Chapter 12: Next Contestant, Please

Hi! This story contains some sudden scene transitions. This seems to confuse many of you. In the print version these jumps are clear(er) because only new paragraphs get a blank line. However, on this site every hard return gets a blank line. Fixing this would require going through the entire book to add the right display codes, and I can’t be bothered. So if you’re suddenly confused, just go back a few lines and you’ll likely figure it out. Cheers! RD.

On the way out I shook quite a few hands. I even looked for prince Asim (though not very hard) but he was nowhere to be seen or, more likely, heard. As we left the building, Caroline’s phone dinged.

“Oh dear,” she said, as she glanced at the screen. “Martin? Might I have a few minutes? I’d rather not deal with this in a moving vehicle.”

“Certainly. I’ll see if Mel is still up.”

And so Caroline started a call and walked to a quiet part of the huge parking lot, while I stayed with the car. I’d parked it myself this time, since there was a free space near the entrance. Mel didn’t respond to any messages, but she goes to bed early when I’m not there so I wasn’t bothered. Kate was on duty at the Media Centre and as a matter of principle I don’t send Kelly messages after ten p.m. The last few times I did that I had the distinct impression she was already in bed and she’d tried to make the conversation a lot more exciting that I had bargained for. I wasn’t quite avoiding her, but I found I was keeping her at arm’s length. She knew well enough not to send me a picture of her bare feet peeping out from under the duvet just to ‘show me she was tucked in bed’. Save that for bleedin’ Instagram. And your boyfriend.

A solitary figure emerged from the soundless sliding doors of The Torch.

“Hey ... Yo...” he muttered to the doorman, who just smiled politely. I looked up and saw Kunthy, rummaging through his pockets. He looked a bit unsteady to me, and Qatar isn’t a country where you want to be caught drinking and driving. I walked up to him and tried to engage him in a friendly chat.

“Hello, Kunthy. Did you have a nice evening?”

Drunk as a lord he was. Okay, perhaps that was overstating it somewhat. Unfit to drive, certainly.

“Hey ... British man. What do you want? I’m going home, man.”

He tried to push past me. Had he been sober I’d have braced myself and unless you’re in a high-speed train that means you are not getting through. The ‘shoving Martin into a wall’ thing had been tried exhaustively in my youth and I make it a point to respond in kind, plus a free little bonus. However, as he was drunk I let him get away with it. It did make him drop his keys, though. So I had those.

“Hey man! Asshole! Gimme that.”

“I don’t think so.”

He turned to face me and blew himself up. He was at least a foot taller than me.

“You wanna start something?”

“Sir? Shall I call security?” offered the doorman.

“No,” we said in unison. I dangled Kunthy’s keyfob in front of his face and practically ran towards my own car. He followed me.

“Get in. I’ll take you to your hotel. Can’t have you driving like this. Where’s your posse, anyway?”

“Don’t be using our words, white boy. My crew don’t need to be knowin’ about no deals until they’s done. Now gimme the keys before I put a cap in yo’ ass.”

He steadied himself on a lamp post as he said it, so even if he’d had a gun I would have been quite safe. But he didn’t, because he was in a strange country where they open each and every suitcase to make sure you’re not bringing in anything fun.

“With what exactly? Listen, either you get a cab via the doorman or I drive you home. You’re not driving tonight.”

He swung for me. He actually swung for me! I didn’t even have to dodge him.

“GIMME KEYS!”

I walked around him in a half circle and reached into my pocket. He turned to face me and I pressed the lowest button on the Vanquish’s remote. The trunk popped open and silently rose behind his back.

“You want your keys?”

“YEAH!”

I tossed them in the trunk, over his shoulder. He turned round and began to look for them. The interior was lined with that black stuff you get in every car, the fake wool. Only this was probably Peruvian Panda-ass wool, or something.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKING...” he began. I reached over, took his paving tile of a phone, a Samsung Serving Tray or something, from his rear pocket and just bundled him into the trunk. Or boot, whatever. The one at the back, at any rate. It wasn’t hard. I just pushed his head down, picked up one leg and swung him over.

“Mind your fingers,” I said, and gently lowered the lid. Is it lid in the 500 square metres where you grew up? Hood, trunk, bonnet, lid, back, rear, flap, fifth door: just figure it out. I’m doing you a courtesy by using English as it is. I’m hardly going to push a fellow into the engine compartment, am I?

