Letters
Justin wandered down to his mailbox and fumbled about the bills until he spotted familar hand writting. Ghita. Breath escaped him as he opened it and read...
Dear Justin,
I recieved the last of your e-mails about 5 months ago wherein you left me bloody hard riddles to figure out where you were. Don't you worry, dear, I won't tell a soul where you are; I swear on Tessa's grave, as harsh as that may sound. I have some news for you, right from Sandy Woodrow's mouth:
"On the same day that he arrived in Britain--the same night, more accurately--Justin sent a somewhat disingenuous letter to the Head of Personnel advisinng her that he was taking leave to sort out his wife's affairs. He used the ordinary mail, which in effect gave him three days to get clear. By the time Personnel moved to put a restratining hand on him--for his own good, I may add--he'd disappeared from everybody's screens. Signs are, he went to considerable lengths to conceal his movements. He's been traved to Elba, where Tessa had estates, but by the time the Office got on the scent he'd moved on. Where to, God knows, but there are suspicions. He'd made no formal leave application, of course, and the Office, for its part, was in the throes of deciding how it could best help him back on his feet--find him a slot where he could nurse his wouds for a year or two. Well, whatever he's doing, he's doing it alone. And he's certainly not doing it for us."
I say, you must be careful Justin, if they find out where you are then they'll come and snatch you in a heartbeat and possibly detain you in a low security mental institution. Please be careful when you're leaving the country, if you ever do; it's safe to stay there at the school and lay low.
Please stay safe.
Fondly,
Ghita.
Dear Justin,
I recieved the last of your e-mails about 5 months ago wherein you left me bloody hard riddles to figure out where you were. Don't you worry, dear, I won't tell a soul where you are; I swear on Tessa's grave, as harsh as that may sound. I have some news for you, right from Sandy Woodrow's mouth:
"On the same day that he arrived in Britain--the same night, more accurately--Justin sent a somewhat disingenuous letter to the Head of Personnel advisinng her that he was taking leave to sort out his wife's affairs. He used the ordinary mail, which in effect gave him three days to get clear. By the time Personnel moved to put a restratining hand on him--for his own good, I may add--he'd disappeared from everybody's screens. Signs are, he went to considerable lengths to conceal his movements. He's been traved to Elba, where Tessa had estates, but by the time the Office got on the scent he'd moved on. Where to, God knows, but there are suspicions. He'd made no formal leave application, of course, and the Office, for its part, was in the throes of deciding how it could best help him back on his feet--find him a slot where he could nurse his wouds for a year or two. Well, whatever he's doing, he's doing it alone. And he's certainly not doing it for us."
I say, you must be careful Justin, if they find out where you are then they'll come and snatch you in a heartbeat and possibly detain you in a low security mental institution. Please be careful when you're leaving the country, if you ever do; it's safe to stay there at the school and lay low.
Please stay safe.
Fondly,
Ghita.