I need somebody to heal
Somebody to know
Somebody to have
Somebody to hold

Staring straight ahead, into the darkness, she clutched at her stole, and pulled it tighter around her shoulders. The taxi had stopped to give way at the crossroad but was soon rumbling back to life. They only had a short distance to travel, and on any other night, it would have been a pleasant evening stroll through the city's centre. As if sensing the tension from the back seat, the driver quickly worked his way through the gears, and they were soon travelling at speed again along the quiet city street.

Ordinarily, his hand on her knee would be reassuring, playful, a possessive sign that she was his. But he was clutching her leg so tightly, she was starting to worry that he might leave marks or bruises. Stealing a sideways glance, she bit her lower lip. He was facing away from her, looking out the taxi's side window as the city rushed by.

There was only a handful of couples out at this hour, walking along the footpath, arms linked as they passed ornate buildings, whose windows were lit brightly against the dark night. Although he was looking at them, given his dark mood, he wouldn't notice them. Happy couples would be the last thing on his mind.

He was angry. Even in the dark taxi, even though he was facing away from her, she could tell. It was obvious in the way he held his head, the tightness in his shoulders, the strong, dark fingers digging into her leg. She was to blame. Her eyes dropped to her lap. She shouldn't have encouraged Hede to dance. It was obvious how much she liked the officer, and that he liked her. At the time, it seemed so ridiculous that Hede had to babysit her all night and couldn't enjoy herself or have some harmless fun. Praying he'd calm down by the morning, she hadn't expected him to be so angry with his sister.

But he'd been right. Leaving the safety of the ballroom had been a mistake, whether Max was with her or not. She hadn't given it a second thought when she'd urged Max to take Elsa home. She had no way of knowing what would happen next. She stole another glance sideways. He was still staring out the window. All evening, after hearing endless rumours and gossip, she was horrified that he had to then step in to save her from the two young men. Her cheeks grew hot, the humiliation flooding back. What must he be thinking of her now? He had to be wondering if she'd ever be suited to any of this. Why, he couldn't leave her alone for five minutes without her finding trouble. How could he not…

His hand gripped her tighter. Had he read her mind? Looking at his hand on her leg, she had to do something. Her leg was in real danger of being crushed. Letting go of her stole, one of her gloved hands came down, gently covering his. She didn't dare look at him, but he must have turned because she could feel his eyes on her. Feeling brave, she turned towards him, their eyes finding each other in the dark. From the look in his eyes, it seemed he'd suddenly realised where he was, and that she was there with him.

"Sorry, darling," he whispered, his words barely audible, as he loosened his grip on her leg.

"Georg…"

"Shhh…" it was barely a whisper as he motioned with his head in the direction of the driver. His eyes softened as he reached across with his other hand and brushed her cheek with his fingers, his eyes dropping to her lips. He slowly, tenderly, traced them with the soft pad of his thumb.

Not realising she'd still been chewing her lower lip, her eyes fluttered at his touch. She should have known better than try putting on a brave face. He could always see through her bravado. They'd had little chance to talk. She'd barely had time to explain why she was on her own in the courtyard. Hede was dancing, Max was taking Elsa home. And then, he'd launched into a tirade, cursing them both for leaving her alone.

Before she could explain much more, the courtyard had started filling up with people, and as the crowd grew, all hope of a sensible conversation disappeared. At least it had brought an end to his cursing. It was only then she'd noticed there was no sound of the orchestra playing in the background. People must have been getting some air while the orchestra was taking a break.

Even after he'd quickly led her out of the courtyard, they'd barely said a word to each other. Stopping at the cloakroom, he'd waved over a friend who happened to be walking across the foyer and asked him to pass on a message to Hede. Thankfully, he'd managed to keep it polite. They'd even waited for the taxi in silence. And now, desperate to explain her behaviour, she couldn't. She knew better than to start a conversation in front of the driver.

She opened her eyes as she felt him cover her hand that still rested on his. She wished she wasn't wearing gloves. His fingers started moving along the length of hers, slowly back and forth. Smiling, she turned to him. Her smile dropped away as she found him staring out the side window again.

He was shutting down, being swallowed up and consumed by his black mood. It's what he did. Left alone, he could be like this for hours on end, trying to make sense of things, churning things over on his own. Over time, gradually, he'd been letting her in, instead of shutting her out. It hadn't been easy, but looking at him now, she wouldn't have him any other way. After all, it was the dark, moody Captain who'd captured her heart first. He'd always be part of the brooding, complex man sitting beside her, part of the man she loved.

