Cardiff, Wales
September 2017

All the towns and people

"You'll do great, they'll love you and today will be a rousing success," Ken promises quietly – and not for the first time today.

I take a deep breath and send a suspicious look his way. "Are you just saying that because you think I'm fretting?"

"No," he quickly assures, before stopping himself and rephrasing, "well, I do think you're fretting, but I also meant every word I said."

Still eyeing him doubtfully, I nevertheless allow him to slip an arm between me and the backrest of the car and pull me closer, drawing my head to lie on his shoulder.

"You'll mush up my hair," I mumble, but make no motion to move away from him.

Ken chuckles. "I'm sure Melissa will make sure your hair looks just right before you get out of the car. Won't you, Melissa?" The last sentence, he says more loudly, the better for Melissa in the row behind us to hear it.

She leans forward and when I glance back, I can see her grinning. "It's part of my job."

I raise my head from Ken's shoulder for long enough to ask, "My hair is part of your job?"

Melissa shrugs. "Everything you do in public is my job, according to Elphinestone. He gave me quite the stern talking-to about my responsibilities when he heard I got promoted to be your private secretary. I don't think he thinks I'm up to the job."

"Well, he's wrong," I decide firmly. "Also, if he was here, he wouldn't be taking care of my hair, would he?"

"Probably not," agrees Melissa, laughing. Ken and Oliver join into her laughter readily.

The mental image of composed, overly correct Elphinestone sorting out my hairstyling is an amusing one and it's enough to raise even a smile from me, despite my nervousness.

I'm allowed to be nervous though! This is my very first official royal event after all. The public response to our engagement was overwhelmingly positive, but that doesn't guarantee that the people of Wales will approve of me as their new princess. They might show me initial goodwill, but if I mess it up, there's a chance they won't forget that too readily!

And just like that, I'm back to fretting.

Ken, sensing that, turns towards me and kisses the top of my head. "You'll be marvellous," he murmurs. "You just have to be yourself and they won't be able to help loving you."

"Are you sure?" I whisper back.

"Never been surer of anything in my life," he replies, brushing his nose against my temple. "Except wanting to marry you, I guess. That's the one thing I'm even surer of. No matter what happens, I won't ever doubt that."

He does say the nicest things sometimes!

"You do say the nicest things sometimes."

He laughs. "I try. But I also mean what I say."

"I should hope so!" I declare and give him a warning look for good measure. Ken just smiles mildly, picks up my hand and threads his fingers through mine.

Behind us, in the third tow of the roomy SUV we're riding in, there's a familiar beeping, indicating that Melissa received a message. The rustling sound tells me she's immediately checking it and I crane my neck to look back at her.

"Anything important?" I ask.

Melissa makes a humming sound as she scrolls through the message. When she raises her head, I can see she's excited, but in a good way. "The photographer sent over the first batch of pictures from last week's shooting!"

Last week, we shot our official engagement photos and to say it was a surreal experience would be understating it. Ken's had official photo shoots before, if not of this magnitude, but my experience amounts to nothing more than semi-organised family pictures taken by Grandma Bertha and her hot pink pocket camera. They inevitably descended into total chaos within two minutes and someone always had their eyes closed.

In contrast, the shoot for our engagement pictures was perfectly professional. Teddy recommended a well-known British photographer who came with his entire entourage to set us up in the best possible light (literally). Mum and my sisters were around for the shoot and helped me with my clothes, while Rhea was brought in to do make-up and style my hair. Great-Aunt Tanya and Leslie supplied an assortment of jewellery, though I deliberately kept it simple to let my engagement ring shine, not matter how much Great-Aunt Tanya grumbled when I – regretfully – handed back a gorgeous pair of chandelier diamond earrings as being a tad too big for the occasion.

(I shall find another reason to wear them soon though.)

"Can we see the pictures?" Ken enquires, thus jolting me from my thoughts.

"Sure." Melissa readily hands over her phone, on which the photos are still opened.

Ken takes the phone and tilts it so I can look at the screen as well, before he slowly starts scrolling through the pictures.

There are several different sets of photos with different levels of formality to them. The entire shoot took place at Windsor, with the more formal pictures taken in the state rooms of the castle and the more informal ones showing us outside in the park. Ken wears either a grey suit or a light blue button-down with chinos in all of the photos, while I went through more than one costume change. (Why is it that no-one ever cares when men re-wear clothes, even for days on end, but us women are always expected to get dolled up in something new all the time?)