“Martin? What are you muttering about?” asked Caroline, who emerged from the dark into the orange light of the lamp post next to my car.

“The regional differences in English. They annoy me. Greatly.”

“Sounds like it’s time for bed. So why ... WHO THE DICKENS IS IN THERE?”

A muffled scream gave away my little secret.

“Kunthy South. He’s drunk and he was going to drive home. And he didn’t want to get in the back seat.”

“Well get him out before he calls the police!”

“With what?” I said, holding up his phone. Caroline’s face relaxed at once.

“Oh, that’s alright then. If that is his only one. Did anyone see you?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Well, he’s staying at the Sheraton, so that’s on our way. Shall we?”

By now South was kicking the inside of the bonnetlidtrunkhoodflap. We both stared at the car for a second. Caroline reached a decision.

“Best let him out again, Martin. It is illegal, after all. Even here, as he’s a male. I’ll deal with him.”

“Okay,” I said, and reached in my pocket again. The lid unlocked.

“Take a short walk, Martin. Two, three minutes. NOW.”

I walked to the far end of a lovely fountain. I wouldn’t say Caroline has a shrill voice, but if she is cross with you it is very evident from her tone. One of the most famous musicians on Earth then got a dressing down from her he was likely to remember for the rest of his life. Through the jets of water I could just make them out. He stood there like a school boy. It’s always the same with these big mouth types, isn’t it? They just need to meet a bigger bully.

A shrill whistle, the kind a grizzled cowboy would be proud to be able to do on his fingers, sounded through the relatively quiet Doha night. I was quite sure who that had been. As I walked back to the Vanquish I heard the last part of their conversation.

“Just be glad he found it amusing. I’ve seen what he does to people when he gets upset. The short ones are the mean ones, remember that. Now get in. Martin, give him his phone.”

I gave Kunthy his glass paving tile. He was too tall to fit in the back, so Caroline gave us both a brief but memorable lecture on ‘playing nice’ and instructed him to sit next to me. We drove away in silence.

Not five hundred metres from the hotel there was a police checkpoint. We were flagged down and I had to blow into a breathalyser. As my half beer had been about two hours ago, it didn’t register anything.

“Shiiiiiiit...” said South, as I gently pulled out and merged back into traffic. Caroline spoke up.

“Indeed. I’m calling Andrew back at the bar, to alert the others. Although perhaps I shouldn’t. A night in prison for the competition, or indeed an extradition, would no doubt work in Martin’s favour. You are at the Sheraton, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We dropped Kunthy off and I gave him back his keys. He mumbled some kind of ‘thanks’ as Caroline switched to the front seat and disappeared inside. This wasn’t our hotel, but it was nearby. Enough time for Caroline to rebuke me, though:

“You HAD to put him in the boot, didn’t you?”

“I’m a little on edge right now. It seemed like a fun thing to do.”

“You don’t say. Being nice for a whole two hours really takes it out of you, doesn’t it?”

“YES, WELL, IT’S A BIT MORE THAN THAT, THOUGH!” I snapped. “I’ve had a bit of a day. Do you wanna hear about it? Huh?”

“Always, dear,” she said, completely calm.

“Well, first of all I had to attend a memorial service for that dead pilot! And speak to his wife and daughter for half an hour! No, his WIDOW and daughter.”

“Yes, you told me that. Very decent of you, Martin.”

“So that took me two hours, all told. And then I found a guy who was near death by the side of the road. His friend was walking him to hospital. WALKING! In this heat! They only had about fifty kilometres to go! So I drove him there, didn’t I? And then I had so little time left I fucking CHEATED. I mean, it’s probably very clever to find the coordinates, but it is still cheating!”

“Martin, calm down. This is a lot to take in. Someone nearly died, you say?”

“Yes! Some poor Paki bastard with diabetes couldn’t get proper treatment at his labour camp, so he and his cousin decided to go private. But they couldn’t even afford a taxi!”

“Where did you take him?”

“A diabetes clinic in Doha. I forget where. Anyway, that was MY fucking day. And then I try to stop the guy who stands between me and a free ASTON MARTIN from killing himself or someone else and he SWINGS at me?! I’m not having that. I am not fucking having that! What did that arrogant prick do today? He followed Pepi around! The only good thing HE did today was not record another one of his SHIT songs! And he’s two points ahead of me for being too fucking stupid to understand how dangerous racing is!”