She looked down at their hands. It was always the same. When anything troubled him, he found it impossible to keep his hands still. Concentrating on the feel of his fingers, moving gently backwards, now forwards, along hers, she turned away from him to stare out the window beside her. But she wasn't taking in any of the sights. Her own thoughts were churning. The only thing she knew for certain was Georg's mood was dark. She had no idea if it was all her doing, or if it had something to do with what had been discussed behind closed doors. Lost in her own thoughts, the taxi pulled to a stop before she even realised.

She turned to Georg. He'd already taken several coins from the inside pocket of his coat and was handing them across to the driver.

"That's far too much, sir."

In the dim light, Maria could hear the coins jingling in the driver's palm as he worked out the change.

"Keep it," Georg waved a hand towards the driver as he opened the car door.

"Thank you, Captain von Trapp," the driver turned and nodded towards the back seat. "Enjoy your evening, sir," he added.

"Thank you," Georg shot over his shoulder to the driver, one foot already on the ground. Stepping out of the taxi, he closed the door firmly behind him.

Sitting alone in the back seat, Maria wondered if she'd been the only person in the world who'd had no idea who Captain von Trapp was. At the start of the summer, she'd never heard of him. But it seemed everyone else knew him, even complete strangers. As the door beside Maria opened, she forced a smile. Reaching out to take Georg's hand, she stepped onto the footpath. He closed the door behind her, as she smoothed down the skirt of her dress. Pulling her stole around her, a gust of the autumn night's cool breeze blew along the street, sending fallen leaves dancing along the footpath.

The taxi pulled away from the kerb and picked up speed as it travelled out of sight down the street. A young couple laughed in the distance before disappearing down a side street, leaving them alone with the doorman standing guard outside the imposing Hotel Imperial.

"It's such a beautiful night," Maria turned towards the empty cafes across the street. Through the shop windows, a handful of staff could be seen cleaning down tables, getting ready to close for the night. Whether it was the cool air, or the magic of the city street, she forgot about Georg's dark mood for a moment. "I'd love to go for a walk through Resselpark," she smiled, it was just that kind of perfect autumn night.

"What...?" He turned to her as if she was half mad. "Now?"

She shook her head at him and smiled. "Not in these shoes. I won't make it to the end of the street, let alone the park."

"That's very unlike you, Fraulein," forcing a half grin, he was struck by an image of his future bride in her evening dress walking through the dimly lit park in bare feet, shoes dangling nonchalantly, seductively, from her fingers. Even in the middle of his blackest moods, stray images of her still found him. "Letting a pair of heels beat you?" he asked, clearing his throat to chase away the dangerous thoughts.

"You have no idea how much my feet are aching," she turned to find him looking at her playfully. Not yet a real smile, but a hopeful sign that his dark mood might be lifting.

"How about we get you that room?" he was suddenly serious again.

She placed a hand on the arm he offered her, and they turned towards the imposing front doors of the hotel.

"I can't wait to get out of these shoes," Maria whispered, wincing after the first step.

"Good evening, Captain von Trapp," the doorman greeted them with a nod before opening the door. He seemed happy to see them, but Maria couldn't help thinking he'd probably be happy to see anyone on the deserted street. Georg nodded at him as they passed by, while she shot him a quick smile.

Making their way across the marble floor to the reception desk, their footsteps echoed around them. Like the street, the grand lobby, an ornate, cavernous room, was empty except for them. When they'd arrived in Vienna, Georg had driven directly to Hede's. With the weather so perfect, their time in the city had been spent walking the streets, eating at the outdoor cafes and taking in the sights. It was only now that Maria was seeing what lay behind the Hotel Imperial's grand façade.

"It's as beautiful as the Palace," she turned wide-eyed towards Georg, before quickly turning away to take in as much detail of the grand lobby as possible.

"Good evening, Captain von Trapp, may I help you?" the silver-haired man behind the desk enquired, as they came to a stop across from him.

"A room for Fraulein Rainer," Georg replied.

Maria's eyes travelled up the wood-panelled wall behind the man to the enormous painting that ran the entire length of the reception and concierge desk. It was a beautiful country scene of villas overlooking a lake. For a moment, her mind drifted to home. Glancing at the roman numerals on the large clock centred below the painting, she wondered if all the children were in bed yet. They'd promised to be on their best behaviour for Frau Schmidt. She missed them terribly. It was just after nine, so the older ones might still be reading, or sharing their last thoughts of the day in soft whispers.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but we don't have anything available," the man's deep voice brought Maria's attention back to the reception desk. Pencil poised, he looked up from the large, leather-bound ledger opened on the desk in front of him.

