Secretive Writer Unmasked

"After the trauma I have experienced, I can honestly say I don't quite know what to think and that Wally has looked after me during the past 24 hours with the skill of a professional therapist, I must say. I'm a grateful refugee and he had treated me honourable at all times. I also wish my ex-boyfriend who turned on me brutally is fatally hit by lightning."

"Christ," said Angus, appearing most impressed.

Wally said, "Please allow me to get you a light lunch Angus and Constable Whittaker who looks so gorgeous in that uniform.

"Yeah, we accept the offer of lunch and yeah and even my wife believes that Helen appears too grand to be assigned to this tiny and isolated outpost.

"Wendy, could you assist..."

"You relax Wally and I scratch up a worthwhile presentation and your kitchen appears well stocked up. I'll first fetch another bottle of red."

Half an hour later they were finishing lunch with coffee.

"That frittata was truly magnificent," said plump Angus and looking at the scraped clean serving dish forlornly. "Most of the contents of that dish were supplied by my wife as a result of her enterprise."

"Yes, Wally has indicated to me that your Milly is a great rural land produce business entrepreneur."

"Wow, that's a hifalutin earful for a country boy," the Sergeant laughed. "You are quite a vibrant young woman, Wendy. Milly would like to meet you while you are staying in this district. She was born in the house where we live on the original 75-acre farm that become uneconomic for dairying and sixty-five acres was sold and incorporated into a neighbouring farm."

"Gosh, this district has oodles of interesting people stories like that," Helen said. "Even you, Mr Heggie. "I've heard that you write fiction and your books are published in America."

"Yeah, I've written a few but don't talk about it much to prevent myself from boring people," Wally said nonchalantly.

"How do I get the opportunity to read one?"

"The lending library at Crossroads has several of them."

"Several, you've had several books published?"

"I'm afraid so."

"The how many does of your titles does the library have?"

"It's been sometime since I checked buy the records showed 18 of them."

"Jesus!"

The men laughed awkwardly and Wendy changed the conversation by asking Wendy where was her home town or district.

Then Angus received a call-out message and the visitors were off.

"Angus was right," Wally said. "That was an ace frittata. The frittatas I produce more or less look and taste mushy."

"Well, Wally, there are some essentials to follow. The first is to use a heavy cast-iron skillet if on hand. Get it hot first. Ratios are important for over-all firmness and cook meat and vegetables first. Sauté mushrooms and even spinach to cook out the water. Lastly, placed the cooked frittata with toppings to finish off in a hot oven."

"Ah, I can see the logic in those steps. Thanks, Wendy."

"Wally, feel free to say 'thanks darling' providing I deserve that level of accolade."

He gave her a cheesy grin that told her nothing.

* * *

Two mornings later during their morning run, Wendy said, "Wally, could we go to the library tomorrow. I'd like to borrow some books, on your card is that's permissible."

He said, "Yes, okay."

Later in the morning, Wally called the managing librarian and said he'd be in next morning and would sign any of his books that the library had sold and were awaiting his personalised signature.

"We have seven, I believe. Sales of your books are so slack I don't think we should hang on stocking them for sale. We only stock copies for marketing as your are the only published author resident in this district."

"Do whatever you wish, Clarissa. It will be fine by me?"

"Wally, stop calling my Clarissa. I've requested that umpteen times because four of my grandchildren frequent the library and I don't wish them to come to the conclusion that there must be something going on between you and me and confusing them as well as their grandfather is alive and kicking and lives with me."

"I'll do my best to pick up on your request, Clarissa although that's ignoring the fact that it's you who sees that possible bedroom association rather than your modern grandchildren who assume that grandma goes to bed with whoever she pleases."

"For goodness sake, the ease with which you can twist your mind, Wally. You must be an author." she cackled.

Clarissa asked would it be acceptable to him if she sent out an email to all regular library users that he would be in tomorrow for book signings -- his books?"

"Please yourself. Oh, I could make this more relevant. Two mornings ago, I received two cartons of my latest publication. I'll give you 13 copies."

"Thirteen, that's an odd number."

"Be grateful, it's half of the total number I received."

"What is the title?"