God, I was livid. It’s a good thing Caroline isn’t even a tiny bit afraid of me. Mel finds it very difficult to handle me when I’m like this. I bottle things up. I shouldn’t, but I know what I’m like when I get angry. Best to avoid that.

“Martin, dear, please pull over right there. No, please, right now.”

The hotel district is entirely paved, with sidewalks that run along lush greenery and past lots of fountains. I pulled into a parking bay outside some high-rise, which was designated for unloading during work hours.

“WHAT? I’m FINE!” I barked. “You don’t have to walk home!”

“Let Caroline drive, dear. I think you’re a bit too upset.”

“Look, this isn’t a regular car! See this? Flappy paddles. That’s your gears. You can’t just...”

“I know perfectly well how to drive this car, Martin. I live above the dealership, remember? Just swap places with me.”

I did as she asked. She took off her heels and drove us to the hotel, barefoot. It’s probably sexist of me to be surprised at that, but I was and it helped to distract me. But then, I should stop being surprised about anything I learn about Caroline.

Western women are allowed to drive in Qatar, but even so the guy who opened the door on her side had a bit of a surprise.

“Park this in whatever space is reserved for the Ambassador suite and leave the key at reception,” was all she said, as she actually leaned on him while she put her shoes back on. I knew he wasn’t really Qatari, but he was probably a real Muslim and I admired the way he rolled with it. I handed in my laptop without breaking stride as I followed her to the lift. A well-heeled elderly couple just sauntered out of the hotel restaurant and so we stood there quietly until they got out on the sixth floor.

“How are you feeling now, dear?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Tired. Don’t think I’ll sleep much tonight, though.”

“It’s not even midnight yet. Do you want to sit down and talk it all over? I’ll make you a cup of tea and you can tell me more about those two men.”

“Don’t you usually go to bed at eleven?”

“That’s just a good habit, not a pressing need. I think Kate is right: you’ve had rather a lot on your plate in the past few years. Talking helps. Ideally to a psychologist, who would be able to identify the damage and blockades this has caused and teach you coping strategies. But you don’t strike me as someone who would entertain that option.”

She inserted her keycard and the lock opened at once. Typical: I always, always need three goes.

“I’ll make the tea. Do you want anything?” I said, as I took off my own shoes in her hallway. “Hey, what’s happened here?”

The lights were on, but mostly dimmed. Everything was tidied up: sofa cushions were fluffed, the usual array of folders and cardboard signs telling you about room service and what to do with your towels were back in place and the curtains were drawn. Through the open door to her bedroom I could see that the duvet cover was pulled back and there was a towel folded like a swan on the foot of the bed.

“Turn down service, dear. I imagine it’s the same in your room. And I’ll do the tea. It’s just about all I can manage so I like to practice it. Why don’t you go to your room, take off your suit and wear whatever you like? Or would you like to have a shower first?”

“Oh yes, I would! Can you give me ten minutes?”

“Take however long you like, dear. Just don’t be frightened when you return: there’s no mummy in the room, it’s just this tired, old cougar without the hair and makeup.”

I had seen her like that several times before and she’s different but no less pleasing to look at. The woman takes extraordinary good care of herself and a layer of powder and some curls really don’t make that much of a difference. I guess she was feeling vulnerable today, having been turned down by Gareth.

“Don’t be silly,” I said, and brushed my hand along her buttocks just before I went through the door to my own room. She was right: I had received turn-down service as well. My slippers were placed next to the bed and I had a small wicker basket with some treats waiting for me: raisins, a sealed chocolate chip cookie and a sliced peach in a sealed, clear container. There was even a note:

‘We hope Mr. King had a very pleasant evening. This is for him and Mr. Carstairs, with compliments from his colleagues in hospitality.’

I was so touched I almost went back to Caroline’s room to tell her about it, but then decided she would probably like some privacy. I devoured the peach, left the suit and almost everything else on one of the beds in a room I hadn’t even been in yet and took a shower. I shaved again, just because my shaving cream was a gift from Melody and I love the smell. Or rather: I love her and that’s the smell she picked for me. Then I put on clean underwear and a bathrobe and went back to Caroline’s room.