One of my favourite dresses for the shoot was one Di brought with her from Canada, designed by a local Quebecoise designer. I wore it for the photos taken in the White Drawing room, the rich teal silk of it providing a pleasing contrast to both my hair and to the white-and-gold décor of the room.

"I like that one," I remark when Ken stops scrolling from a moment and examines one of the Drawing Room pictures.

"Yes, that was my thought, too," he confirms.

It's a formal picture in that we're posed standing next to each other by a window, our arms linked in a way that puts my ring on display, but there's a genuine touch to it because instead of smiling politely at the camera, we're looking at each other. I think I remember teasing Ken about something just before this particular photo was taken and it shows in both our faces, his expression being gently amused and my smile appearing light and playful. It looks like you'd expect a royal engagement picture to look like, but it also looks like us.

"Let's earmark it," I decide, before motioning for Ken to continue scrolling.

He does, passing over several more photos in the Drawing Room and reaching a set of pictures taken in the throne room with its bright blue carpet and its collection of monarchs looking down from their places on the wall. For these photos, I wore a dusty pink sheath dress that Nan lent me and that nicely complemented Ken's light grey suit. The best photo from this set is one where we're smiling at the camera but stand facing each other, his arms around my waist and my left hand placed on his right arm so my ring is easy to see.

From there on, we moved the shoot outside, to the fountain in the long-dried moat surrounding the castle that now functions as a small garden. During an earlier shopping trip, Joy had picked out a light white knit pullover and a blue-patterned swishy skirt for this setting, with Ken having changed to the more laid-back look of button-down and chinos for it. In keeping with the more informal look of these pictures, they're less staged, too, and even feature a sequence of photos that see me spritzing water from the fountain in direction of a laughing Ken.

"Those are fun," he comments, chuckling slightly at the memory.

"Fun times," I agree, grinning, and make a mental note to revisit the fountain photos at a later date to see whether they hold up on a larger screen, too.

For the final photos of the shoot, we moved further away from the castle to Savill Garden set far south in Windsor Great Park where, as per Mum's suggestions, I wore a white lace dress from my own wardrobe. Savill Garden is actually a collection of smaller gardens, each focusing on a certain botanical theme or area. The latest addition was the Rose Garden, opened by Leslie some years ago, and it's here where took the last pictures in the soft afternoon light of a slowly setting sun. They're the most intimate photos, too, and I especially like one that shows Ken and me embracing closely, both smiling happily and looking very in love, with the roses providing a colourful backdrop.

"That one's a winner, isn't it?" asks Ken, having seen how delighted I am by the picture.

I nod energetically. "Definitely! I think we can release several photos, but this one absolutely has to be among them."

"Just tell us which pictures you like best and we'll see to it that they're released to all appropriate media outlets," chimes in Oliver from where he's sitting next to Melissa. "We could also keep one or two photos for later release through social media."

"A bonus photo?" asks Melissa.

From the corner of my eye, I see Oliver shrug. "Pretty much, yes. Emmet is doing a good job taking care of the social media channels and an exclusive photo might bring even more attention to them. Provided you agree, Sir, Ma'am?"

"I'm sure you've got it all under control," Ken replies casually, not sounding at all like he cares overly much about how and when the photos are released. (Not that I can blame him. We've got so much to worry about that details like these just aren't important enough to turn up on our radar.)

"We'll take care of it," promises Oliver. After years of working for Ken, I guess he's got a pretty good idea of which questions Ken is interested in and which ones the staff can just decide for themselves.

Ken hands back the phone to Melissa, just in time for the driver to announce, "We arrive in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" I shriek. "But I'm not prepared! I need more than five minutes!"

"You're perfectly well-prepared," Ken counters calmly. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you could recite the entire preparation material by heart. And that's even though I think that for whatever reason, your folder was much thicker than mine."

He isn't wrong about that. I had a quiet word with the staff about limiting Ken's prep material to the necessary bits, especially when he has a lot on his plate in general. They were very accommodating and understanding about it and I think Ken appreciates the more concise material, but when it came to prepare for my very first royal engagement, I demanded that Melissa give me everything she has in background info – and then I might or might not have proceeded to learn it by heart.

"We just like to be well-prepared," Melissa covers blithely and when I look back, she winks at me.

