Chapter 21: Shibari - May

18 Months, 567 Days Since Jenny's Disappearance

FITZROVIA

I am back in London, at a meeting with the Consulting Engineers working with us, on the Cambodian Project. The meeting is to review "strategic opportunities and future development". I don't have high hopes for it.

Their offices occupy one of the gracious Georgian terraced buildings which form the sides of Fitzroy Square and the conference room looks into the Square across the gardens, towards what used to be called The Post Office Tower. It's almost 200 metres tall and was once the tallest building in London.

This is difficult for me. This is where I was, when Jenny disappeared. This is where I had my last sight of her. The room where I made my last call to her. The call which broke up. The call which I could not return. The last time I heard her voice.

I can feel myself starting to break up. It's always the same way. I can cope with it intellectually but every so often events or places conspire to bring the ghost back. It's a ghost that I have to exorcise, from here at least, if I'm going to get on with my job. The question is - do I want to? If I can come here, here of all places and not feel "that sweet sorrow of parting", does that mean she really has left me? Left me physically. Left my imagination. Left even my memory. Left never to come back?

"... So we have commissioned some further detailed studies of the hydrology of the upper Mekong area to have a more accurate understanding of the way water drains into and flows through the river system..."

I remember a friend I had at University. He married quite young but his wife got leukaemia. She went through all the treatment; lost her hair, everything like that. Sometimes she looked quite well. Other times she was very weak; the treatment does that. In the end, after everything they had been through together, she died. He said it took a year to get over it; to get on top of bereavement; to be able to move on, with a clear conscience. That's what he said, but I know it took him much longer than that.

The loss of Jenny has been like bereavement. She vanished a year and a half ago.

" ... There seem to have been climate changes in recent years probably due to global warming. There is at least one NGO carrying out development work near Phnom Penh who has reported that the climate has become significantly drier and it has made for practical difficulties for fish farming projects which they had hoped would provide a source of dietary protein for the subsistence farmers. However, this serves to underline the importance of this suite of projects..."

It's the anniversaries and birthdays and Christmas which have been the worst. No card for me to buy her and no card from her to me. No present for my birthday. No surprise for me to plan, for her birthday. Friends have been supportive, having me over at Christmas and so on but then it's not easy for them, either. We were a couple and now there is just one of us – it must feel to them, as if a friend has turned up with an arm or a leg missing.

I mean, what are they supposed to say? Should they pretend all is well: "you look just great" when it's quite obvious that their friend has this dreadful injury or do you say "gee you look terrible" and perhaps make it more difficult for the friend to come to terms with the way they have to live now?

" ... And this data serves to underline the importance of the irrigation projects and the care needed to properly integrate these with any hydro-electric generation opportunities. The example to bear in mind is the very modest power generation actually produced by the Moscow-Volga canal scheme compared to the very significant and deleterious environmental impact it made, for example the very low population density of fish in the north Volga river system..."

I'm staring at the man speaking but my thoughts are miles away. I wonder if I should start dating again? When will I feel I'm not betraying Jenny? When will people be easy about going out with me? If they knew about Jenny and me? And what about me? Would I subconsciously start looking for some who was like Jenny or should I deliberately look for someone who was as different as possible or should I just carry on as I am, and let life take its course?

I keep thinking of Gwenda. She is funny, emotionally strong, lively, beautiful – but that's just like Jenny. Although, actually, who wouldn't want a woman like that? On the other hand, Gwenda is, well, earthier, I suppose, than Jenny was. She has a broader sense of humour - Jenny's was more mischievous, Gwenda's tends to the more basic. If it wasn't for her warm broad smile, you might think her vulgar. And she is - how to express it? - bigger. Not just physically bigger – although she is probably 25 pounds heavier than Jenny was at the same height, but everything about Gwenda is big; her hair, her movements and her laugh. And of, course, Gwenda is black and proud of her West Indian background where Jenny was less interested in her origins, although she did feel that being part Scandinavian was a little exotic, I suppose. Was? Surely she still is? I mean, surely she still is alive - or is she?

What would the Palmers think if I started to date other girls? Gwenda, for example? Would they be hurt? Would they think I had washed my hands of their daughter, of Jenny? Or would they understand that life has to go on, that I have to move on?

" ... We are now able to use remote sensing from earth resource satellites to observe the day to day weather over the Mekong area and observe the effects of water levels in the river and the effects on the adjacent country in real time..."

And tomorrow I have put myself down for this bloody course! Well, it was Ylena who told me I ought to go on it. "Shibari," she said, "it's precision, an art, exact. It should appeal to an engineer." And Ylena is a Domme and people are supposed to follow the instructions that Dommes give them.

The only problem is, I am beginning to question what it is I am trying to do. If I am going move on, should I still go on looking for Jenny, in all the things which she enjoyed, trying to "get myself ready" for Jenny coming back? I am beginning to think that it may be a time for realism. To be realistic about Jenny. To accept that she is never coming back.

ON COURSE

I don't know South London very well, but fortunately the course is only about twenty minutes' walk from one of the Underground stations on the Northern Line. It's a warm, sunny, Saturday morning so it's a pleasant walk through late Victorian suburbs with largish houses peeping out from behind over-grown gardens. It's 10.15am when I arrive.

I ring the door bell. I am greeted by Rick, a lively, relaxed man in his late forties. He welcomes me into his flat and inside the large front room, I find several other people, mostly couples and two other blokes like me – but it seems that other people are expected. Presently everyone who is coming has arrived and the business of the day begins.

Rick sits down in the one armchair that isn't occupied. "The first thing you have got to know," he says, "leaning forward towards the group of us, in a way that's designed to encourage interaction, "is that Shibari is supposed to be fun. Yes, there are technicalities to master but the initial moves are all very simple and success comes from doing simple things, well. The next thing to remember, s that Shibari is also supposed to be sensuous. Your partner should try to turn you on when they tie you and you should return the compliment."