"Disappearance of the Heiress."

"O-m-i-g-o-d."

"What?"

"I watched a New York TV Book Show on TV overnight and the presenter said it was one of the faster -selling new works of fiction released recently. A reviewer of your book then called in and said the book was laced with wit and charm, the pace of writing was almost breathtaking and although humour spilled from almost every page, the authenticity of the story remained intact, indeed it was enhanced. Clive Kimberley said he'd bet his fat ass that sales in the first seven days of the recluse Terrence Walters' latest book could exceed 500,00."

"Christ! I thought it was good and even my commissioning editor said it was a winner, but neither of us would have thought it was that good. Williams must have been on a mind-bending pill from the tropics."

Wally and Wendy arrived back from their run next morning and after they'd showered and changed, Wendy dressing back into the black cocktail dress, Wendy started breakfast and Wally checked for phone messages before starting on the morning newspaper and then received a call.

"Wally, it's Mrs Roach."

"Sorry, I don't know a Mrs Roach."

"It's Clarissa you fool. We practically have a traffic jam here at Crossroads and it's only 8.15. Vehicles are pouring into our parking lot."

He asked the librarian to count how many non-staff vehicles were parked in the lot.

She came back and said twelve.

"I guess that puts the near traffic jam and vehicles pouring into the parking lot in perspective."

"It's two or more times usual traffic density," she said defensively.

"Yeah, it's similar to woman who say the supermarket was packed when there were perhaps only three more shoppers than usual."

"You men all think the same. Women call it fucking nonsense. I'm calling you to warn you to come dressed neat and tidy, rather like the hermit you pretend to be. Your fame associated with your latest book being published in both New York and London will fill our library wall to wall today."

"Thanks for the warning, Clarissa. Goodness knows what you put in that email."

Filling the library wall to wall indeed, he chuckled. Clarissa was a notable character based mainly on the way she expressed herself was well as being thin with frameless spectacles presenting her authentically of the literary image of a librarian.

Wally briefed Wendy about everything that had passed between him and the managing librarian over the past two days.

"Disregard her request to dress up, Wally. It's unwise for a celebrity, even a minor one, to change his or her image midstream. Just ensure your caste off-looking clothes aren't smelly and dirty."

"This Clarissa is probably right in believing her grandchildren could come to believe that you are shagging her in being so familiar by calling her Clarissa when almost everyone else probably addresses her as Mrs Roach, Chief Librarian."

"Of fuck, not you too Wendy, taking the side of an ultra-conservative country female on that issue. Clarissa has been only out into the real world to study for her degree in English literature with a major in information management, at an urban university."

"Then, if you believe that assertion, prove that Mrs Roach and I are wrong in our belief."

"How the fuck can I do that?" he blustered.

"Exactly," she smiled sweetly.

He thought sourly, women with brains and senses linked closed to reality were a significant menace to logic and efficiency and the ways guys thought. He supposed he was wrong in that assertion as well but then chuckled thinking, prove it.

"What's making you chuckle.?"

"Thinking actually how unlike you and Mrs Roach are."

"I don't see the significance of that comment."

"Perhaps you may if say that I'm not shagging either of you."

He fancied the peculiar way she was looking at him mirrored her thought that she was listening to a moron.

When Wendy went to bed the previous night. she found on her pillow a copy of the latest Terrence Walters novel and the dust cover revealed the author's photo had been updated and the novel had just been printed.

She read the first half before putting the book aside and turning off the bedside lamp.

"Omigod, I read the first half of your new book last night and confirm it is brilliant, and yet earlier I had sometimes the author I in everyday life was a stupid idiot. It is far better and the other few of your titles that I've read."

"Possibly, in emerging from your bereavement before my arrival, your have curved your literary skill into a higher level. On what I've read so far, I'd say that book deserves consideration for a place on any fictional collection of English literature. It has an international feel about it and so could sell well if translated into some other languages."

"Wowee, Hermit Heggie!"

"Thanks for your comments, Wendy. I think we should leave for crossroads about 8.40 to be there when the library opened because I need to deliver some books."

Wendy said, "Congratulations."

"What for, not cutting my face shaving this morning."