I dare a weak smile, but my heart appears to have jumped into my throat from nervousness and even the weak smile flickers and dies too quickly. I need more time!

Okay, deep breath, Rilla. Deep, deep breath!

"Do you want me to go through the itinerary again?" Oliver offers.

"Yes." I nod. "Yes, please."

He consults some papers, but I suspect he doesn't really need them either, because Oliver is a very, very good private secretary and also knows the itinerary by heart. Still, he dutifully reads from the papers, "First, you're meeting the mayor at Cardiff Castle and he will show you around the castle's main rooms. Next up, you'll attend a children's rugby match in Bute Park, before travelling to St Fagans, where you'll tour some of the houses and hear a presentation about the life of coal miners in Wales. At the National Museum, school children will lead you around the Evolution of Wales gallery. Afterwards, we'll travel to Cardiff Bay where there's a walkabout scheduled to meet the public before we'll bring the day to a close in Wales Millennium Centre with a performance of Kovanshchina by the Welsh National Opera."

I knew all this. Having it repeated back to me does nothing to make me feel less nervous though. There are just so many opportunities to mess up!

Ken rubs his thumb over the back of my hand comfortingly. "You're well-prepared, you're dedicated, you're one of the kindest people I know and you have a knack for connecting with people that never ceases to amazes me. Just be yourself and it should be perfectly fine."

"Easy for you to say," I grumble. "But there are very many people out there and they might think differently!"

"They won't," he promises. "In fact, if anything, I expect the excitement might be so extreme that it could get overwhelming, but if you want to, you can stick close to me the entire day. There's absolutely no shame in that. If you do feel like venturing out on your own a little and it becomes too much, give a signal to me, Oliver or Melissa and one of us will come to you. During the walkabout, Hanson will be by your side and have an eye on everything anyway, and during the actual events, you and I will be together. You won't be alone out there, not for a single second."

I take a deep breath, but his words had the desired effect of making me feel a little calmer. I won't be alone, he's right about that, and the thought helps a little.

Turns out he's also right about the excitement and about it being overwhelming, because… wow.

Just wow.

We see the people lining the street long before we pull up in front of the castle. They stand at least ten deep on both sides, waving flags and handwritten signs and cheering as our car rolls past. From the looks of it, you'd be forbidden for thinking this was the Oscars and we were sharing our car with a major movie star.

Or, well, I guess in this… I guess we are the stars, aren't we?

How deeply, utterly surreal!

"Ready?" Ken asks when the car comes to a stop close to the castle entrance.

"No," I reply, "but I don't think I'll ever feel ready, so we might as well do this."

He kisses the back of my hand, before letting go of it just as the car doors are opened from the outside. Breathing deeply, I make one last attempt to slow down my racing heart (to no effect, mind), before turning towards the door and swinging my legs from the car. As I do, I make sure carefully keeping my knees locked together so I don't accidentally flash anyone. (It's an super hero skill, I'm telling you!)

Ken got out before me and when my feet hit the pavement, he's already there by the side of my door and offers me his hand to take. I lay my shaking hand in his and duck out of the car completely.

Immediately, the shouting becomes deafening.

"Rilla!" "Rilla, here!" "Please, Rilla!" "We love you, Rilla!" "Can we take a picture, Rilla?" "Congratulations, Rilla!" "You're so beautiful, Rilla!"

Raising both eyebrows, I look at Ken nervously, but he smiles a reassuring smile and clasps my hand firmly in his. "Ready?" he mouths.

I take a deep breath, before jerking my head downwards once in what might count as a nod. Clinging to Ken's hand, I allow him to lead me towards a random spot by the crowd barriers that hold the many people away from us. When they see where we're going, those on the other side groan in disappointment, but there are excited squeals from a group of young girls that Ken is leading me towards. They're brandishing large signs with cut-out pictures of Ken and me and self-drawn hearts. There's even glitter!

"Oh my God!" shrieks one of them.

"I can't believe this is happening!" cries her friend

"I love your coat, Rilla!" yelps a third.

Today's outfit was, once again, a collaborative effort between Leslie, Tatty, Katie and me. With their advice in mind, I'm wearing a navy dress under a light yellow coat with shoes in a brighter shade of yellow. There's also a matching clutch, but Melissa is holding that one so that I have my hands free.

"Thank you," I tell the third girl and attempt a friendly smile. "It's Zara. The coat, I mean. The dress is from Whistles."

