Wilmington

Oh, definitely to The Others

Once upon a time and who knows why, Mr McG took to hiding a seriously boring book about Wilmington, Delaware, in our daughter and husband’s house in the UK.

Nothing was said at the time, but a few months later it silently reappeared chez nous in Switzerland.

 It became a game. Whoever found it would quietly smuggle it back into the opposing party’s territory.

Once, after spending time with the daughter in the UK, I walked out with it in my own suitcase, only discovering it at airport security...

The hiding places became increasingly elaborate. Third parties were roped in: SODIL came to stay and, weeks later, I found Wilmington wrapped up in my yoga mat.

Sometimes you could pretend you’d hidden it and imply where...and the other person would empty out all their kitchen cupboards before realising they’d been had.

 At one point, two books were circulating: “Wilmington” and “Cigar manufacturing in South Wales”...

Occasionally so much time went by that we forgot who had it and any trip to one or the other’s house was regarded with deep suspicion.

And then it would mysteriously reappear.

One year, we all met in Normandy for a long weekend. At the end of the few days, after waving goodbye to the UK contingent, Mr McG came indoors looking gleeful. He’d discovered Wilmington planted in his bag and had surreptitiously returned it to their car just before they left. They drove all the way back to the UK giggling, convinced they’d fooled him... only to discover it in their car boot upon unloading.

The final time, Mr McG covered it with another book’s dust jacket. After many months and many clues, it was found, but not before the son-in-law had turned their house inside out.

We’ve since agreed a truce. At least I think we have...