Blue Wisteria Conclusion
By hilary west
Soon, all too soon, the holiday was coming to an end, but it had been so special for both of them. That night in the hotel garden, after embracing Melissa and kissing those full, pink lips, Ken plucked the trailing blue wisteria and placed it in Melissa's hair, not knowing he was placing it in her wig. It was such an expensive one made from real hair and it was impossible to distinguish it from the real thing.
Ken loved with a passion, nothing could stop that. Melissa loved passionately too, albeit she was celibate, but that's how they liked it. There was a purity and innocence in their love that could not be denied.
When they arrived back in the UK both were sad the holiday was over but their love would survive; there was no doubt about that. Daily phone calls and meetings followed, but Dr. Woodstock was disappointed not to see Melissa in the car park or on the tarmac. But maybe, he thought, it is good she is not coming to the hospital, she must be well; whatever was wrong with her must be cured.
The truth was Melissa had reverted to evening appointments and was going more often not less. The doctor had no idea. It wasn't until a morning break in the doctor's common room put paid to all that.
"I've got to tell somebody today the diagnosis is terminal," said Dr. Weston.
"Oh, that's a shame," said Dr. Woodstock, "a man or a woman?"
"A woman actually, she's only thirty, very pretty actually. I think I saw you talking to her in the waiting room one day."
"Oh no," said Dr. Woodstock, "not Melissa Hutton?"
"Yes, that's her, a terrible tragedy by all accounts."
Dr. Woodstock just folded up and had to be taken to a seat.
"Life is so unfair, I'm devastated. She's a wonderful woman."
"Yes, life's a bitch."
Dr. Woodstock remembered the holiday in Venice, Melissa's swansong, but he knew then he would be with her to the end.