He'd sat in silence for some time, Matron, too, silent at his side, before he spoke, finally at a decision. "I need to speak to her. You said she ran out the marquee?"

"Yes. She was very distraught Gordon."

He pictured Jill's face, remembering all the times he'd seen her upset, remembered how beautiful she always looked even through tears. The last time she'd allowed him to see her tears haunted her, the desperation in her face as she begged him to stay, as he walked away. "I need to find her, Matron." He spoke, a note of desperation in his tone. "I can't let her deal with everything alone again."

"Okay." Matron's steady, rational voice served to calm him somewhat. "Where would she have gone?"

"I don't know... Home maybe." He glanced around him, as if trying to find an answer. As he glanced to his left, a sign caught his eye. "The Italian Gardens. She's always liked it there."

"Right, I'll phone your house, and you check the gardens. Meet me in reception."

He nodded, watching her stride off before he went in the opposite direction. The light improved as he stepped out from under the cover of the pergola, but as he descended into the Italian Gardens, passing under a canopy of trees, it darkened again, the leaves blocking out the little light from the moon. He walked cautiously, wary of each footfall on the unseen surface. The moonlight illuminated the path again when he passed out from under the trees. He scanned the garden thoroughly, pausing when he caught a shape or shadow, his heart leaping in the hope it was his wife, each time a little more disappointment filling him as he realised it was a shrub or a bench, or the shadow cast by a rose bush. Eventually he turned, heavy hearted and made his way back up the path. Worry began to build within him. If Matron had received no luck on the phone... Where was Jill?