Chapter 10

There was a strange smell and I felt really odd. I tried to lift my hand to my head. The headache was unbearable, but for some reason my hand, my arm, wouldn’t move.

“This one’s awake,” came a rough voice.

I opened my eyes and realised I was lying, bound and blindfolded, on a hard surface. I wasn’t gagged though. “What’s going on,” I muttered. My throat felt on fire. I was ignored.

I listened. There must have been a least two people, just from the movements I could hear, but no one was speaking.

“Hello?” I called again.

I heard a muffled grunt coming from close beside me and turned my head in that direction. “Hello?”

There was a faint noise, then a whisper. “Toby?” It was Sandra.

“Sandra? You okay?” I whispered back, realising almost as soon as I’d asked the question that it was a silly question.

“No,” she whispered back, tears in her voice. “I think I’ve been,” she paused, “I might,” once more she stopped and I could hear her starting to sob.

I tried to move towards her, but found I was not only tied, I was tied to something as well.

There were footsteps coming towards us and I tried to listen. At least two, no three people.

My foot was kicked. Not hard, more to gain my attention. “What’s your name?” It was a different voice from the first one.

“Toby,” I whispered. “Who are you?”

“Not Steven?”

“No.”

“Or Adam?”

“No. I told you. My name’s Toby.”

There was a pause then the first voice spoke. “She called him Toby.”

“Hm,” said the second voice. “And you girl. You are Sandra?”

“Yes,” she whispered,

“Why were you together at the bus stop?”

“I was going home,” Sandra whispered.

“She’d been to see me,” I said. “It was cold and dark so I walked her to the bus stop. Her parents will be getting very worried.”

“Her parents?” came a third voice, scoffing. “Her parents are away with the fairies.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Her parents, like yours, have been kidnapped by these so called aliens.”

“What?” cried Sandra. “When?”

“Don’t try and be clever girl,” came the second voice again. “We know about that so called collection. What we’re trying to work out...” He was interrupted by Sandra.

“But my parents haven’t been collected! They were at home this morning.”

There was a pause. “You’re parents weren’t in the same collection as this boys traitorous parents?”

“No,” we both said.

There was another brief pause, then the second voice spoke again, but not to us. “Well?” he demanded of someone.

“She’s still a virgin.” This was yet another voice. So there were at least four people in the room.

I gasped and Sandra started to sob again.

“Shut up girl,” came the second voice. The one I now assumed was the leader of the group. “You haven’t been hurt.” He obviously turned his head away again. “You sure?”

“I’m a doctor and a gynaecologist. I know what an intact hymen looks like. Hers is still intact.”

In my head I named the four voices as Leader, Doctor, Whiny and Coarse.

“This doesn’t make sense,” came the third voice, Whiny.

“Shut up,” came the second, Leader.

“But...”

“Go find out if her parents really are at home you knob ‘ead,” growled Coarse angrily.

“How?” asked Whiny.

“Use your head,” came Doctor’s voice tiredly. “We have her phone. It’s got her home numbers in it I would imagine. Use it to ring home. See who answers and see what they say.”

“But what do I say when they answer?”

“You don’t say anything. Just listen. Maybe make a funny sound that may or may not be her. Let them talk first.”

“Uh.”

Leader spoke again. “These are the two hanging around with the bosses kid?”

“I’m sure they are,” replied Coarse. “Seen ‘em a few times.”

“But neither have a card, and she’s still a virgin,” came back Doctor. “That doesn’t make sense. If they were planning to kidnap her and go off with the aliens,” the voices were slowly moving away now, and Leader and Doctor were talking in low voices so I lost what they were saying.

I was about to say something to Sandra when I realised we were not alone.

“Fuck,” came Whiny’s voice. “Your phone’s locked. What’s the password?”

“I have to touch my finger to the sensor, it reads my finger print.”

“Here. You’d better open it up then, hadn’t you.”

I heard movement, then a gasp followed almost immediately by a screech from Sandra. There was more movement, hurried this time, then what sounded like a hard slap and a cry of pain.

“Leave her alone,” said Coarse.

“I only wanted to see what a real virgin feels like,” muttered Whiny in an even more whiny voice than I’d heard so far. “I’ve never had one before.”

