How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.
In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.
I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.
Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.
There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.
Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.
It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.
For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.
It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!
Balancing Ink & Life: How Writers Can Master Their Craft While Taming Distractions
“You can’t write what you don’t know, but you can’t write what you’re not focused on.” – Anonymous
Writing is a solitary art that demands deep concentration, yet writers are also humans with families, jobs, errands, and the ever‑present buzz of notifications. If you’ve ever stared at a blank screen while the dishwasher hums, the dog barks, or the inbox pings, you’re not alone. Below is a practical, battle‑tested roadmap for managing the work‑life tug‑of‑war and carving out a distraction‑free zone where words can flow.
1. Map Out Your Priorities – Then Align Your Schedule
a. Define What You’re Writing For
Goal
Frequency
Time Needed
Deadline
Draft novel chapter
3×/week
2 hrs
End of month
Blog post for client
1×/week
1 hr
Wednesday
Personal journaling
Daily
15 min
—
Why it works: When the purpose and deadline are crystal clear, you can allocate slots that protect both writing and non‑writing responsibilities.
b. The “Two‑Bucket” Calendar
Bucket 1 – Core Writing Blocks: Reserve 2–4 dedicated hours on your most alert days (morning for most, late night for night‑owls).
Bucket 2 – Life Obligations: Place meetings, family duties, errands, and “buffer” time here.
Treat the writing bucket like a non‑negotiable meeting with yourself. If a personal event threatens to intrude, move it to Bucket 2 or reschedule—never cancel the writing block.
2. Design a Physical “Write‑Only” Sanctuary
Element
Practical Tips
Location
Choose a spot that’s separate from TV, kitchen, or bedroom. Even a small corner with a desk and a single chair works.
Lighting
Natural light boosts mood; if that’s impossible, use a daylight‑mimicking lamp (4,000–5,000 K).
Ergonomics
Invest in a supportive chair and keep the monitor at eye level to prevent fatigue.
Signal
Put a simple sign (“Writing in progress”) on the door or a colored flag on the desk; it tells others you’re in focus mode.
Minimalism
Keep only the essentials: laptop, notebook, pen, a cup of tea. Clutter equals mental clutter.
Pro tip: If you can’t leave home, recreate this “sanctuary” with a portable setup—fold‑out lap desk, noise-cancelling headphones, and a “Do Not Disturb” status on your phone.
3. Shut Out the Digital Noise
Turn Off All Non‑Essential Notifications
Use the Do Not Disturb mode on all devices.
On Windows/macOS, set Focus Assist or Focus Mode to silence alerts.
On iOS/Android, create a custom “Writing” profile that only allows calls from emergency contacts.
Leverage Website Blockers
Freedom, Cold Turkey, or the free LeechBlock extension can lock you out of social media, news sites, and even email for the duration of a writing block.
The “30‑Minute Rule” for Email
Open email only at the start and end of your day. If something urgent pops up, note it on a “Later” list and return to it after the writing block.
Physical Device Separation
Keep your phone in another room or inside a drawer. If you need it for reference, set a timer (e.g., 5 min) and then return it to its “out of sight” spot.
4. Master the Mental Muscle of Focus
a. The Pomodoro‑Plus Method
25 min writing (single‑task, screen‑only).
5 min micro‑break (stretch, hydrate, glance away).
After four cycles, take a 15‑20 min longer break (walk, snack).
Why the “plus”? After each Pomodoro, jot a one‑sentence note of where you left off. This “mental bookmark” prevents the brain from trying to remember the plot thread during the break, keeping the next session smoother.
b. The “Pre‑Write Ritual”
5‑minute breathing (inhale 4‑sec, hold 4‑sec, exhale 4‑sec).
Sensory cue (light a candle, play a specific instrumental track).
Goal statement: “In this session, I will finish the opening dialogue for scene 3.”
Rituals cue your brain that it’s time to shift into creative mode.
c. The “One‑Idea‑Only” Technique
When a stray thought appears (e.g., “Did I lock the front door?”), write it down on a “Distraction Pad” and promise yourself you’ll address it after the current block. The act of externalising the thought releases the mental load.
5. Protect Your Life Outside the Desk
Area
Simple Guardrails
Family
Set a daily “family check‑in” (15 min) to answer questions, then return to writing.
