HAPPY CHRISTMAS YOU HEATHEN

The letter wrapped up rapidly. I half expected some more pages to promptly follow but nothing came in the post. Hastily scribbled in a red pen half way down the page, Louis brought it all to a close. He agreed to go on traveling the country with Susie but only if he could return first to Katoomba to pick up a manilla folder of papers he said he'd need. And once there, rather than repeat the drive north, they decided to head south. So that's what we did, he said, we drove down the south coast and stayed there a while, places like Tilba, Bermaguii, some place called Tathra I think, Eden, Wilsons Promontory, and then a hellish hot drive on to Melbourne, which is where she left me, making a few calls and then boarding a plane to take her back to London, or so I thought. Here comes the postman. Happy Christmas you heathen. Louis.