“And you’re not gonna have one now. Maybe this one’s for the boss, maybe not, but you touch her again and you’ll be talkin’ in a high voice for the rest of your very short and pain filled life.”

“What happened,” I whispered to Sandra.

“Shut up!” snapped Coarse, giving me a kick in the ribs. “No talking unless spoken to.”

I gasped in pain and shut up.

“Make sure it’s on speaker phone,” Coarse growled, presumably at Whiny. Then, “What are your parent’s names girl?”

“Brian and Monica,” Sandra said softly.

I heard a phone auto-dialling, then silence for a few moments, then a click and the sound of a ringing tone. The phone at the other end rang about four times then there was another click and a woman’s voice.

“Sandra? Where are you love? It’s very late and we were worried.”

“MUM?” Shouted Sandra.

“Sandra? Darling? Where are you?”

“I’m in,” there was a noise and Sandra’s voice went muffled.

“Sandra? Sandra? Where are you love? What’s happening?” I could hear worry, even terror in the woman’s voice.

“Mrs Walmsley?” asked Whiny in a very smarmy voice.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Who are you? Where’s my daughter?”

“You are Mrs Walmsley?” asked Whiny.

“Yes. Who are you,” demanded Mrs Walmsley.

“My name is of no consequence. Is your husband there?”

“Yes.” Now I could hear her calling to someone. She had obviously lowered the phone from her mouth. “Brian? Something’s happened to...” there was a click and the phone cut off.

“That’s enough,” said Coarse. His voice was puzzled.

“Your parents went boy, but yours didn’t girl. Is that right?”

“Yes,” we both whispered.

“Why didn’t yours?”

“My parents don’t know hers,” I said.

“So... “ he went silent. “Here, girl,” he suddenly said. Lift your hands, I’m going to put something in them.”

Sandra made a funny sound then a gasp. “Oh. Can I... ?” she trailed off.

“Yes.”

“But ... Oh.”

I wasn’t sure what I was hearing, but I heard Sandra moving. “Um,” she began.

“Here,” responded Coarse.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Once again I could hear strange noises, then there was the sound of a zip and it all began to fall into place. Sandra had been naked. At very least from the waist down. I’d just heard her doing up her jeans.

There was a small grunt of pain from, I assumed, Sandra. “Sorry, but you need to be fully tied up.”

“Oh,” whispered Sandra, once again tears showing in her voice.

It finally became clear to me that Sandra had been scared she’d been raped. Well, she had been sexually assaulted, but fortunately not raped. I suspect that from Sandra’s point of view, right at that moment the difference was only minor.

We lay there for what seemed like a very long time. I could hear Coarse and Whiny moving about occasionally, but nothing was said. Each time I tried to whisper something to Sandra I got a kick in the ribs. Each time it was harder than the previous time. After the third kick I didn’t make a fourth attempt.

Finally, after what felt like hours, we heard footsteps approaching again. “Well?” demanded Leader.

Whiny spoke. “A woman answered. Seemed to be her mother. She called for her husband; and the girl said it was the right name for her father.”

“Well of course she would,” replied Leader.

“No,” said Whiny. “I mean we asked her their names first. Brian and something. Then we rang them and the woman called for Brian.”

“Uh.”

“So why didn’t your parents go with his?”

“They didn’t know them,” Sandra replied.

“Your parents didn’t know his?”

“No.”

“Why were you left behind?” It took me a moment to realise I was the one being addressed.

“I didn’t want to go,” I said.

“Why?”

“Well, I just didn’t.”

“I need a better reason than that. Do you even have a card?”

“None of us do,” interrupted Sandra.

“Shut up,” snapped Leader. “One more sound out of you and you’ll regret it.”

“Well boy?”

I followed Sandra’s lead. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Just never have. Never got the chance.”

“Did you ever want one?”

“Never really thought about it.”

“Liar. You must have thought about it when your parents left.”

“Not really. I didn’t want to go then.”

“So you want to go some other time?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Maybe.”

“So which slave girls would you take?”

“What?”

“You do know,” he said heavily, “that the girls go as sex slaves. They’re not real people.”

“Well, some go as sponsors.”

“How do you know?”

“Because there was one in the group that went when my parents went.”

There was a brief pause. “So you’re telling me, you’ve actually seen a woman go as a sponsor?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. I knew it was supposed to be true, but I’ve never heard of it actually happening.”