Household chores
Batch tasks (laundry, dishes) for evenings or weekends; schedule them like appointments.
Exercise & Health
Block a 30‑minute workout slot before or after your writing block—movement fuels focus.
Social Media
Allocate specific windows (e.g., 8–9 pm) for scrolling; keep the rest of the day offline.
Sleep
Treat bedtime as a non‑negotiable meeting; aim for 7–8 hours for optimal cognitive performance.
When your non‑writing life runs on a predictable rhythm, fewer emergencies bleed into your writing time.
6. Real‑World Example: A Day in the Life of a Freelance Novelist
We as authors always like to see two little words in every review, page turner.
Alas, sometimes they’re not, but usually this applied to non fiction simple because they’re reference books. Then another two words apply: boat anchor.
The good stuff is usually over the page.
Page in this instance refers to a leaf in a book, which generally has many pages.
Then the is a page boy, not what you’d find lurking around these days but were more common in days past, but refers to a boy in training to become a knight, or an errand boy for a nobleman.
These days a page boy opens doors and runs messages in a hotel.
Another variation is being paged over the P.A. system, always a major cause of embarrassment because you and everyone else thinks your in trouble.
Of course, before there were mobile phones, there were pagers, and sometimes in the deathly silence of the classroom, it went off. Definitely not advisable to have one on you if you are trying to sneak up on someone. Same goes for the modern equivalent, the mobile phone.
For the person who uses a word processor, you are familiar with pages, and having the software generate page numbers, of course, not for the title page, and a different numbering for other pages like an index, before the story starts.
Complicated? Sometimes.
And many years ago a boss of mine often used to say I needed to turn over a new page, and it did make much sense to me. That might have been because I was young and stupid. But, later on I realised what he was really saying was that I needed to turn over a new leaf.
Kind of strange, but then a lot saying are.
And did I?
Eventually.
And just to end on a high note, Paige is also the name of a girl, I think, and one I’ve decided to use in a story.
John Pennington’s life is in the doldrums. Looking for new opportunities, and prevaricating about getting married, the only joy on the horizon was an upcoming visit to his grandmother in Sorrento, Italy.
Suddenly he is left at the check-in counter with a message on his phone telling him the marriage is off, and the relationship is over.
If only he hadn’t promised a friend he would do a favour for him in Rome.
At the first stop, Geneva, he has a chance encounter with Zoe, an intriguing woman who captures his imagination from the moment she boards the Savoire, and his life ventures into uncharted territory in more ways than one.
That ‘favour’ for his friend suddenly becomes a life-changing event, and when Zoe, the woman who he knows is too good to be true, reappears, danger and death follow.
Shot at, lied to, seduced, and drawn into a world where nothing is what it seems, John is dragged into an adrenaline-charged undertaking, where he may have been wiser to stay with the ‘devil you know’ rather than opt for the ‘devil you don’t’.
All stories require some form of research, quite often to place a character in a place at a particular time, especially if it is in a historical context. This series will take you through what it was like in 1914 through 1916.
A Journey Back to the Great War Era, When Tram Bells Rang and Empire Loyalties Were Paramount.
Modern Melbourne is a vibrant fusion of gleaming skyscrapers, hidden laneway bars, and world-class sporting arenas. But cast your mind back 109 years, to the sweltering late summer of 1915.
Australia was barely 14 years old as a federated nation, and the Great War (the war to end all wars) was dominating civic life. Thousands of young men were training outside the city, preparing for an unknown fate in distant Gallipoli, and Melbourne—the unofficial cultural capital—buzzed with patriotism, anxiety, and a fierce determination to keep life proceeding apace.
If you arrived in Melbourne by steamer or train in March 1915, seeking culture, leisure, or respite, where would a respectable visitor spend their time?
Here are the Top Five essential places to visit, a snapshot of life in the ‘Marvellous Melbourne’ of the Great War era.
1. The Public Library, Museum, and National Gallery (Current State Library Victoria & NGV)
In 1915, these three institutions were housed together in the grand complex on Swanston Street. This was not just a repository of books; it was the intellectual and cultural heart of the Commonwealth.
What You Would See:
The Dome: The spectacular octagonal reading room (the famous Domed Reading Room) had opened just ten years earlier and was a stunning architectural wonder. You would see men—and increasingly, women—poring over newspapers and ledgers, often discussing war news in hushed tones.
