I haven't heard anything from Leonard since last Tuesday. No phone calls. No postcards. Nothing. And I have a horrible feeling that I know why.
During the bus journey home from Elmfield House last Tuesday afternoon I began searching through my bag to find my notebook and make notes about our conversation as usual, but I could not find it. When I arrived home I tipped my bag upside down on the kitchen table and I searched the flat from top to bottom but my notebook was nowhere to be found. I haven’t mentioned this before because I have been hoping that it will reappear at some point, but I still haven't found it and I have a dreadful feeling that I have left it at Elmfield House. If Leonard reads it then he will know that I have been keeping a record about everything that he has taught me. And the notebook not only contains my reports of our conversations but folded inside are copies of my research proposal and postgraduate acceptance letter too. He must not see them.
I tried calling Leonard numerous times last week but he did not answer the phone, which is very worrying indeed. On an equally disturbing note, Luke’s email that arrived this morning included a poem by his favourite poet John Donne entitled ‘Sweetest love, I do not go’ and although the poem is on the heartening theme of love, several lines within the poem are a cause for concern and they do little to relieve my current state of paranoia.