Immediately, she whips out her phone from her handbag. "I need to get the coat! Quick!" Thus prompted, at least one other girl follows suit and I immediately feel bad for them.

"It's a past season piece, I'm afraid," I explain apologetically. "I got it some years ago."

The girls, however, remain unperturbed as they're typing on their phones. "They'll re-release it within the hour," one of them informs me confidently. "We just need to make sure to set a bookmark so we'll be first to pre-order it."

Uh… okay?

Slowly, I raise my gaze from the two girls – and find myself looking at the back of several dozen phones. It seems like everyone has their phone out and shoves it as close to Ken and me as possible. There are dozens upon dozens of phones, photographing and recording me, ready to capture any misstep I make.

Deep breath, Rilla. No need to panic!

I barely have time to calm myself – or to freak out properly – though, because just seconds later, I feel my free hand being grasped. When I jerk my head to the left, I see a middle-aged woman who's currently shaking my hand up and down with vigour.

"It's such an honour to meet you," she gushes. "We've been following your love story for so many years and we were just so thrilled to hear about your engagement, weren't we, Patty?"

The woman next to her (Patty, I assume), nods eagerly. "So romantic!"

Their excitement strikes me mute for a moment, but thankfully, Ken is there to step in, as suave as ever. "Thank you. That's very kind of you to say."

"Very kind," I parrot while at the same time trying to carefully extract my hand from the grasp of Patty's friend. She only lets go reluctantly, but ultimately does so and Ken quickly moves us along.

"Hello," I automatically greet the next people lined up, a young family with two children. "Good morning."

"Good morning!" That's the mother who simultaneously pushes her daughter forward. "Say hello to Princess Rilla, darling."

"Hello, Princess Rilla!" the girl pipes up and beams at me widely.

Following my instinct, I crouch down opposite her, with just the metal barrier separating us. As I do, my hand slips from Ken's hold and after a quick look to make sure I'm okay, he lets go of me.

"What's your name?" I ask the girl, speaking loudly so that I'm not drowned out by the people still shouting my name from all possible directions. (It's like Ken is not even here!)

"Ava!" she replies proudly, bestowing another gap-toothed smile at me.

"Hello Ava," I greet her. "You're a very pretty young woman. I love your shoes."

Her shoes are sparkly with a colourful butterfly on each. As a child, I would have readily murdered someone to get my hands on shoes like that.

Accordingly, Ava looks very pleased with herself. "I picked them out myself!"

Yes, I thought so.

"You have exquisite taste," I praise her, causing her to giggle happily.

"I have to go greet all these other people now," I add, "but it was an honour to meet you, Ava."

Still giggling, she picks up the hem of her dress and curtsies dramatically. She doesn't make a half-bad job of it either.

"Well done!" I praise and give her a thumbs-up, before straitening again. As I do, I'm faced with Ava's parents and absent-mindedly shake their hands while looking for Ken from the corner of my eye.

During my conversation with Ava, he apparently kept walking and his currently speaking to an elderly couple some feet away from me. I make an automatic move to follow him, but then stop myself and take a moment to assess the situation.

There's still shouting from all sides, to a point where it all becomes an indiscernible melee of sound that wraps around me. Wherever I look, there are phones held aloft to film and photograph us (well, mostly me, I think, because today, I'm the attraction) and without knowing exactly how many people are lining the streets, there's no doubt that thousand or more pairs of eyes are firmly fixed on me.

Still, no need to panic! I've got it all under control!

I just mean to turn and follow Ken, when there's a sound lifting from the general noise around us and drawing my attention.

Apparently, some people on the other side of the street organised themselves to shout simultaneously, "Come over here, Rilla!" Together, they're loud enough for their request to carry over to me clearly and it appears that Ken heard it as well, because he looks back at questioningly.

I don't give myself much time to decide, instead squaring my shoulders and meeting his gaze openly. "I think I'm going to go meet people over there," I tell him, hoping that I sound more confident than I feel. "It's easier if we split up."

Upon hearing that, the people gathered before me grumble in protest, but I just give them a quick apologetic smile. They have Ken and anyway, it's not like I can splice myself in half!

"Are you sure?" Ken asks, coming a few steps closer.

I nod, not allowing myself to second-guess my decision. "Positive," I confirm. "I'll see you at the castle entrance."