A cup of tea was waiting on her salon table, next to a glass of sparkling water. She, too, had showered, but wore a red, silk night gown with a dragon printed on it. Her hair was pulled back and in a bun, held together by what seemed to be expensive lacquered chop sticks. I call her my pet dragon but I’d never tell her that and so I just smiled as she came back into the room.

“Oh, there you are. Your tea should be just about perfect, dear.”

“Thank you. May I say you still look great? If you want to do some kabuki, be my guest.”

She smiled.

“I’m sorry to disappoint. I can probably manage some calligraphy, but you should have called ahead. Do you like the chopsticks? It’s called Kanshazi. Wearing elaborate hair pins, I mean.”

She took the water and sat down next to me, quite close.

“Love it. But then I’m envious of anyone with hair.”

She giggled demurely behind her hand, pretending to be a geisha. Come to think of it: she would probably be able to pass herself off as one! Endless pleasant conversation? A surprising array of weird and wonderful skills and tricks? Some dancing? Easy peasy for her.

“Would I be right in thinking you would refuse to speak to a psychologist, or any kind of mental health professional?” she said, and took a sip of her water. I stirred my tea.

“Pretty much. That sort of thing is for people who’ve seen terrible accidents happen, or who have been abused. I’m just tired. All I need is my family and my friends and I’ll be fine. And I have a dear friend right here.”

She shook her head.

“Of course you would think that. But tonight you resorted to violence for very little reason, Martin. And I see it in your posture and your breathing, too.”

“I’m not talking to a shrink and that’s that. What am I going to say, anyway: ‘Oh dear, look at my life: I’ve made millions of pounds, I get applause when people spot me in the Underground, I’m driven to work in a limousine and I have an amazing wife and a healthy, happy little boy. Oh, woe is me!’ I mean, they’re going to have me committed, aren’t they? For moaning.”

“That ... is an amazing and likely wilful misunderstanding of the purpose of counselling. Peter is just the same. He comes back from having killed more mobsters than béchamel sauce, shaking like a leaf, and claims he’ll be fine after a few rounds of squash and a twenty year old German art student.”

“Wait, what? He plays squash with a German art student?”

“No, he plays squash with his driver and he has exhaustive sex with a German art student.”

“Oh. Doesn’t sound very appealing. I mean, I hate squash.”

She didn’t even laugh, even though I find the notion of me doing anything even remotely homosexual very comical. It’s like Prince Charles suddenly taking up Krav Maga.

“Pa-dum,” she said, pretending a tired drum-roll followed my joke. “Anyway, that’s not something we need to go into right now. Martin, if you like I’m available to you. I’m not sure if I’d be taking advantage of you, so I’ll come right out with it: if you need to wind down by having sex, I’m all for it. But please, not just on my account. I’d feel awful if you just did it for me.”

“Oh! This is a ... I mean, I figured we might, on this trip. As it’s been a while. But my mind wasn’t on it.”

“From what I hear it rarely is, these days. Which is one of the reasons we’re all worried. I haven’t much to offer, Martin, but you’re welcome to it. Peter does his best, poor thing, but sometimes a girl just likes to be ravished. A little. Or a lot, if that would help you.”

I put my arm around her and pulled her in.

“You have a lot to offer. Boy, that idiot turning you down really shook you up, didn’t it? I can stuff him in the back of a car for you, if you like. Knock some sense into him? Take him out into the desert? Pang pang, back of the head?”

“Oh you would, wouldn’t you?” she said, turning her head slightly sideways so our noses wouldn’t bump into each other. As I considered my own joke I realised that physically hurting someone who deserved it (though not a young man who had been a bit too direct in turning away a mature woman) would probably really cheer me up! Something like setting a child molester ablaze, or dismembering a House Republican with dental floss, that would be very relaxing. I turned away from that train of thought, because it scared me. I don’t even watch horror films! Still, I was halfway into a joke so I saw it through:

“Just say the word, Caroline.”

“I’d rather you did something productive with that willingness to please me...”

We kissed for a few minutes. A bit awkwardly at first, because it’s always been a while when we do and we need to ease into it. But she’s a great kisser and I didn’t notice any alcohol on her breath, or even anything of the cigarettes she sometimes smokes on the sly.

“What’s this?” she asked after the first few kisses, and then gently leaned in to lick my lips.