Art & Artifacts: The National Gallery sector displayed works purchased through the burgeoning Felton Bequest, providing access to European masters and important local artists.
The Atmosphere: A place of serious contemplation, where city officials mingled with students and researchers, all seeking knowledge away from the intense energy of the streets.
2. The Royal Botanic Gardens and the Shrine’s Future Site
While the magnificent Shrine of Remembrance would not be built until the 1930s, the surrounding area was already one of Melbourne’s most beloved leisure spots.
What You Would See:
The Gardens: March was the perfect time for a late-summer promenade. Visitors strolled along the Ornamental Lake, admired the recently established Tropical Glasshouse, and enjoyed picnics beneath the historic elms and oaks that had been growing since the mid-19th century.
The People: This was the definitive spot for society to see and be seen. You would observe impeccably dressed ladies in high-necked lace and enormous hats, often accompanied by men in civilian suits or military uniforms on brief leave.
Patriotic Displays: On Sundays, it was common to see unofficial gatherings or concerts raising funds for the war effort, turning the scenic grounds into a hub of patriotic activity.
3. The Block Arcade and Bourke Street
The central business district of Melbourne in 1915 was defined by the stunning Victorian and Edwardian architecture of its key retail streets. No spot was more essential for a visitor than the glorious indoor thoroughfare of The Block Arcade.
What You Would See:
High Commerce: This was the place to acquire the latest fashions, fine jewellery, and imported delicacies. Shops like Georges and others nearby set the retail standard for the nation.
Taking Tea: A visit to The Block was incomplete without taking afternoon tea at the famed Hopetoun Tea Rooms, with its opulent setting and renowned cakes.
Tram Life: Bourke Street was the beating heart of the city’s electric tram network, still relatively new. The jingle of the trams was the soundtrack to the busy street, ferrying commuters and shoppers to and from the inner suburbs. The sheer volume of people flowing through this intersection was truly ‘Marvellous Melbourne’ on display.
4. St. Kilda Esplanade and Pier
To escape the grime and tension of the central city, Melbourne residents would take the train or tram south to the seaside suburb of St. Kilda. While not yet the bohemian hub it would become later in the century, St. Kilda offered fresh air and seaside entertainment.
What You Would See:
The Pier: St. Kilda Pier was a major destination. Visitors could stroll out over the water, watch fishermen, and perhaps catch a view of the ships coming and going from Port Melbourne, many of which would soon carry troops overseas.
The Kiosk: At the end of the pier, a charming, distinctive Kiosk (the current structure is a later replacement) offered simple refreshments and sweeping views of the bay.
Luna Park: While the famous Luna Park didn’t open until 1912, it had quickly become a fixture. The exhilarating sights and sounds of the “Big Dipper” and the famous ‘Mr. Moon’ entrance provided a necessary distraction from the looming shadow of the war.
5. Parliament House and Treasury Gardens
In 1915, Melbourne’s Parliament House was still the primary legislative chamber for the newly formed Commonwealth of Australia (Canberra was under construction, not yet operational). This area was the hub of political decision-making.
What You Would See:
The Architecture: The massive, imposing structure of Parliament House, with its grand steps, symbolized the youthful power of the Australian government. Given the ongoing war, the discussions within were crucial—debates about conscription, finances, and troop deployments were frequent and heated.
The Gardens: Across the street, the stately Treasury Gardens offered a quieter, more formal alternative to the Botanic Gardens. It was a place for political power brokers to hold discrete meetings, or simply for weary citizens to sit and read the latest casualty lists published in the daily paper.
The Government Presence: Unlike today, the area was saturated with military staff and government clerks rushing between the various official buildings, underscoring Melbourne’s role as the wartime political capital.
March 1915: A City of Contradictions
Visiting Melbourne in March 1915 was to experience a city operating at full tilt, yet under immense psychological pressure. These five destinations remind us that even as the world prepared for unprecedented conflict, the necessity of culture, leisure, and civic pride remained undeniable.
It was a Melbourne built on certainty and Victorian grandeur, soon to be irrevocably changed by the events of the global conflict that lay just weeks ahead.
Step Into History
What forgotten Melbourne historical site would you most like to visit if you could travel back to 1915? Share your thoughts below!