"A basic room will be fine," Georg told him. Maria turned to him, and he moved his hand on her back.

"Sir, I'm afraid we don't have any rooms at all," the man apologised again, this time over the top of his spectacles. "As you know only too well, Captain, it's the Officer's Ball," he explained, "unfortunately, we seem to be fully booked."

"I see…" Georg answered slowly, weighing up their options while he silently cursed Hede's ill-timed impulsiveness. He should have searched for her, found her, but he couldn't have stayed at the ball a moment longer. "Do you have another key to Herr Detweiler's room?"

"Herr Detweiler's room?" a frown creased the man's already lined forehead, before he remembered himself and who he was addressing, and the frown quickly fell away. "Won't Herr Detweiler be needing his room?" he enquired politely.

"Not tonight," Georg answered simply.

"Very well, Captain," the ring of doubt in his voice betrayed his look. Captain von Trapp had paid for both rooms, so he could hardly question his request. In fact, he was the kind of guest one never questioned. "Excuse me for a moment," turning, he disappeared through the doorway behind him to retrieve the spare key.

Maria glanced at Georg. Still staring straight ahead, waiting for the man to return, he gave her a wink. She turned away, confused. She could hardly share a room with Max, and she certainly couldn't share a room with Georg. Her cheeks suddenly grew hot at the thought.

The man returned to the desk holding the room key in his hand. Picking up the lead pencil, he made a note in the ledger book. "Room 312, Captain," the man held the key out across the desk. "You'll find it on the third level, sir, and I'm certain Fraulein…" turning to Maria, he hesitated.

"Rainer," Georg answered abruptly, "Fraulein Rainer."

The silver-haired man smiled. "I'm sure Fraulein Rainer will enjoy her stay."

"Thank you," Georg answered as he took the key.

"Do you require any assistance with bags?"

"That won't be necessary," Georg's response was blunt.

"Can I send housekeeping to either room?"

"Not tonight." An even blunter response.

"Good evening, Captain von Trapp," the man nodded at Georg, then turned to Maria, "Fraulein Rainer."

Turning away from the desk, Georg ushered Maria in the direction of the lifts. The attendant at the lift looked up. He'd lost interest in the couple standing at the reception desk across the lobby some time ago, but his attention was stirred by the sound of approaching footsteps echoing around the deserted lobby. Nodding, he pressed the button with an arrow pointing towards the ceiling. Most other nights, as guests came and went, there'd be a short wait before the lift made its descent to the lobby, but tonight the doors opened immediately. Georg stood aside to let Maria past, then joined her inside the lift.

"Thank you," Georg smiled at the young attendant before reaching across to press the button at the top of the panel beside the door. They watched the doors close in front of them and the lift whirred to life.

"Isn't Max's room on the third floor?" Maria blurted out.

"Do you honestly think I'd let you spend the night in Max's room?" Once again, he was staring at her like she'd gone completely mad.

"But, if he's not there…"

"But nothing," Georg reached out between them and took her hand in his, memories of Max's messy quarters and appalling housekeeping coming back to haunt him. "You'll stay in my room."

"With you?" her words were soft, barely audible over the sound of the lift.

"As nice as that would be, darling," he gave her a dark, dangerous look that set her heart racing, "no, not with me," he said each word slowly, deliberately. Her wide blue eyes held his for a moment, before he remembered himself. "I'll take over Max's room."

"What about Max?"

"I'll call Elsa's villa and tell him to spend the night there," Georg explained.

"Oh…" Maria said softly.

"I'll admit, it's not ideal," he turned away from her and stared straight ahead, the lift doors a far safer option than wide blue eyes and luscious lips. "But Max staying at Elsa's is far less likely to cause an international incident than anything else I can come up with at this hour of the night."

"In that case, I'll just take Max's room," it seemed the sensible thing to do.

"Maria…" he closed his eyes for a moment.

"It will save you moving your things," still looking at him, she noticed his jaw tighten. "Anyway, all my things are…" she stopped, reluctant to bring his sister into the conversation. "It would just make more sense…"

"Maria, darling," he cut off her protests, before pausing to take a deep breath. He wasn't in the mood to argue any more tonight. Not with her. "I will not have you sleeping in a third-floor broom cupboard while I'm swanning around in luxury."