I was about to say something when I realised he wasn’t talking to me.

“I’ve heard of it,” said Doctor. “Or at least, I knew that’s what they say.”

“So who was the woman? Did she take a male slave?”

“She took a bloke with her, yes.”

“Who? What was her name?”

I paused, pretending to try and remember. I did remember Pauline Lipp, she had some nice knickers. “I can’t remember,” I said after a pause. “I only knew a few of the people there, and not very well.”

“Why not?”

“They were mostly friends of Mum or Dad.”

“Hm. So. Who would you take? If you went.”

“I’d want to go with Sandra.”

“You’d want to take this tart here?”

“Hey, she’s not a tart!”

“But you’d still want her as your slave?”

“No. I’d be just as happy as her concubine.”

“You’re in love with her,” came Whiny’s voice in a sneering tone.

I didn’t answer. It was true, but so what.

There was a pause and then I heard noises outside the room.

“What’s that?” Asked Coarse.

“This building’s supposed to be empty,” muttered Doctor. At least, I think it was him.

“You two, go investigate,” ordered Leader. Two sets of footsteps left. Then, “Have you got a weapon on you?”

“Only my knife,” replied Coarse.

“Guard these two.”

At that moment there was a shout from elsewhere in the building, and a cry of alarm.

“What the fuck?” muttered Leader. I could hear softly running feet; I guessed it was Leader. He was back moments later. “Shit, there’s dozens of ‘em.”

“Who?” asked Coarse.”

“The bleedin’ fuzz.”

“Are they looking for us?”

“Don’t see how, but we gotta get outta here.”

“What about the kids?”

“Gag ‘em and leave em.”

Sandra chose that moment to let out an ear-piercing scream.

I practically crapped myself because I wasn’t expecting it. The two men were equally startled. “Fuck,” yelled Coarse. “What’s...”

“Jeez,” cried Leader. “Shut her the fuck up.”

I heard rapid movement and decided I had to get in on the act too.

“HEEEEEEEEELLP!” I yelled. “WE’RE IN...” something covered my mouth and I realised Sandra’s scream had also been stopped. I felt something quickly stuffed into my mouth, then heard feet running. It took me a couple of minutes, but I managed to spit it out, and resumed my yelling.

Only moments later I heard another set of feet. More than one. Lot’s actually, and voices.

“Up here.”

“In here.”

“Behind there some where.”

Then another voice, more ‘official’ than the rest. “This is the police. Who is that?”

“I’m Toby Simpson,” I called. “Sandra Walmsley’s here too, but I think she’s been gagged. We’re blindfolded and tied up.”

“Anyone else there?”

“Not that I can hear.”

“All right, bear with us a sec.”

I heard another spitting sound next to me, where I think Sandra was, then she too called out. “I’m okay. I’ve spat my gag out.”

“Darling?” came a voice.

“MUM?”

Then I heard another voice, much closer. “They’re here.” Moments later I felt my blindfold being removed. I turned my head towards Sandra to see that she too was trussed up much as I was. It was a young policeman, didn’t look much more than eighteen or nineteen himself, who had found us first. The room, what I could see of it, was very dark, the only light was torches. Sandra and I were lying on wooden pallets and surrounded by chests and boxes of all sorts. The young constable carefully got out a knife and, well away from the knots, cut the cord tying my hands down and together, then did the same for Sandra. I reached over and took her hand just as three more people appeared. Two were policemen; the third was a woman.

“Darling,” she called and ran towards Sandra. One of the policemen caught her before she could reach us.

“Please ma’am. We need to process them to try and find any evidence. Don’t touch them just yet.”

After that it became a whirlwind. Sandra and I were told not to talk, and we were fairly quickly whisked off to ambulances and taken to hospital where a doctor diagnosed me with a case of mild concussion from a severe blow to the head. Because of that, I was formally admitted for the night. It was now after two o’clock in the morning, but before I could relax, I needed to know how Sandra was. I continually asked after Sandra, only to be told each time not to worry.

After the fourth or fifth repetition of this, I snapped back. “But just telling me not to worry is what’s making me worry!” The nurse looked at me reproachfully. “Sorry,” I muttered.

“Just calm down and I’ll make enquiries.”

“All right, thank you.”

“Now please relax Mr Simpson.”

