by Linda Leary

Created on: July 02, 2008

WOLF MOON. I read somehwere that there was a woman, a lady, in the full moon's pallid face that we should look out for, not the jovial male image depicted in fairy tales and childrens' books. At first I saw only the ivory disc and shades of lunar geographical features but then, when I told myself it was a load of twaddle and started to look away, I saw her. Her face was like the one on those old cameo brooches. She was facing left, her hair fastened up in a loose bun and as the image imprinted itself on my mind I felt a deep, thrilling joy that almost overpowered me. In those moments I understood how peoples all over the world could have attributed her with power, deity. However they called her, Diana, Artemis, Astarte or any of her many names, I understood their worship and all that was ascribed to her, romance, enchantment, lunacy.

In the taxi now, being driven to meet a man whose face I had only seen as a thumbnail photo on an internet web site, I wondered if this full moon would bless me. When it parked in front of the Blue Anchor restaurant, I was expectant, excited, ready to try again.

He was charming, amusing and confident of his own attractiveness and I was bowled over, hungry for him. I couldn't bring myself to eat much, I was so nervous about what was to follow. It was close to midnight when we left and I went to climb into the passenger side of his SUV.
.................................................... .... They found me unconscious, naked and bleeding in the car park of the Blue Anchor restaurant. Two of the waitresses who were standing outside the back door of the kitchen for a smoke had seen my legs sticking out behind the waste bins. If it hadn't been for the unusually bright full moon and cloudless sky I probably wouldn't have been found until the next morning. An ambulance was called and when I when I woke up I was in St. Stephen's hospital. A nurse came in and took my name and details but when she asked me what had happened to me I could remember nothing except that I had been in a restaurant having a meal with a man I had first encountered on the internet. I could recall nothing more but the nurse told me that it could be a result of concussion and that my memory would probably return gradually over the next couple of days.

When she left I dozed for a while and when I next opened my eyes there was a woman sitting at my bedside and a man leaning against the rain-streaked window. She introduced herself as DC Pole, and he as DS Hargreaves, both

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