Hello there! Boy, this coming Blue Moon is really something. "I can feel it coming in the air tonight..."

Such great comments and insights, I don't know where to begin. Madonna complex? Yes, I was probably a little on the nose with that one. I don't know if Ken sees Una as a mother or not. I think (what I was going for at least) is that so much of his identity was tangled up with this Lady's Man persona, and he didn't know who he was without it. And Una doesn't ooze sex appeal etc so he was suddenly intrigued by her. She's like a map, in a way, of who he might be. That little scene in the office where he's suddenly attracted to her and then cuts it off, was to show that he doesn't want his link with her to end up going down the same road his relationships with girls always go down. But what he's really in denial about is that he has a good, charitable, unselfish side to him too - that's his true link to Una. Though I have to say, the bucket scene was one the most interesting sex scenes I have ever written. When Una said, "You're enjoying this." I was thinking: Ha ha Una, and you're not? Parno, your thoughts on the whole Madonna thing was brilliant too. When Ken decided to go on his mission, was he acknowledging who he was, or was he running away from his mess with Rilla? Probably both, but as I was writing, I was thinking, Ken are you ever going to think about Rilla for one second. But of course, he didn't (ugh Ken!) which is why when he saw her, oh those chickens really came home to roost. Right in the feels. Alinya, your "You too" comment gave me chills. And yes, Teddy has a problem with domestic bliss, that's why he prefers the crummy ol' view of a compost heap and a lonely lighthouse, to the beauteous delights of the Valley. The way he was like, "Those are the tree bells, that's the church." So separate from it all. Silly boy. Oh, J, I loved the cigarette papers too, and how she thought the girl Ken dumped must have been a fool. You know when you're thirteen and you think seventeen year old boys are gods? Oh Lord, how I cringe to remember it. And I laughed as I was writing about Walter's famous poem not being that good. Sheesh, everyone's a critic :op I'm glad you like what I said about Una not liking herself. I think she needed a bomb under her, and Ken provided the fuse. So often it's the ugly, depressing, negative thoughts that we refuse to acknowledge that keep us in stasis. Gotta get that pus out, as Jem would say. I am also really enjoying your reactions to Rilla (to me she is an acquired taste like Emma). The flouncing, the bossing, the italicised Una, but of course she is running blind because she doesn't know Ken's true intentions about going to France (though I do get why Ken couldn't bring himself to tell her). The comment about expectations was so beautiful, thank you, that was just what I meant. I know I shouldn't really explain my own reasoning, but we're nearly 50 chapters in now, so forgive the lapse in authorial detachment. Love you all and thank you! k.

49

August 10th, 1919

Dear Rilla,

I've just arrived at le Havre and am settling into quarters. It's a far cry from the usual fox hole, I can tell you. My bedroom has trompe l'oeil panelling all over it. Nymphs and elves prying out from every painted tree. I keep expecting a fat Rusalka to enter at any moment…

Rilla put the letter down, it was the fourth or fifth time she had tried to read it. Of course, she was hungry to know how Ken was, what he was doing, if he ever thought of her, regretted her… but just when she thought she was ready to begin his letter again she lost her appetite by the third line. And besides, she had more pressing correspondence.

Mrs Constance Lester (nee Willoughby) had written the Blythes a thank you note for taking care of Teddy. Rilla's first thought had been to pass the note over to him, but soon she had a better idea.

"I don't know," said the Reverend when he was asked for his opinion, "it sounds a lot like meddling to me."

"Oh, a little meddling never did much harm," said his wife, "where would be without Una putting her oar in all those years ago?"

"That was a very different case," John's face coloured all the way to the edges of his ears. "Rilla is talking of - what were you talking of again?"

Rilla put away the last of the chairs and walked with the Merediths to the front door of the hall. They had reached that tricky stage of the evening when Prayer Meeting was over and an invitation to come back to the Manse was ripe in the air. She was very aware that someone might come bowling in looking for their lost hat or fan, and while she wanted to avoid being overheard, she didn't want to talk about this around the Meredith's kitchen table either.

"Whether I should write back to Teddy's mother myself," she said. "Because I know that Teddy won't. He's not going to stay here forever and he's all alone in the world. That's not right, somebody should look out for him, don't you think? And I'm best placed to do it."

"That is a very kind sentiment," said John, 'but I wonder how you have come to such conclusions. Are you certain Teddy means to leave, are you certain he won't write back to his mother?"

Rilla paused and stared at her boots. "I was hoping you might provide the certainty."

"But you must know my advice would be to let Teddy decide the matter for himself."

"But he won't, Mr Meredith - I know he won't - you don't know him like I do."

"Dearest," Rosemary put her arm around the girl's shoulders, "whose worries are you hoping to quell, Teddy's or your own? Why don't we go up to the Manse and talk it over? Una baked four pies last night and we got to keep one."

Rosemary did her best to shepherd the reluctant girl out the door when Mrs Marshall Elliot bustled into the hall, looking for - they never discovered what she wanted because her opinions on Rilla Blythe came bursting forth the instant she saw her. How pale and jittery the maid was looking, well that's what you got for waiting on a man. Don't ever let them know you are waiting, that was the best way to manage 'em!

"I am done with waiting," the girl retorted, "Ken Ford may do what he will, " and she flounced past her rather rudely with her nose in the air.

John Meredith was left in rumpled company of Mrs Elliot, Rosemary dashed after Rilla who had already reached the gate. The bluster of before had noticeably gone, her shoulders drooped beneath her jaunty red jacket.

"Something tells me we won't be graced with your company tonight."

"I can't seem to find the answer I need in a poem," Rilla sighed. "Mightn't you send me away with a bible verse - that was all I wanted."

Rosemary was puzzled. These days Rilla always went to her mother for counsel. The two had become very close during the war - yes, they shared a deep understanding with each other. Was there something about her friendship with Teddy that Rilla did not want her mother to see - or was it something she was not ready to face. It was Jane and not Jesus Rosemary thought of when she remembered the lines: If she loved him less, she might be able to talk about it more. She tilted her head and smiled.

"May I give some advice of my own, such as it might be?"

Rilla gave a frustrated nod.

"Whatever you set into motion, dear, there will be consequences. So long as you can accept what they are then you can't do much harm."

"Were there consequences to Una's meddling, Mrs Meredith?"

"My goodness, yes. The most spectacular and miraculous kind."

"And what was that, if you don't mind me asking?"

Rosemary released a very sweet and very unexpected laugh. "Why, marriage, of course!"

...

next chapter to follow...