She came back about an hour later. I was still awake, and worrying. “Miss Walmsley is absolutely fine,” I was told. “She’s on the paed’s ward.”

“But she’s not hurt?”

“No. Now please Mr Simpson, try and get some rest.”

It turned out I was on the Surgical Assessment Unit, SAU, because I’d had quite a serious bang on the head, and they needed to monitor me. It meant that every two hours I had my blood pressure taken and my eyes and vision checked. It was frustrating in one sense, but I couldn’t get to sleep anyway because the ward was permanently active, with admissions and discharges going on throughout the night.

About ten the following morning, just after I’d had a visit from the doctor and my blood pressure taken yet again, I was moved into a side room.

A few minutes later Sandra was wheeled in, in a hospital wheelchair. With her was a couple who she introduced as her parents. We weren’t allowed to talk for long as the police had told the hospital staff that we were not allowed to talk without someone else being there. Apparently Sandra had driven her parents mad with her concerns for me, but they hadn’t been able to find out even as much as I had found out.

They left after about ten minutes; Sandra had already been officially discharged. It’s odd. In an NHS hospital, all patients, until they’ve actually left the building, are required to be in wheelchairs if they are no longer on the ward. And often even if they are. I’m sure it must be some stupid Health and Safety rule. Either that or over litigious lawyers trying to screw every penny out of the NHS that they can. Just seeing Sandra had reduced my tensions and worries, and, knowing she at least was on her way home, I think I finally relaxed. I was told later that having seen me, Sandra too had finally calmed down.

Shortly after that a couple of plain-clothes policemen came in to see me. They asked me a few questions, then left. Not long after they had gone, a nurse came in. She was in a slightly different colour uniform, which I later found out meant that she was a Nursing Assistant rather than a nurse.

“Toby? You’re ready to be discharged, but after your head injuries you can’t be discharged on your own. We can’t seem to contact your parents, the numbers we have for them are coming back unknown. Do you know where they are? Or what their numbers are?”

“Oh. Er.” I had a frantic panic. “Um. My mum’s in Bradford, visiting friends.”

“Your father?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t seen him in months.”

“Do you mean to say you’re on your own at the moment?”

“For a couple of days, yes. I’ve got more than enough food and stuff in the house, and I know not to drink any alcohol, and,”

She interrupted me. “How old are you?”

“Almost eighteen,” I told her.

“Oh no. We’ve got you down as eighteen. You shouldn’t have been on this ward. You’re a child. Legally.” She sighed. “You’ll have to stay in the side ward until we can sort something out.”

She left and another woman came in almost immediately. “Can I have a number for your mother please?”

I picked up my phone. “Shall I ring her?”

“Please.”

I began to go through my phone. I know I had Mrs Clarke’s number in here, what I couldn’t remember was whether it was a mobile number or a landline. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when I saw the number started with 07. I quickly edited the entry so that it read ‘Mums mobile’ instead of Mrs Clarke, and then rang it.

Mrs Clarke answered a few moments later.

“Hello?” she answered cautiously.

“Hi Mum it’s Toby I’m in hospital there was an accident and the nurse needs to talk to you,” I quickly rushed out, hoping that she would catch on. I wasn’t going to tell her that I had been kidnapped, not over the phone anyway. I didn’t know if the nurse knew, but if she did I hoped she would realise what I had said.

“Er what?” came the confused response. “Toby?”

I quickly passed the phone to the nurse.

“Hello? Mrs Simpson?”

There was a short pause before I heard Mrs Clarke say slowly, “Who is this please?”

“Hello Mrs Simpson, my name is Sophie Hutchens. I’m the ward clerk for the SAU at the hospital. Your son was involved in a minor accident last night and ended up in hospital with a bang on the head. Unfortunately,” I tuned out at this point, wondering what Mrs Clarke was doing, and whether she had caught on to what I had done. The clerk left the room still talking on the phone, coming back a few minutes later with my phone.

It was half an hour before I heard what was happening. The Nursing Assistant came back in. “Right Toby. Unfortunately you’re going to have to stay with us for another night. Legally you are still a child, but the paeds ward only has one bed free. In any case, putting you there with children as young as four and five is just silly, so I’m afraid you’ll have to stay in this room until your mother can collect you.”

