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’ He took my hand gently, and led me onto the path by the river. ‘I want to show you my secret spot. I used to come here when I was alone, with just my notebook. I never took anyone to it. It is my home.’ He told me this with the same nearly whispered voice. There was so much meaning in the words. It meant this place to which he guided me was to be a place in which he wanted me feel safe. He led me off the pathway after a short stroll. We walked into a small expanse of trees. We came to a rocky overhang near a steep hill. There was a large stone that worked perfectly as a bench. We sat on the stone, and words that had been stuck inside me made their way out of me. He shook his head softly. He put his fingers to my lips. ‘We were both young and we were both looking for more than we should have. We made mistakes and we have been apologizing for far too long.’ Tears threatened. His hand moved toward my face again, and brushed the tears away. He smiled shyly. I looked into his eyes. Joan Sims was Secretary, her husband was Steve, Michael Walton was appointed Treasurer, helped by his ditsy wife Sue Ellen, Cesar Norello and his scrumptious wife Vikki took care of the replies and arranged accommodation for the out-of-towners, whilst Bev and Tony Walton, Clive and Betty Jones, Peter and Sue Cook and Laurie and Lyn Walton made up the sixteen of the organising committee. Each descendant was assigned a particular duty and was expected to be assisted by their spouse.The committee at first decided to meet fortnightly until about six weeks before the reunion, then meet as necessary, probably twice weekly.The first meeting was at the Lord High Poobaa's home and before the night was out, they had split into virtually two groups. Whilst there was no hidden agenda for the partitioning of the group, each group seemed to strike an affinity among their smaller group, without any hassle being evident among the whole group.They decided to have future meetings at each other's homes,.
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