I had once said that Grand Central Station, in New York, was large enough that you could get lost in it. Especially if you were from out of town.
I know, I was from out of town, and though I didn’t quite get lost, back then I had to ask directions to go where I needed to.
It was also an awe-inspiring place, and whenever I had a spare moment, usually at lunchtime, I would go there and just soak in the atmosphere. It was large enough to make a list of places to visit, find, or take a photograph of from some of the more obscure locations.
Today, I was just there to work off a temper. Things had gone badly at work, and even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I still felt bad about it.
I came in the 42nd Street entrance and went up to the balcony that overlooked the main concourse. A steady stream of people was coming and going, most purposefully, a few were loitering, and several police officers were attempting to move on a vagrant. It was not the first time.
But one person caught my eye, a young woman who had made a circuit of the hall, looked at nearly every destination board, and appeared to be confused. It was the same as I had felt when I first arrived.
Perhaps I could help.
The problem was that a man approaching a woman from out of left field would have a very creepy vibe to it, so it was probably best left alone.
After another half-hour of watching the world go by, I had finally got past the bad mood and headed back to work. I did a wide sweep of the main concourse, perhaps more for the exercise than anything else, and had reached the clock in the centre of the concourse when someone turned suddenly and I crashed into them.
Not badly, like ending up on the floor, but enough for a minor jolt. Of course, it was my fault because I was in another world at that particular moment.
“Oh, I am sorry.” A woman’s voice, very apologetic.
I was momentarily annoyed, then, when I saw who it was, it passed. It was the lost woman I’d seen earlier.
“No. Not your fault, but mine entirely. I have a habit of wandering around with my mind elsewhere.”
Was it fate that we should meet like this?
I noticed she was looking around, much the same as she had before.
“Can I help you?”
“Perhaps you can. There’s supposed to be a bar that dates back to the prohibition era here somewhere. Campbell’s Apartment, or something like that. I was going to ask…”
“Sure. It’s not that hard to find if you know where it is. I’ll take you.”
It made for a good story, especially when I related it to the grandchildren, because the punch line was, “and that’s how I met your grandmother.”
When you venture out from the city, particularly, this city, you find yourself among the blocks that run to several acres, allotments that are ideal for keeping a horse or two.
Inner suburban living often runs to high-rise apartment blocks, with no gardens, except perhaps on the roof.
Outer suburban living runs to individual houses on allotments that are from 600 to 2,000 square meters. We have not yet gone into mass building of duplexes or terrace housing because, for the time being, we don’t have the population.
And, this is why you only have to go about 35 kilometres from the centre of the city to be able to buy acreage.
So, we are visiting, and on such a glorious day, it’s a pleasure to sit on the back verandah, spending some time soaking up the sunshine, breathing the country’s fresh air, and letting the inspiration flow into the writing.
It works.
I’ve managed to write another photograph-inspired story, number 151, which will be published on my writing blog in the next day or so.
Also being tackled will be the next episode of PI Walthensen’s second case – nearing 60.
Unfortunately, though, the inspirational location didn’t afford me a title for this new case but it will have the opening three words “A Case Of…’
The rest, I’m sure, will come as the story unfolds.
Beyond the Old Town: 5 Road-Less-Travelled Things to Do in Tallinn
When most travellers think of Tallinn, the image that springs to mind is of cobbled streets, medieval towers, and the fairytale charm of its UNESCO-listed Old Town. It’s no wonder—Tallinn’s historic heart is enchanting, and rightly so. But venture just beyond the postcard-perfect walls, and you’ll discover a quieter, more authentic side of Estonia’s capital—one brimming with creativity, nature, and local spirit.
If you’ve already admired the view from Toompea Hill and sipped craft beer in Town Hall Square, it’s time to stray from the beaten path. Here are five unique and lesser-known experiences that reveal the soul of Tallinn beyond the tourist trail.
1. Explore the Abandoned Military Bunkers of Nahkakivi Nature Park
Tucked away in a pine forest just 30 minutes east of the city lies Nahkakivi Nature Park, a serene yet haunting reminder of Estonia’s Soviet past. Scattered throughout the woods are dozens of abandoned military bunkers—concrete relics hidden beneath moss and ferns, remnants of Cold War paranoia.