I nodded. “I’ve got no wash stuff or anything.”

“I’ll get you a towel, some soap and a bowl of warm water. It’s the best we can do for now.”

“Thank you,” I said with real gratitude. “That would be ace.”

She smiled. “I’m afraid there’s not much to read, and there’s no TV in the side rooms, but I’ll see if I can find you a book or two. Might not be very exciting I’m afraid. Is that okay?”

“Yes please,” I said fervently. I was bored.

“Give me a little while and I’ll see what I can sort out.”

About twenty minutes later she came back with the towel and warm water. “You okay with this love?” she asked me in a friendly voice.

“Thank you, it’ll be lovely.”

She waddled out again. She was a middle aged woman, about the same age and height as my own mother, but probably three times the weight. When I’d put on the hospital gown I’d sneaked the knickers I was wearing off and hid them in my trouser pocket. This was the first chance I’d had since then to be on my own, so I quickly slipped them back on again. It felt more comfortable to be wearing underwear, even lacy knickers, than to be wearing the horrible, open backed, hospital gowns. After just a moments thought, I got completely dressed.

I sat down in the chair and waited. It felt like hours before the NA came back to retrieve the bowl and towel. She saw that I’d dressed, but said nothing, so I said nothing.

“Would you like a drink love? Tea? Or squash?”

“A cup of tea would be lovely,” I answered. “Thank you.”

She smiled and left with the wash stuff. Then it was the ward clerk who came in. She had a newspaper, three gossip magazines and a Mills and Boon romance novel. “It’s all I can find for the moment,” she said apologetically.

Shortly after the tea had arrived, and I’d flicked my way through one of the magazines, my phone rang. I looked at it. “Mum’s mobile” Mrs Clarke.

“Hi,” I said. “Sorry about that earlier, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No Toby, that’s absolutely fine. You did exactly the right thing. Okay, you’re obviously on your own at the moment, yes?”

“Yeah. I’ve been put in a side room because I’m under eighteen and should really be on a paediatric ward. The nurse said that’s silly ‘cos of how old I am, so they’ve left me here for the moment.”

“Okay, okay, that’s fine. If someone comes in, just say the word ‘Mum’ and I’ll stop. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now. Tell me what happened.”

I told her, carefully editing out the bit about Sandra and me on the bed. I told her everything I could remember, right up to when we had been rescued, even briefly mentioning that Sandra had been examined by someone who claimed to be a doctor, checking to see whether she was still a virgin. Throughout the entire thing, Mrs Clarke said nothing, not even to ask questions.

There was silence when I had finished.

“So Miss Walmsley knows you are alone?”

“Yes.”

She quizzed me on a couple of points, but otherwise didn’t say much. After a pause, she sighed. “You, me and Miss Walmsley are going to have to have a chat as soon as practically possible. In the mean time I think it might be best if you do move in with me”

“Yes Miss,” I muttered.

She chuckled. “I really don’t understand you. I know you want me. I know you have a crush on me. Yet you don’t want to come and live with me.”

I thought for a moment. “It’s down to what you said. About the wrong relationship. About how it mustn’t change yet.”

“Mmm. All right. I’ll think about it some more and we’ll have a talk when I get you home.”

“Yes Miss.”

“I’ll be leaving Yorkshire first thing in the morning. I’m sorry but I can’t leave now. I’ll come straight to the hospital. What ward are you on?”

“SAU.”

“Okay. I’ll find it. I’ll see you tomorrow as soon as I can.”

“Yes Miss, thank you. And sorry.”

She gave a little chuckle and hung up.

The police came to see me a bit later, and this time they went through my statement in much finer detail. They questioned me for well over an hour, before grudgingly leaving when a nurse came in to find out what was going on. She forcefully shooed them out when she realised just how long they had been there.

“You’re not supposed to be having any stress at the moment,” she told me a little crossly. Though I don’t think she was actually cross with me.

“It’s okay nurse, they weren’t stressing me.”

“So you might think,” she told me a little severely, then gave me a smile. “I can’t really imagine you would like that,” she nodded at the book. “I know where there are a few hidden away. Shall I see if I can find you something better?”

“Yes please.”

She frowned. “Did you get any lunch?”

“No.”

Her mouth closed and this time she looked really annoyed. She nodded and left. She was back two minutes later with a pack of sandwiches. “Sorry, this is all that’s left. This okay?”