“Might be peach. There was one in my room. But I had a shower after.”

“I have a very good sense of taste, you know ... And you’re right: it’s peach and ... aftershave balm.”

“That could well be it!”

“Why don’t you check the chain locks on your door and mine? We don’t want the Islamic Inquisition showing up, do we? I think I have the biggest bed. Though perhaps smaller is better...”

“What a good idea. I have tie-rips in my luggage. I’ll set the locks extra tight, so they can’t open it with a rubber band and some sticky tape.”

“They can do that?”

“Sure. Takes about a minute, but you need to be able to push your arm through the opening to attach the tape to the back of the door.”

“I love that you know these things! Or did Peter teach you this?”

“No. When Kate started spending a lot of time in hotels I thought up a few tricks to make her safer. She always uses a tie rip. Just tie up the slack in the chain and nobody can sneak in.”

“You take such good care of your sister, Martin. It’s quite disarming. But I bet Kate is pretty much the last person you’d want on your mind before you make love, so banish her from your thoughts and keep us safe from Sharia law.”

Yeah ... Kate and sex don’t mix. Keep thinking that, Caroline ... Keep thinking that.

“Want to go again?”

“Very much, dear. But it’s gone one a.m. and my leg is twitching. From that last position.”

“You should have said something!”

“Oh, screw the leg! Come on, we can go again if you like. Let me just...”

She reached for an unlabelled tube of gel, which contained a vaginal lubricant. She was quite embarrassed when she had to fetch it from the bathroom and actually stammered when she brought it up!

“I’m just ... The mind is willing, Martin. It really is. But I am on the wrong side of twenty-nine, as you so kindly put it. And ... well ... It helps. The tissues that create the...”

“Caroline, it’s fine! I don’t take it as an insult. We’re both grown-ups, for goodness’ sake.”

“I’m so relieved to hear you say that. When I used it with Peter he lost his ... panache.”

“Well, stick on a false moustache and he’ll soon have it back, I’m sure. Maybe stick it between your shoulder blades.”

“Martin! That’s not a very nice thing to say. He tries, the poor dear. Oh, could you not look while I’m...”

“I won’t, but I’m telling you it’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Says you. Turn your head, dear. I wish you had this attitude towards psychological care.”

“Oh, that again? While we’re doing THIS?”

“YES! Because I care about you! There ... good to go. Tell you what, if you can make that tube run out by 6 a.m. tomorrow morning, you won’t have to go to round four: I’ll buy you an Aston Martin myself.”

“You say the hottest things, Caroline...”

But we didn’t quite finish the tube. Actually, we didn’t get anywhere near. When we got going, she didn’t need it anymore. And besides, sex shouldn’t be like YouPorn. Well, maybe the enthusiasm. And the frequency. But not the positions, or at least not most of them. I like sex a lot, but what I like most of all, really, is the willingness: the simple fact someone is willing and preferably keen to do these things with me. Getting short-changed in that department in your youth can really do a number on you. It did on me. But it comes with a bonus, which is that you’ll never take sex for granted.

“It’s fine, Caroline. What is that stuff, anyway? Blank label?”

“Yes. I had a pharmacist make it to order. If some customs officer rifles through my stuff, I can say it’s massage gel. Well, if you’re sure ... Goodnight, then.”

She turned off the lights via a control panel on the night stand.

“Hey, wait a minute! I’m not a bat!”

“Martin, you can stay for the night. I’d like that.”

“Yeah, but ... If we’re asleep, we may not hear them trying to get in via my room.”

“Oh, please! That isn’t really going to happen. Westerners can do what they like, especially in the Ambassador suite. We could be roasting virgins over a coal fire and they’d merely offer to take the batteries out of the smoke detector. We both slept in your room last night, remember?”

“Yeah. Vaguely. Okay, but I may do unspeakable things in my sleep. And I snore.”

“I’ll survive, Martin. It’s why we are the superior gender. Good night. What was that? No, you mumbled something.”

“I said: you might have landed that plane yourself, if you were superior. Good night.”

We were back home. Kate was locked in the bathroom, much to her chagrin. Mel sat in a chair that leaned against the bathroom door and prevented the handle from turning downward as long as she kept her weight on it. I was running from room to room, making sure nobody got in to harm Kate. Mel was screaming at me, complaining about the racket Kate made behind her back.

