When I drove with Jenny to the Gardening Club on Thursday, I tried to dismiss her good-natured banter as nonsense. What had previously delighted me in sharing my secret with her, now embarrassed me and I hastened to dispel her romantic notions. She looked very puzzled at my changed attitude, but didn't comment.

I sat there wondering if I could use them to make a love potion to lure him away from the house at 18 Edmonton Road and its occupant, who now, in my mind, was a fascinating woman of unparalled beauty.

Ron's manner towards me at the Club was the same as usual, but he was always charming to everyone. "Maybe I've just imagined the whole thing" were the words reverberating in my mind as I listened to his talk on growing herbs. "Thousands of years ago" he began, "people collected herbs and used them in preparing foods, medicines, perfumes and cosmetics" he explained. "They also burnt them in temples and mixed them with sacred oil for anointing kings and priests."

While he continued his lecture to the totally absorbed audience, I sat there wondering if I could use them to make a love potion to lure him away from the house at 18 Edmonton Road and its occupant, who now, in my mind, was a fascinating woman of unparalled beauty. "Silly old fool, you're going soft in the head" I kept telling myself, but it didn't really help. The other Club members were learning all about growing camomile, lavender, rosemary, parsley, mint and thyme, while my destructive thoughts took over and I barely heard a word he said.

For the first time I was glad when the meeting ended, and I clung to Jenny's arm when we left as though it were a life preserver.

That evening, Ron called me. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You seemed different today." I was finding it hard to speak. "I don't know what you mean. Different in what way?"

"Distracted somehow. You didn't really participate at all."

"Well, I had a few things on my mind. We all have private lives away from the Gardening Club" I said, trying to keep the sharp edge out of my voice.

He still sounded puzzled. "I hope it's nothing serious. Listen, there's an orchid show at the Botanical Gardens. I was thinking of going tomorrow. Would you like to see it?"

"Yes I would. Thank you." He arranged to pick me up next morning at 10, and some of the unreasonable hurt I'd been nurturing seemed to melt away.

But whereas yesterday I'd been plunged in gloom andconvinced Ron was seeing another woman, today I was optimistic, reassured by the fact that he had invited me and not whoever lived inthat mysterious house.

It was a beautiful sunny day and I felt excited as I got ready. I couldn't explain these mood swings I thought I'd got over those with menopause. But whereas yesterday I'd been plunged in gloom and convinced Ron was seeing another woman, today I was optimistic, reassured by the fact that he had invited me and not whoever lived in that mysterious house. I dressed as carefully as a teenager on her first date and felt I looked good. I used the make-up techniques and colors I'd been shown at the Beauty Institute, and the reflection in my mirror was upbeat and smiling.

Ron complimented me and kissed me on the cheek, and suddenly I felt as bright as the day. As we drove to the Botanical Gardens we happened to pass Edmonton Road, so I summoned up my courage and forcing my voice to sound natural, I said casually: "Oh, I drove past here the other evening. Actually I think I saw your car parked further down."

"You probably did" he replied, without missing a beat. "Valerie, my ex-wife, lives here at number 18. We are quite friendly, although she's remarried, and we often get together to discuss our kids. Meg, the youngest, is still single and has decided on a career change. She wants to go back to university, to study Social Work. I always promised to support them until they were on their feet. John and Fern, the older two, are both married and established in their careers, but Meg has always been ambivalent in her ambitions and her relationships."

He went on talking as we drove, but I kept repeating in my head: "Valerie . ex-wife ..remarried." All the jealousy I'd been nurturing dissipated in those few minutes. We spent a delightful

time in the greenhouse, admiring the magnificent orchids species from South America, New Guinea and Borneo, each more beautiful than the one before. I loved the story the narrator told about the Indian goddess who came to visit. Instead of welcoming her, the people chased her into the mountain jungle. Pieces of her clothes golden brocade and multi-colored silks, caught and tore, and the golden dust of the fine fabrics changed into seeds of the gorgeous flowers the Javanese call "petola" and we call "orchid."

The flowers, the sunshine, the company of the man I was starting to love, all made me think of the line: "God's in His heaven, all's right with the world."