"I've got twelve chapters to go of your new book on the heiress and obviously you are the laconic private detective who finds her and suggests that she not give herself up to the authorities searching for her until she had sorted out most if not all of the problems that troubled her so.

"How did you guess the detective embodied my character?"

"Because each time the heiress demanded that you have sex with her, she refused. That appeared ever so familiar to me and there was also a passage directly relating to the way you talk to me when in the book you stated he'd heard that she flossed her teeth morning and night and flossed between her toes twice a week."

"Ah, I get what you are on about," he chuckled. "The manuscript had gone to my publisher three months before I met you. I said I suppose you flossed your teeth morning an night and astonished you by asking did you floss between your toes as well."

"I thought that was an idiotic question, but surprisingly, the way in which it comes up the written dialogue seems completely natural, albeit surprisingly so. I must say I have no knowledge of any person, alive or in fiction, who flosses between their toes."

"That's understandable just as you will understand that I try to inject originality in my writing."

"Do you sink a length into the heiress by the end of the book?"

"That is not for me to disclose to any reader as it is for them to discover. Incidentally, the expression you just used probably makes you my foulest reader ever."

"Are you sure about that?"

"No, how could I be?"

"Omigod," she sighed "Whenever talking to you, I'm left with the most unfinished thoughts with anyone else that I can recall chatting to, ever."

"Well, I guess that establishes a degree of originality between us."

Wendy sighed hugely.

They left for Crossroads to be at the library at 9.00 when it opened to the public.

Wally said crossly, "Fart me silly, there's been some sort of disaster in the village. Traffic is piled up everywhere."

"It is commonly known as a traffic jam. And where the fuck did you get that ridiculous comment of 'fart me silly'?"

"Seriously, Wendy, which one would have seized your attention with the greatest effect, 'Wendy' or 'Fart me Silly'?"

She sighed heavily.

"I'm going to the cop shop for assistance to get to the library on time," he said, turning his old American Ford F-100 pickup left instead of right into Main Street.

Sergeant Angus McLean shook his head and said, "Sorry, I can't help you mate. Vehicles began piling into the township from 7.30 and its been non-stopped every since and in fact the traffic has stopped. I understand people from miles away have been coming for a big event at the library." he grinned, holding out an email.

"Clarissa has long awaited a choice opportunity to really promote the library to the local populace."

Wendy, pressed up firmly against Wally holding the other side of the print-out page of yesterday's email from the library and read it out, voice shaking in increasing emotion:

The most humungous event in the 180-year history of Crossroad Village, or if you prefer, Township, occurs between 9 and 11 am tomorrow, expected to easily eclipse the jubilant turnouts celebrating the end to World War 1 and World War 2 and even on the occasion of our beloved head of our Police district, Sergeant Angus McLean's marriage to the hugely popular Milly Ploughman when they drove though the township from the Catholic Church to the showgrounds for their Wedding Breakfast in a decorated buggy drawn by two donkeys. Almost everyone in the district was invited to feast.

Admittedly, the population of the district has grown significantly since those Gold Standard events.

Our local resident, Wally Heggie, a virtual recluse, who writes novels published in America under the non de plume of Terrence Walters that are hugely popular internationally, and we stock 18 of them in our library. Wally's are the only new books that we sell from the library as our support to acknowledge at having a famous author in our community.

The exiting news is that Mr Heggie/Walters will be in our library between 9 and 11 tomorrow (Thursday) to sign his books requested by a few of the purchasers and thereby perhaps unwittingly giving ever resident the opportunity to see this famous man who chooses to live in our community incognito.

And that's not all. And this will be of great interest especially to ladies, including myself.

Mr Heggie/Walters is expected to be accompanied by the young lady who several days ago ran away from an abusive lover and he came across her in an exhaustive state desperately in in need of food, shelter and protection from a possible pursuer.

True to his creation of fictitious heroes, our beloved author took the damsel in distress in, insisting they sleep in separate bedrooms of course because of his chivalry and their significant age difference I assume. Our hero got Sergeant McLean to visit to unofficially register her in case she was registered as a missing person and for Sergeant McLean to satisfy himself and the refugee fully appreciated her present sanctuary rather than be transferred to somewhere else more appropriate such as a nunnery.