Hiking through this tranquil forest, you’ll stumble upon camouflaged tunnels, rusting artillery platforms, and watchtowers half-swallowed by nature. It’s an eerie, atmospheric exploration that doubles as a thought-provoking history lesson. Locals come here for peace, photography, and even forest yoga—making it a perfect escape for introspective travellers.
Pro Tip: Visit in autumn when golden leaves contrast with grey concrete, or summer for lush greenery. Bring a flashlight and a sense of adventure.
2. Sip Local Brews at a Pirate-Themed Microbrewery in Kopli
Tucked into Tallinn’s industrial Kopli district—once home to a bustling shipyard—Piraat Brewery offers a quirky, offbeat experience. More than just a pub, Piraat is a cultural institution with a pirate crew (yes, they dress the part), live folk music, and beers brewed using ancient Estonian recipes.
You won’t find many tourists here—just locals laughing over tankards of smoky koduõlu (home-brew) and hearty black bread soup. The taproom feels like stepping into a cozy nautical legend, complete with anchors, maps, and a fireplace surrounded by wooden barrels.
Try This: The flagship “Piraat” ale, dark and malty, or their seasonal herbal brews infused with juniper and wild berries.
3. Wander Through the Hidden Courtyards of Kalamaja
While most visitors flock to the pastel houses of Kalamaja for photos, few venture into its network of hidden courtyards. These intimate inner spaces, tucked behind unassuming doors, are pockets of bohemian soul—filled with street art, cat cafes, independent galleries, and tiny designer boutiques.
Kalamaja, a former working-class district, has transformed into a creative enclave. Spend an hour wandering alleys like Lühike jalg and Kopli, where vintage stores, ceramic workshops, and open studios reveal the city’s artistic pulse. Don’t miss the “Suur Rämba” house—a colourful, graffiti-covered community art project.
Local Insight: Time your visit with the Kalamaja Days festival (June) when courtyards fling open their doors for guided tours and live music.
4. Take a Ferry to Aegna Island for a Wild Nature Escape
Just an hour by public ferry from the city centre lies Aegna Island—a wild, forested escape with no cars, no hotels, and no crowds. Once a Soviet military zone, Aegna is now a protected nature reserve with hiking trails winding through pine forests, WWII ruins, and overgrown observation towers.
Birdwatchers, hikers, and solitude seekers flock here for the silence and the surreal feeling of undiscovered wilderness minutes from the capital. Bring a picnic, spot deer or rare woodpeckers, and climb the island’s highest point for panoramic views of the Gulf of Finland.
How to Go: Catch the seasonal ferry from Sitsi Harbour (spring to autumn), or rent a kayak from the mainland.
5. Uncover Street Art & Urban Gentrification in Balti Jaam Market District
Forget sterile shopping malls—Tallinn’s most vibrant shopping and dining scene unfolds at Balti Jaam Market. Located in a converted 19th-century train warehouse near the city’s central train station, this former grey-market hub has blossomed into a hipster haven.
Inside, you’ll find vintage clothing stalls, farm-to-table food trucks, local design pop-ups, and cozy cafés serving Baltic rye sourdough and third-wave coffee. Graffiti covers the outer walls, and the atmosphere hums with youthful energy.
But the real secret? The surrounding streets—Lühike, Väike, and Soo—are lined with street art murals, tucked-away galleries, and micro-theatres. It’s a neighbourhood reborn, where grassroots creativity thrives just beyond the tourist radar.
Must-Do: Grab a kohuke (Estonian curd snack) from a vendor and explore the back alleys—every corner holds a surprise.
Final Thoughts: Rediscover Tallinn Off the Map
Tallinn’s charm isn’t confined to its medieval ramparts. By stepping into forgotten forests, abandoned fortresses, and neighbourhood courtyards, you experience the city as locals do—dynamic, layered, and quietly poetic.
So next time you’re wandering the Old Town, remember: adventure waits just around the corner. Whether you’re chasing Soviet ghosts in the woods or sipping pirate ale under candlelight, the road less travelled in Tallinn always leads somewhere unforgettable.
Pack your curiosity—and maybe a flashlight. The real Tallinn is waiting.
I can see how it is that a writer’s life is one that, at times, has to be shut off from the outside world.
