"There shouldn't be any," Tyson said. He walked up to the railing separating us from the crowd and then leaned over to grab Cleo's hand. "Wonderful jo..., my love. I still say you should be on stage." I like being here," Cleo replied. "I get to beat on something."I giggled as Tyson stood there shaking his head. Most of the crowd had headed out, but a couple made their way to the orchestra pit. One I recognized as Captain Dawn Travis, but the other two were wearing marine uniforms. Mickey tensed. He found it in an auction house in London where he was working. I used to go for long tramps over Hampstead Heath with my friend, followed by afternoon tea. I was very bad in those days at picking it up when someone admired me, rather like the heroine of my story. Only much later did I realise that my friend was one of many admirers. (RIP, dear Phil, I still often think of you.) The poems: are by George Gordon, Lord Byron, Alfred Tennyson (not ennobled at the time of this story), and Robert. More

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