And so, if you decided to cast your eye on our famous incognito author and as I understand it, his very attractive and fit lady no longer in distress, please visit us between 9 and 11 tomorrow. You may have a long wait to gain entry should my expectations of a huge turnout be correct.

Wendy concluded that the notice was signed Clarissa S. Roach, Head Librarian.

Wally looked out the window and saw the traffic remained stalled.

Angus said, "Mate, are you heading back home to hide, or do you still wish to bite the bullet and appear at the library?"

"I'll go, even if I have to walk."

"No mate, I'll take you with the siren blaring to stir up everyone. Grab your things from you old heap and jump into Old Nancy at the side driveway."

They boarded the Police museum-piece kept for street parades, a 2nd generation 1981 ex-Police Suzuki Jimny painted, in eye-catching purple and yellow diagonal stripes.

With the siren blaring, Sergeant McLean drove down the sidewalks in the diminutive 4WD vehicle to get his VIPs to the library on time.

They made it with seconds to spare, sighting Clarissa behind the glass entrance door unlocking it.

The sergeant used his portable loudhailer to announce, "Everyone, please open a pathway to allow our distinguished persons, author Wally Heggie and runaway survivor Miss Wendy Conway, to enter the library first.

A gap within the human mass between the blocked Jimny and the library entrance magically opened and dour Wally, carrying a carton of 13 of his Heiress novels, jogged to the library followed on his heels by the wildly excited Wendy.

"Wendy, Wendy" called a woman near-hysterically, and the call swelled amongst mostly females on foot, and installed vehicles up to a quarter of a mile away, in a gigantic roar that sent dogs barking, horses neighing and bulls roaring up to three miles in the distance.

The former village, these days upgraded to township status, of Crossroads had not experienced such a crowd eruption since 1961, when the district's senior men's hockey team defeated an invited A-grade men's team from the city 3-l in 'an unforgettable match', long faded from memory

As the VIGs (very important guests) entered the library, Clarissa practically swooning cooed, "Omigod, the missing fairy princess in reality." Wendy hugged her and thanked Clarissa for her part in bringing Wally 'out of the closet'.

Clarissa recovered her composure and shouted, "Angus McLean, go and turn off that fucking siren instantly. You should know libraries function as a temple of wisdom and a place of tranquillity?"

"Nope I didn't," said Angus, running off to do what he was told, the doorkeeper letting him exit.

"Hi Wally," Clarissa said kissing him. "Your fairy princess has phrased it beautifully: this great occasion is to pull you out of the closet. Place those books in my office and then stand back and Misty will open the doors again once Wally is back inside and we'll have people wall to wall in 10-minute duration batches, those inside leaving via the emergency exit rear door before the new lot surge in. I have four volunteers outside the exit taking orders for your books. Our sales of them are likely to boom as many people hysterically throw their money at your publisher and you."

"Thanks, Clarissa, so wonderfully graphically put by obviously a wannabe trader."

"Me a trader? Be sensible, Wally. I'm no more a trader than I am a woman of the night or a puller of teeth."

"Ah, prostitution is almost forgotten optional career choice."

Clarissa's face turned the colour of sunset and Wendy looked astonished.

At noon, Wally decided it was time to go home.

He'd been photographed approximately 500times with fans singly and in groups, orders for his book had been considerable, some women hysterically ordered everything he'd ever written which were expected to be either cancelled or modified in coming hours and he'd lost count of how many invitations to home hospitality he'd received.

For her part, Wendy had had her breasts rubbed by two males and eight females in the crush and had received obscene or matrimonial proposals from five women and two males.

"Oh darling, I apologize for this evidence of filth that exists within my library community," Clarissa said, sounding upset.

"It's okay, Clarissa, truly. If you think about it, those numbers are tiny percentages considering the number of people who have passed through here this morning,

Wendy and Wally slipped out of the fire escape where Angus was waiting for them in Wally's pick up. He stayed behind, waving them off like an old friend. He'd invited the couple to come to the old farmhouse for Sunday lunch with Milly and him.