"But…"

"Maria!" Georg snapped, his tone much harsher than he'd intended. The edge may have been taken off his black mood, but it was still circling and didn't need provoking. "Please," he whispered, "I don't want an argument," he quickly squeezed her hand, an apology of sorts. "Not tonight…" he added with a sigh.

Maria turned to look at him, the silence between them dragging out. He was right. She should know better than to provoke him. She reached across with her free hand and gently caressed his forearm. She understood. Staring straight ahead, his tight jaw loosened a little. The lift shuddered to a stop and the doors separated to reveal the top floor. Still holding her hand, he led her out of the lift and into the hallway. Like the lobby downstairs, the upper floor was quiet. She wondered if they were the only guests moving around the entire hotel tonight. Perhaps it was always this quiet.

Walking along the hallway in silence, Georg reached up with his free hand into the inside pocket of his jacket for the key to his suite. His hand wrapped tightly around the key as they walked along a hallway lined with artwork and broken occasionally by double doors leading to the grand suites found on the top floor.

When he'd booked their rooms a number of weeks ago, he'd been more than happy to take something far more modest. After all, there was only him, so he didn't need all the unnecessary space of a suite. Perhaps it was a hangover from years spent living in the cramped quarters of a U-boat. But, as usual, management had upgraded him to one of their premier suites, something called the Royal Suite, or some damn thing. It may have been fit for a king, but it was far too big for him. Last night, rattling around in all that space on his own had given him far too much time to think. Anyway, he'd much rather spoil Maria. She deserved it far more than him.

"It's the next one on the left," he whispered. Stopping outside the set of double doors, he turned the key in the lock and opened one of the doors. Standing aside, she walked past him.

She'd only taken a few steps into the suite before coming to an abrupt stop. Her eyes danced around a dimly lit sitting room with a large dining table. Even in the semi-dark, she could see the room was overflowing with furniture from a bygone era, adorned with antiques. On the walls, large mirrors and impressive works of art hung in gilded frames. But it was the view from the floor to ceiling windows flanking the far wall that had her holding her breath. The only light in the room came through the enormous windows.

She didn't hear the door close behind her as she took a few steps towards the closest window. Pulling the stole off her shoulders, she draped it over the back of one of the chairs placed around the dining table. Holding onto its high back, she kicked off her shoes. Relief at last. She flexed her toes, relishing the softness of the enormous rug covering the floor under the dining table.

Closing the distance between her and the window, she looked down to find marble under her aching feet. Its coolness as soothing as the soft rug. Down below, the city's lights shimmered against the darkness. Lifting her eyes, she looked across the rooftops to the floodlit dome of Saint Charles Church. It's was a stark contrast to the backdrop of black sky, littered with stars.

"Damn housekeeping," Georg muttered under his breath from somewhere behind Maria. "Let me draw the curtains so we can turn on a light." He stood beside her and took hold of the cord holding one of the drapes open.

"Oh, Georg, can we just enjoy the view for a few minutes?" Maria reached out with both hands, clutching his arm. "It's so beautiful," she whispered turning back to look out the window.

He stopped and stared out the window. She was right. The view of Vienna's night sky from the top floor of the Hotel Imperial was something to behold. He turned to her and smiled. She was staring out the window, her eyes bright, dancing, as they took in the view. Vienna at night might be a beautiful sight, but she, well, she was truly breathtaking. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

Maria let out a squeal of surprise as she fell against Georg's chest. Holding onto the lapels of his jacket, she smiled against him at the touch of his lips against her forehead. His arms tightened around her. It was hard to believe that only weeks ago, the arms of a man had been a completely foreign place to her. Now, she couldn't think of anywhere else in the world she'd rather be than held against Georg, surrounded by his love, wrapped in strong arms and drowning in his musky, male scent.

His body relaxed against hers as he buried his cheek in her hair. The night's tension finally finding a release. Relishing being in his arms again, she rose and fell gently with his chest, in time to his heavy breathing. She went to move, but his arms tightened around her, holding her against him. She froze for a moment. Something was different tonight. Was it relief, or resignation? Reaching up, she instinctively cradled his head to hers. Her fingers gently, tenderly raked back and forth through his hair, hoping to soothe whatever was worrying him.

"Tell me, what's wrong," she whispered, her words almost lost against his chest.

"Everything…" the word was hoarse, choked.

