Underground

His father used to say, time heals all.

He was right, of course, but sometimes the process can be slow. Looking back, it had taken several months for him to get over his loss. For him, the embarrassment of having his wife leave him was probably the worst part. He’d returned from a short business trip, only to find the house empty. Some of her clothes, a small suitcase and her passport were the only things missing. Naturally, at the time he had reported her missing to the police. The rumour was that she’d been seen entering the Queensway underground station in London on the day of her disappearance, but nothing came of it.

The very nice woman he met in his local library, who knew about his loss, had showed much-needed understanding at that time. In fact, this relationship blossomed and they married a year later. This new life was just what he needed. He was able to return to his work with renewed vigour and his company, involved mainly in the design of underground carparks, was glad to have him back on board.

Now, several years later, his life with his second wife and their precious children was everything that he could ever hope for. His work, travelling around the country consulting with major building companies, had gone from strength to strength. He had taken on a more senior role with the company that involved an annual conference in London.

It was during this yearly event that he took the opportunity to make brief, unscheduled visits to a special place. It was a private occurrence known only to him. It was something special for him. He would make his way to Epping Forest, a vast area of ancient woodland, less than an hour from the city. There, he would find his usual spot where he would pull off the road and park.

From there he would take the five-minute walk into a remote part of the forest. Over the years he had learnt the route by heart. Here, he came to the configuration of three great oak trees that formed an almost perfect triangle. At a point in the centre of this he would stand and silently recall.

For just a few brief moments he would immerse himself in the satisfying significance of that very special spot…

15 thoughts on “Underground”

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