get changed and go."

I agreed.

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