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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."

"Oh?"

"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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