It’s a bit hard to keep a stream of thoughts going when in one ear is some banal detective show, and in the other, a conversation that you have to keep up with. I know how hard it is because I’ve tried doing three things at once and failed miserably in all three.
So, out I slink to the writing room and start by re-reading the previous chapters, to get back into the plot. I should remember where I am and get straight to it, but the devil is in the details.
Going back, quite often I revise, and a plotline is tweaked, and a whole new window is opened. God, I wish I didn’t do that!
Then I get to the blank page, ready to go, and…
The phone rings.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Phone answered, back to the blank page, no, it’s gone, got to go back, blast, another revision, and back to the blank page.
Half an hour shot to pieces.
The phone rings again.
Blast scam callers. I nearly rip the cord out of the wall.
All through this, the cat just watches, and is that a knowing smile?
It can’t be, I’ve just learned that cats can’t smile, or make any sort of face.
I’m sure his thoughts are not vague or scrambled, or wrestling with the ploys of several stories on the go, getting locations right, getting characters to think and do their thing with a fair degree of continuity.
The cat’s world is one of which chair to lie on, where is that elusive mouse, be it real or otherwise, and is this fool going to feed me, and please, please, don’t let it be the lasagna. I am not that cat!
Unlike other professions, it’s a steady, sometimes frustrating, slog where you can’t just walk away, have a great time, and come back and pick up where you left off. Stories have to be written from beginning to end, not a bit here and a bit there.
It’s a bit like running a marathon. You are in a zone, the first few miles are the hardest, the middle is just getting the rhythm and breathing under control, and then you hope you get to the end because it can seem that you’ve been going forever, and the end is never in sight.
But, when you reach the end, oh, isn’t the feeling one of pure joy and relief?
Sorry, not there yet.
And no comment is required from the cat gallery, thank you!
It was the first time in almost a week that I made the short walk to the cafe alone. It was early, and the chill of the morning was still in the air. In summer, it was the best time of the day. When Susan came with me, it was usually much later, when the day was much warmer and less tolerable.
On the morning of the third day of her visit, Susan said she was missing the hustle and bustle of London, and by the end of the fourth she said, in not so many words, she was over being away from ‘civilisation’. This was a side of her I had not seen before, and it surprised me.
She hadn’t complained, but it was making her irritable. The Susan that morning was vastly different to the Susan on the first day. So much, I thought, for her wanting to ‘reconnect’, the word she had used as the reason for coming to Greve unannounced.
It was also the first morning I had time to reflect on her visit and what my feelings were towards her. It was the reason I’d come to Greve: to soak up the peace and quiet and think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
I sat in my usual corner. Maria, one of two waitresses, came out, stopped, and there was no mistaking the relief in her manner. There was an air of tension between Susan and Maria I didn’t understand, and it seemed to emanate from Susan rather than the other way around. I could understand her attitude if it was towards Alisha, but not Maria. All she did was serve coffee and cake.
When Maria recovered from the momentary surprise, she said, smiling, “You are by yourself?” She gave a quick glance in the direction of my villa, just to be sure.
“I am this morning. I’m afraid the heat, for one who is not used to it, can be quite debilitating. I’m also afraid it has had a bad effect on her manners, for which I apologise. I cannot explain why she has been so rude to you.”
“You do not have to apologise for her, David, but it is of no consequence to me. I have had a lot worse. I think she is simply jealous.”
It had crossed my mind, but there was no reason for her to be. “Why?”
“She is a woman, I am a woman, she thinks because you and I are friends, there is something between us.”
It made sense, even if it was not true. “Perhaps if I explained…”
Maria shook her head. “If there is a hole in the boat, you should not keep bailing but try to plug the hole. My grandfather had many expressions, David. If I may give you one piece of advice, as much as it is none of my business, you need to make your feelings known, and if they are not as they once were, and I think they are not, you need to tell her. Before she goes home.”
Interesting advice. Not only a purveyor of excellent coffee, but Maria was also a psychiatrist who had astutely worked out my dilemma. What was that expression, ‘not just a pretty face’?
“Is she leaving soon?” I asked, thinking Maria knew more about Susan’s movements than I did.
“You would disappoint me if you had not suspected as much. Susan was having coffee and talking to someone in her office on a cell phone. It was an intense conversation. I should not eavesdrop, but she said being here was like being stuck in hell. It is a pity she does not share your love for our little piece of paradise, is it not?”