For a moment, Ken's eyes search my face, but then he nods as well, his lips spreading in a proud and affectionate smile. I respond with a somewhat nervous smile of my own, before turning around and, with Hanson and Melissa hot on my heels, walking over to the other side of the street.

When the people there realise I'm coming towards them, they raise a collective cheer. While I walk, even more phones are held aloft to record the monumental event of me crossing a cordoned-off street. It's almost a little ridiculous, but I can't deny that secretly, I'm a bit flattered, too. All these people are here to meet me. Me!

They also appear to all want to shake my hand, because when I reach the barrier separating them from me, there are at least ten hands shoved towards me, some from people all the way in the back. Remembering the videos of royal walkabouts that I watched in preparation for today, I follow the example set in those videos and reach out to shake as many hands as I can.

"Hello, so nice to meet you!" I say to no-one in particular, hoping they will all feel similarly addressed.

"We're very proud that you came to Wales first!" a middle-aged man informs me.

"Have you been here before?" asks a woman I take to be his wife.

Regretfully, I shake my head. "Sadly, no, but I plan to come back often from now on."

Even as I speak, I already start moving again, because before today, I was advised from all sides not to get drawn in a longer conversation during a walkabout. The aim is to 'meet' as many people as possible, not to strike up friendships.

"Are you enjoying Wales so far?" an elderly woman with perfectly coiffed hair wants to know.

"I am," I assure. "It's such a beautiful country!" (Truth to be told, the most I saw of Wales so far was from above when we flew here in a helicopter, but the kind woman with her impeccably hairstyle doesn't need to know that, does she?)

The next hand appearing in front of my face brandishes a bunch of flowers, waving it around slightly so I couldn't possible miss it.

"Thank you!" I exclaim as I carefully take the flowers. "They're very pretty. So thoughtful of you!" The person who gave me the flowers is standing in the second or third row and I'm not entirely sure which of the people facing me actually gifted me the bouquet, so I just smile gratefully in the general direction where I suspect them to stand.

Still holding the flowers, I walk another two or three steps – and immediately, Melissa appears at my side and accepts the flowers from me. From the prep material, I know that she'll take all the gifts I'm being offered by the public until she can no longer carry them either, at which point someone else will bring them to the car. We're not going to take them home though, because the flowers will be donated to local hospitals before we leave and as for the pink unicorn plush toy I'm currently handed by a young woman in a gorgeous red coat, I expect they'll find some children's charity to accept that one.

"Thanks! So sweet of you!" I thank the young woman and make the unicorn briefly nod its head, before passing it on to Melissa the moment I'm past the woman in the red coat. (Should I have asked her where she got it, I wonder?)

It continues like that, me shaking as many of the hands thrust at me as I possibly can, making inconsequential small-talk and accepting flowers and other small gifts that the people brought, before handing them on to Melissa. (Her arms are full with things within moments and Anisa Maina, Ken's new assistant private secretary, quickly comes running to relieve her of my bounty.)

If I'm being honest, the next few minutes turn into a sort of blur of smiles and handshakes and flowers, and far too quickly, I lose count of how many times I've assured someone that Wales is a beautiful and special country and that I love being here. Which isn't a lie, don't get me wrong, but I must admit it's all getting to be a bit much, too.

I guess Ken knew what he was talking about when she said it might become a little overwhelming.

Still, I carry on with the greeting and the smiling, always observed by the many phone cameras and the professional cameras set up by the press gaggle a little further down the road. The people gathered on my side of the street seem genuinely pleased that I'm here to meet them, showing open enthusiasm when I only do as little as give their hands a quick squeeze.

It's lovely, to see that they're genuinely happy to have me here, and as I get used to the frenzy and excitement around me, I slowly feel myself grow calmer, too, and even – start to enjoy myself? They're friendly, kind, welcoming people and they're glad to have me, which is an incredibly encouraging thought. In comparison, it almost feels like it's not enough to just exchange platitudes and smile for the phone cameras, but there's logic to the advice of 'keep moving and meet as many people as possible'.

In the end, I don't even get to meet all of the people on my side of the road, because some ten or fifteen minutes in, Hanson appears at my side, telling me quietly, "We're moving on, Ma'am. His Royal Highness is already waiting by the castle entrance."

"Understood," I murmur back while smiling gratefully at the woman currently presenting me with crocheted egg warmers that are meant to represent Ken and me. It's sweet, if a little creepy.