It was sausage and tomato sauce. I nodded. “Fine.” I didn’t particularly like tomato sauce, but I didn’t dislike it either. It would do. She came back with a murder mystery book about five minutes later. “Not the most exciting,” she said with a soft laugh, “but it’ll be more interesting than a romance.”

“Thank you.”

I was given a hot meal about two hours or so later, went to bed in knickers and tee-shirt, and when I finally managed to get to sleep I slept, really slept, until I was woken up about six am.

“‘Ello love,” said the night nurse. The nurses on this ward worked a twelve and a half hour shift with the half hour for handover. Seven until seven thirty each day and worked three shifts a week. Most nurses worked days only or nights only, but one or two did both. We had sat and chatted for a little while the previous evening when she had brought me a late night cup of tea. She had noticed I was still awake and had come in to check I was okay. I had slept soundly after that and half wondered whether she had given me a sleeping pill. I didn’t ask though.

“Hello,” I said.

“Sleep well?”

“Very well in the end.”

She nodded. “I think it’s just ‘cos you were so tired from not sleeping the previous night.”

I nodded. “Could be. You off shortly?”

She looked at her watch. “Hour and a bit.”

“Good. Thank you. And tell everyone else as well.”

She smiled. “I will love. You’re leaving today?”

“Yeah. Not sure what time though. Mum’s driving down from Yorkshire.”

“Oh dear. Well it’ll be a long and boring drive down the M1, hope she takes suitable breaks.”

“I’m sure she will. She’s not daft. Can’t be, she’s an A-level maths teacher.”

The nurse laughed gently. “I’ll come and say goodbye before I leave.”

Mrs Clarke turned up almost dot on eleven o’clock. It had taken her just four hours, including a brief stop half way. While we were in the hospital, she treated me at all times as if I was a difficult son. Somehow she had managed to look different. Older. More haggard almost.

Once we were in the car however, she smiled at me, took a face wipe from her bag, and began to wash off what turned out to be makeup. “I do amateur dramatics,” she told me, “so I can make myself up to look a little older than I really am. They know you have a twenty-three year old sister and if I’d turned up looking my normal self, they would not have believed I was your mother. I’m barely old enough to have an eighteen, seventeen-year-old son. I’m certainly not old enough to have had a twenty-three-year-old daughter.”

“No Miss.” I said, fascinated by her transformation.

She gave me one of her lovely smiles and took me straight home.

“Get a shower. You stink,” she told me with a wry smile.

“Sorry.”

I showered, and this time I had to wear my own underwear. Because of Sandra’s visit I had removed all the knickers from my own room and there was no way Mrs Clarke would understand why I went into Mum’s or Jo’s room to get clothes to get dressed.

She had made us both mugs of tea, having checked that the milk was still okay, and was waiting for me when I finally got down, feeling so much better.

“All right, tell me what happened.”

I started to tell her all about the kidnap again, but she shook her head. “How did Sandra find out? What did you tell her?” The questions were quiet and relaxed. She didn’t sound at all cross or annoyed with me.

I frowned and tried to think back. Why had I told her? When had I told her.

Okay, I’d told her Friday afternoon in town. Why? I eventually remembered Sandra asking what I’d be doing for Christmas. I explained all this to Mrs Clarke.

“It’s funny,” she said. “I don’t know Sandra all that well. I’ve spoken to her on numerous occasions about Talulah, I was her form teacher in year nine, but still, she never really came to my attention. Yet the more I find out about her, the more I wonder about her. The more I realise she would be a wonderful asset and concubine to anyone. I even think that maybe, just maybe, she should actually be a sponsor. I’ve never actually seen her card, only what she’s told me. I wonder.”

She looked at me. “I really think you should come back with me. At least until the start of term. I’ll drop you about a mile away from the school and you can get a bus from there.”

I shook my head. “No Miss. Thank you an’ all, but it won’t work.”

She nodded. “Maybe not. But ... It’s New Years Eve tomorrow. Are you sure you want to be at home, alone, for that?”

Not really, I thought, but I nodded.

“Okay. When’s Sandra visiting again?”

“We’ve nothing arranged.”

“Um. See if you can arrange something. Monday. New years day would be best because we’re all back at school on Tuesday.”