“It is indeed. And you’re right. She said she didn’t have a phone, but I know she has one. She just doesn’t value the idea of getting away from the office. Perhaps her role doesn’t afford her that luxury.”
And perhaps Alisha was right about Maria, that I should be more careful. She had liked Maria the moment she saw her. We had sat at this very table, the first day I arrived. I would have travelled alone, but Prendergast, my old boss, liked to know where ex-employees of the Department were, and what they were doing.
She sighed. “I am glad I am just a waitress. Your usual coffee and cake?”
“Yes, please.”
Several months had passed since we had rescued Susan from her despotic father; she had recovered faster than we had thought, and settled into her role as the new Lady Featherington, though she preferred not to use that title, but go by the name of Lady Susan Cheney.
I didn’t get to be a Lord, or have any title, not that I was expecting one. What I had expected was that Susan, once she found her footing as head of what seemed to be a commercial empire, would not have time for details like husbands, particularly when our agreement made before the wedding gave either of us the right to end it.
There was a moment when I visited her recovering in the hospital, where I was going to give her the out, but I didn’t, and she had not invoked it. We were still married, just not living together.
This visit was one where she wanted to ‘reconnect’ as she called it, and invite me to come home with her. She saw no reason why we could not resume our relationship, conveniently forgetting she indirectly had me arrested for her murder, charges both her mother and Lucy vigorously pursued, and had the clone not returned to save me, I might still be in jail.
It was not something I would forgive or forget any time soon.
There were other reasons why I was reluctant to stay with her, like forgetting small details, an irregularity in her character I found odd. She looked the same, she sounded the same, she basically acted the same, but my mind was telling me something was not right. It was not the Susan I first met, even allowing for the ordeal she had been subjected to.
But, despite those misgivings, there was no question in my mind that I still loved her, and her clandestine arrival had brought back all those feelings. But as the days passed, I began to get the impression my feelings were one-sided and she was just going through the motions.
Which brought me to the last argument, earlier, where I said if I went with her, it would be business meetings, social obligations, and quite simply her ‘celebrity’ status that would keep us apart. I reminded her that I had said from the outset I didn’t like the idea of being in the spotlight, and when I reiterated it, she simply brushed it off as just part of the job, adding rather strangely that I always looked good in a suit. The flippancy of that comment was the last straw, and I left before I said something I would regret.
I knew I was not a priority. Maybe somewhere inside me, I had wanted to be a priority, and I was disappointed when I was not.
And finally, there was Alisha. Susan, at the height of the argument, had intimated she believed I had an affair with her, but that elephant was always in the room whenever Alisha was around. It was no surprise when I learned Susan had asked Prendergast to reassign her to other duties.
At least I knew what my feelings for Alisha were, and there were times when I had to remember she was persona non grata. Perhaps that was why Susan had her banished, but, again, a small detail; jealousy was not one of Susan’s traits when I first knew her.
Perhaps it was time to set Susan free.
When I swung around to look in the direction of the lane where my villa was, I saw Susan. She was formally dressed, not in her ‘tourist’ clothes, which she had bought from one of the local clothing stores. We had fun that day, shopping for clothes, a chore I’d always hated. It had been followed by a leisurely lunch, lots of wine and soul searching.
It was the reason why I sat in this corner; old habits die hard. I could see trouble coming from all directions, not that Susan was trouble or at least I hoped not, but it allowed me the time to watch her walking towards the cafe in what appeared to be short, angry steps; perhaps the culmination of the heat wave and our last argument.
She glared at me as she sat, dropping her bag beside her on the ground, where I could see the cell phone sitting on top. She followed my glance down, and then she looked unrepentant back at me.
Maria came back at the exact moment she was going to speak. I noticed Maria hesitate for a second when she saw Susan, then put her smile in place to deliver my coffee.
Neither spoke nor looked at each other. I said, “Susan will have what I’m having, thanks.”
Maria nodded and left.
“Now,” I said, leaning back in my seat, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation as to why you didn’t tell me about the phone, but that first time you disappeared, I’d guessed you needed to keep in touch with your business interests. I thought it somewhat unwisethat you should come out when the board of one of your companies was trying to remove you, because of what was it, an unexplained absence? All you had to do was tell me there were problems and you needed to remain at home to resolve them.”