Passing the egg warmers to Melissa, I take a step back and raise a hand to wave, letting people know that my meeting time is over. There are groans and shouts of protest, but I just smile and wave some more as I start walking to where I spy Ken waiting for me next to a kind-faced, slightly portly man.

"Are we much behind schedule?" I ask Melissa softly while we walk.

"A few minutes," she mutters, trying her hardest not to drop the six bunches of flowers she's juggling in her arms. "But then, I have a feeling that being behind schedule is something we'll have to get used to when you're meeting the crowds."

"You know what?" I reply, smiling to myself. "I have a feeling you're right."


The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'City of New Orleans' (written by Steve Goodmann, released by Arlo Guthrie in 1972).


To Guest:
Yes, Anne and Leslie are definitely becoming friendly. I don't see them being as close friends as they are during AHoD, because they live so far apart and have established circles separate from one another, but they share the joy of seeing their children happy and the determination of helping see that happiness through. That's no small connection!

To DogMonday:
It's always fun to write the family, even in a pared down way as they are here! The Blythe men, alas, remained at home, as did any women who married into the family. For one, my characters already have too much time off work all the time anyway, so I figured I'd leave some of them at home to actually earn some money ;). For another, I thought it would be fun to make this a 'girls trip', with just Anne and der daughters, similar to how I imagine they sometimes had 'girls days' back when the daughters were younger. Plus, they have such a big, boisterous family that sometimes, more can be accomplished by splitting into smaller groups. That doesn't mean the men aren't involved in the wedding from afar, but sitting through dress fittings and planning flower decoration is probably not where most of them shine anyway, so we'll leave that to the women.
Leslie and Anne did, indeed, meet for the first time at the big birthday party and I imagine they also had tea or dinner afterwards with their husband and children to allow everyone to get to know each other better, but yes, this is the first time they get to meet up with just the two of them present. Anne, being Bertha's daughter, isn't overly cowed by fancy titles and Leslie knows that Anne, as Rilla's mother, is someone she can trust without reservations, so that helps them get off a good footing. I don't picture them exchanging confidences, but they have the wedding planning to focus on and, I think, probably also touched on Rilla and Ken as a couple in their conversation, at least inasmuch as they're glad that the two of them worked it out and are happy together. It's an instant shared topic of conversation and then they can go from there.
I must say I don't fully realise the need for a coat of arms either, but Kate's family got one and Meghan got one for herself (despite being an American citizen), so apparently, it's regarded as a necessary aspect of becoming royal. I guess it's a visual way to represent the family and something they can print on their fancy stationary paper if they so desire? Back in the day, you sewed your coat of arms on a flag when you rode into battle, but from what I understood, it's mostly a relic now and not much used in actual real life. (Though if anyone more knowledgeable about the present use of a coat of arms wants to weigh in, information is always welcome!)
Yes, the Amy-centric chapter is coming up soon (two more weeks, I think) and while this was never Amy's story, I hope it explains some of her insecurities and also offers options for her to overcome them and start on a way forward. There aren't enough chapters left for her to work through this fully, so we will never reach a point that has Amy be as confident and comfortable in royal life as Rilla, but I want to give her an idea of the path ahead, at the very least, and some actual hope that motivates her to tackle what is holding her back now.
Of course, take your time with that
Dark Clouds review! I must admit I'm intrigued about the question mark you mention, but I can be patient and wait for when you have the time and head space to write a comment =).

To Mammu:
Of course I remember you! I hope you and the little one are doing well!
Yes, the tiaras do, indeed, all exist. I had some fun ogling them, so if you ever have a free minute while someone is asleep, I can only suggest giving them a look. Lots of sparkly diamonds!
The story won't end quite yet ;). I have nine more chapters waiting to be published, which take is right through to the end of July. And the next story is not just planned, it is, in fact, already in the works, so there's a chance I will transition from one story to the next without much of a break. (Maybe a week or two, depending how it goes.) And while I'm writing, I'm already planning the next-next story, so... you won't get rid of me quite so easily ;). I hope the same goes for you as well, so whenever there's a free moment and a thought strikes you, feel free to drop it, whether it be on this story or the next - or even the next-next!

To AnneShirley:
Hello again! I'm very happy to hear from you, but also very sorry that you were caught in a riverdarkness! There's really no need to apologise for anything, I'm just relieved to know that you're feeling better and I hope that things will look brighter for you from now on. Please know that I'm thinking of you and sending you lots of positive thoughts and wishes!