“SHE’S GONNA KILL ME!”

“KEEP HER THERE! IT’S THE ONLY WAY TO KEEP HER SAFE!”

Edwin was in charge of the tiny window of the downstairs loo, because I didn’t seriously believe our attackers would come in via that one and the little lad wanted to help out. I used a cast iron fire place poker to ward off the dark, shadowy figures that tried to get in through the windows of the first floor, but it was hard work. One of them threw up on me and I got soaking wet.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“I’m sorry Martin, I was out of options,” said Caroline, flushed and sweaty. I found myself standing on top of the small brown sofa that had been in the corner of our bedroom. For some reason it was now barricading the door. It opened out and I could in fact see the rest of our suite, but in my nightmare none of that had registered. I was breathing heavily, clearly having exerted myself a lot. Sweat dripped from my bald dome into my eyes, even though the AC was on.

“Are you awake now?” asked Caroline, holding an empty glass. I realised I was standing on wobbly cushions and nearly lost my balance.

“WHAAAA!”

“Be careful, for God’s sake!”

She held out her hand so I could steady myself as I climbed down.

“Well, this has been a very interesting night,” said Caroline, as she plopped down onto the bed. “My goodness, Melody wasn’t exaggerating when she said you have nightmares...”

“Oh God, what did I do?” I said, as I moved the sofa to its original position.

“You defended Kate from something. It started with merely talking in your sleep, for which I had been warned. I tried to reason with you, to calm you down. You kept addressing me as Melody. And then you got up, gave a very stern speech in the doorway to persons unknown, threatening them with violent deaths and threw up a barricade. That’s when I decided to let you cool down.”

I buried my head between my hands.

“Do you think security might show up?”

“Shouldn’t think so. You appear to fight in relative silence. And the speech was more of a ... huh huh ... more of a...”

Now that I was awake and Caroline could stop worrying, she started to giggle. I don’t often see her doing that, which made me start doing it. I imagine there’s nothing funny about a loved one who sleepwalks, but it was just stress relief.

“Jesus, I really needed this. Especially away from home,” I chuckled. She put her hand around my shoulder and pulled me close.

“It’s okay, Martin. You weren’t going to hurt me or even yourself. Though I was worried there would be some property damage. From what we’ve been able to work out, it’s triggered by stressful events. Well, in that case it was practically guaranteed.”

“Yeah. Who’s ‘we’, anyway?”

“The people who care about you. Well, the ones who know you and who possess a keen insight into human nature. I’ve suggested Kate record a soothing video of herself for Melody to play on her phone. To make you stand down. Poor thing.”

“Don’t worry about Kate. It’s worse for Mel. Kate can calm me down with just a few words, but I never seem to protect Melody. She just gets drafted.”

“Yes. I rather meant ‘poor you’, actually. You can’t seem to leave the house with getting involved in something weird. As I’ve said before: it is taking its toll. Ung ... I need a glass of water. I was fast asleep ten minutes ago. No, don’t get up. Try to find my watch, if you will.”

“What?”

“You seemed to think it was a grenade and lobbed it into the room. I think it landed on the credenza next to the sliding doors. Then come straight back to bed: we can still have about three hours of sleep.”

I spent almost an hour worrying about my mental health, followed by two hours of dark, dreamless respite from the rest of the world. Caroline was taking a shower when I woke up, so I went back to my own room and showered there. When I came back, a reasonably decent breakfast was waiting for me: tea, crackers, jam, a peeled orange and a boiled egg. Not quite what I crave, but much better than those bloody avocados.

“Some comfort food,” explained Caroline. “And for further comfort I have arranged a FaceTime call with your family. They should be calling on my iPad in about five minutes, so I’ll make myself comfortable in your room if that’s okay. I’ll pick a suit for you.”

“I only brought two.”

“Two is a choice, last time I checked. And don’t answer any of my other messages, please.”

“Oh, I’m gonna get you laid. The first person to call on you is getting lucky tonight!”

“I ‘got laid’ last night. I’m good until 2020, at least.”

“I’ll remind you of that after dinner tonight.”

I think I won, because she shook her head and disappeared into my room. I started breakfast and was pleased to see an incoming call from Kate. When the connection was made, I saw Kate, Mel and Edwin. They were in the kitchen, having tea. Edwin sat in his high chair.

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