My comment elicited a sideways look, with a touch of surprise.
“It was unfortunate timing on their behalf, and I didn’t want you to think everything else was more important than us. There were issues before I came, and I thought the people at home would be able to manage without me for at least a week, but I was wrong.”
“Why come at all. A phone call would have sufficed.”
“I had to see you, talk to you. At least we have had a chance to do that. I’m sorry about yesterday. I once told you I would not become my mother, but I’m afraid I sounded just like her. I misjudged just how much this role would affect me, and truly, I’m sorry.”
An apology was the last thing I expected.
“You have a lot of work to do catching up after being away, and of course, in replacing your mother and gaining the requisite respect as the new Lady Featherington. I think it would be for the best if I were not another distraction. We have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves when you get past all these teething issues.”
“You’re not coming with me?” She sounded disappointed.
“I think it would be for the best if I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“It should come as no surprise to you that I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress. You are so much better doing your job without me. I told your mother once that when the time came I would not like the responsibilities of being your husband. Now that I have seen what it could possibly entail, I like it even less. You might also want to reconsider our arrangement, after all, we only had a marriage of convenience, and now that those obligations have been fulfilled, we both have the option of terminating it. I won’t make things difficult for you if that’s what you want.”
It was yet another anomaly, I thought; she should look distressed, and I would raise the matter of that arrangement. Perhaps she had forgotten the finer points. I, on the other hand, had always known we would not last forever. The perplexed expression, to me, was a sign she might have forgotten.
Then, her expression changed. “Is that what you want?”
“I wasn’t madly in love with you when we made that arrangement, so it was easy to agree to your terms, but inexplicably, since then, my feelings for you changed, and I would be sad if we parted ways. But the truth is, I can’t see how this is going to work.”
“In saying that, do you think I don’t care for you?”
That was exactly what I was thinking, but I wasn’t going to voice that opinion out loud. “You spent a lot of time finding new ways to make my life miserable, Susan. You and that wretched friend of yours, Lucy. While your attitude improved after we were married, that was because you were going to use me when you went to see your father, and then almost let me go to prison for your murder.”
“I had nothing to do with that, other than to leave, and I didn’t agree with Lucy that you should be made responsible for my disappearance. I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my mother. She hated you; Lucy didn’t understand you, and Millie told me I was stupid for not loving you in return, and she was right. Why do you think I gave you such a hard time? You made it impossible not to fall in love with you, and it nearly changed my mind about everything I’d been planning so meticulously. But perhaps there was a more subliminal reason why I did because after I left, I wanted to believe, if anything went wrong, you would come and find me.”
“How could you possibly know that I’d even consider doing something like that, given what you knew about me?”
“Prendergast made a passing comment when my mother asked him about you; he told us you were very good at finding people and even better at fixing problems.”
“And yet here we are, one argument away from ending it.”
I could see Maria hovering, waiting for the right moment to deliver her coffee, then go back and find Gianna, the café owner, instead. Gianna was more abrupt and, for that reason, was rarely seen serving the customers. Today, she was particularly cantankerous, banging the cake dish on the table and frowning at Susan before returning to her kitchen. Gianna didn’t like Susan either.
Behind me, I heard a car stop, and when she looked up, I knew it was for her. She had arrived with nothing, and she was leaving with nothing.
She stood. “Last chance.”
“Forever?”
She hesitated and then shook away the look of annoyance on her face. “Of course not. I wanted you to come back with me so we could continue working on our relationship. I agree there are problems, but it’s nothing we can’t resolve if we try.”
I had been trying. “It’s too soon for both of us, Susan. I need to be able to trust you, and given the circumstances, and all that water under the bridge, I’m not sure if I can yet.”
She frowned at me. “As you wish.” She took an envelope out of her bag and put it on the table. “When you are ready, it’s an open ticket home. Please make it sooner rather than later. Despite what you think of me, I have missed you, and I have no intention of ending it between us.”
That said, she glared at me for a minute, shook her head, then walked to the car. I watched her get in and the car drive slowly away.
Pro Tip: Visit in autumn when golden leaves contrast with grey concrete, or summer for lush greenery. Bring a flashlight and a sense of adventure.
Pack your curiosity—and maybe a flashlight. The real Tallinn is waiting.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 