"Everything?" Maria's heart dropped, her body froze, her fingers stopped moving. She waited for his answer, but it never came. She tried to lift her head from his chest, but he tightened his hold, buried his cheek deeper into her hair. He let out what sounded like a sigh. His cheek moved against her hair. Was he wiping away tears? Tentatively, her fingers began to move slowly backwards and forwards from the nape of his neck, then raked gently through his hair. They found his neck again, before their tender path was stopped by the starched collar of his shirt. She took a deep breath, dreading her next question. "What do you mean everything?"

"Not you," he closed his eyes tighter against her hair, wishing he could hold her all night. He needed her soft body and soothing hands. "You, the children," he whispered, "you're all that's right in this damn world."

Maria pulled back, looking up at him. Blinking hard, he was trying to hide his emotions in the dimly lit room. She hated that he felt embarrassed, ashamed. "What happened tonight?"

"Nothing!" His stinging response was filled with anger and disgust.

Maria jumped at his sharp response, but his hand quickly found her cheek, cupping it gently. The best apology he could manage as memories from his earlier meeting brought a searing, boiling anger to the surface.

"Nothing? But I thought…"

"What, that we'd all remember the oath we pledged to Austria?" The rhetorical question was bitter and sarcastic. Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it affectionately before letting go. Another apology of sorts. "Some in the room might as well have been wearing uniforms of the Third Reich," his tone was cold. "Stooges, probably planted by the Fuehrer himself…"

"Oh…" she frowned at him. It now made perfect sense. The mood, his anger. "I was worried you were angry with me..." she said in a soft voice.

"Fraulein…" his eyes softened as he took her hand. "From the beginning, you've challenged me, provoked me," he watched her eyes grow wider, "fascinated me, captivated me, but you never angered me."

She arched a brow at him.

"Well, maybe a little," he smiled, a real smile that revealed the dimple near the corner of his mouth, but she just tilted her head a little to the side. "Well, alright, in the beginning, maybe a lot," he cupped her cheek. What would he do without her? The mere thought of her not being here by his side filled him with dread. "I love you so much," he whispered, his eyes dropping to her lips. He lowered his mouth to hers and caught her in a searing kiss. He went to pull back, but he couldn't stop at one. When his lips found hers again, their next kiss was deeper, longer. God, he could kiss her all night. Before he lost himself completely, he pulled back.

"What will we do?" she asked, a little out of breath.

His eyes softened at her question. Thank God she was here with him. He didn't have an answer yet, but he knew it would be bad. There would be few options, all of them devastating, and they'd be forced to choose the least bad of them. His thumb moved slowly back and forth, tracing her cheekbone. At least she was here with him. He wasn't alone. God, he loved her.

The past years had been overwhelming, he'd missed having someone like her. Someone like Agathe. Someone who understood him, who believed in the same world he did. He felt a sting of guilt. It hadn't been Elsa's fault. She'd only ever known him as the partying aristocrat without a care in the world. It couldn't have been further from the real him. He'd never let her into his world, as time went on, he couldn't. She might discover it was all a lie and he was nothing more than a fraud. In the end, the way things ended, it didn't matter. But it had never been like that with Maria. He didn't have to hide who he was or pretend to be someone else. She'd become his world. Her and the children. Just like Agathe. "I'm not sure what we can do," he finally answered.

"Well, we'll have to think of something," she gave him a reassuring nod.

"I can't," his voice was strained. "Not tonight."

"I didn't mean tonight, darling," Maria smiled, reaching for his hand. It had been moving madly against his leg. "Get over the disappointment of tonight," she still had little idea what had happened, but whatever it was, it was bad. "Tomorrow's another day. Let's try and forget all about it until then." He nodded slowly. "I'm here, Georg, you're not alone."

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I don't deserve you," he whispered before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Don't be silly," she smiled against his chest, that's what she kept telling herself about him.

If anyone could help him forget, it was Maria. But first things first. "I need to make a call," he loosened his hold. "The last thing I want is to share a room with Max," he answered her frown.

In the semi-dark, Maria watched him walk away from her across to the far corner of the sitting room where a telephone sat on one of the side tables. He looked so handsome in his tailcoat. Who was she fooling? She always thought he looked devastatingly handsome. As he picked up the telephone receiver from its cradle, his Maria Theresa medal shimmered as it caught a shard of light. He was braver than most men, prouder of his homeland than anyone else. Little wonder he was angry and disappointed at their disloyalty and fearfulness.

After a short pause, he spoke a few words into the receiver before waiting to be transferred to Elsa's villa. She turned away and stared out the window, once again looking out at Vienna's captivating night sky. But this time, she wasn't seeing any of the bright streetlamps, the lit windows of the apartments below, or even the glittering night sky.

Georg had assured her that Austria's armed forces would answer the call to arms, convinced that every officer's allegiance to the flag was as strong as his own, their loyalty unwavering. She wrapped her arms around her waist. What would they do now? It seemed what had been unimaginable only hours ago, might actually happen. No wonder he was devastated and bitterly angry. Now they might just have to face the unthinkable…

Waiting for someone to pick up the telephone, Georg turned towards Maria. She was gazing out the window again. Any other time, he'd have lost patience waiting this long for his call to be answered. He would have hung up in a volley of curses. But his mind was racing, the jumble of thoughts drowning out the sound of the incessant dial tone. It was impossible to predict what the future might bring, but he needed a plan. A central plan with options in case circumstances changed mid-stream. Careful, meticulous planning had served him well in the navy and life, it's what his family needed now.

He knew only too well what happened when he lurched along with no plan, completely clueless and helpless. He couldn't do that to his children again. His eyes were still on Maria. She would make sure that wouldn't happen. But what could he do? There had to be another way. Every scenario was unthinkable. Not even…

"Oh, hello…" he cleared his throat, wondering how long the person at the other end had been trying to get his attention. "May I speak to Herr Detweiler?"

As Elsa's butler went to find Max, he kept looking at Maria, his eyes narrowing. He should realise, he could get through anything with her by his side. Illuminated by the strange, half-light coming through the window, she looked like an apparition. An angel of mercy. God, she looked gorgeous.

Despite days of nerves, she was captivating in her evening gown. The most beautiful woman in the ballroom tonight, the one every man wanted to dance with. He'd noticed the way they'd looked at her. But that was just it. She had no idea, and it's what made men want her more. His fingers started moving, flexing at the uncomfortable thought.

Did she realise she could have had any of the men at the ball tonight? A dashing young officer, a count, even a prince. Instead, she'd settled for a miserable old fool. Like so many times before, he wondered why.

His eyes travelled slowly down her long, slender neck, following the exposed skin of her back until it met the neckline of her gown. His gaze settled for a moment on her tiny waist before following the outline of her hips against the figure-hugging dress. He gripped the telephone tighter, forgetting some time ago that he was being made to wait. His eyes moved upwards again. God, he wanted to touch her. He needed her back in his arms, needed her to make this go away. She was right. Tomorrow, she could help him make sense of this world. Tonight, she could help him forget.

The fingers on his free hand were drumming his leg, moving instinctively. He needed to touch her. She was too far away. He wanted to skate his fingers across her soft skin, to run a finger beneath the strap of her dress. Teasing himself, as much as her, before letting it slip from her shoulder. Before leaning down…

"Erhm…" God, where was he? "What was that?"

The crisp voice repeated itself down the line.

"Oh, I see… Thank you," he whispered. Still staring across the room at Maria, his eyes never leaving her, he hung up the telephone, but missed the cradle. Spinning around at the sudden noise, she gave him the tiniest of smiles.

Had he heard right? Surely, there must be some mistake…

Thank you everyone for your kind reviews, especially the guest reviewers who I can't thank personally.

Apologies for taking so long to post this update. To be honest, writing hasn't been easy these past weeks. Normally, TSOM is my happy place, the magical world where I escape. But as the current horrors spread out around the world, tuning out from this nightmare has been difficult, escaping impossible.

Thoughts and prayers to everyone who's been personally touched by the tragedy of COVID-19. A huge debt of gratitude to all the healthcare and frontline workers, and everyone supporting their heroic efforts. Saying thank you seems so inadequate these days given the work you're doing and what you have to face.

It seems that most of us are in some form of shutdown, lockdown or some variation in between. Everyone, stay safe, stay strong, but most importantly, if you can, please stay at home.

I don't own TSOM, just having a lend.

I should also mention that some of my Georg's thoughts of Maria are borrowed from Christopher Plummer. In his autobiography, he credits his wife of 50 years, Elaine Taylor, for being the "angel of mercy" who came to his rescue. In an interview with "The New York Times" in 2004, when speaking about his wife, he said: "I feel guilty sometimes that I denied her a wonderful life, that she's wasted on some terrible old ham. She could have married a duke or a prince!"

With our worlds upended and barely recognisable, even more than before, "immerse your soul in love" and be kind to yourself and others.