Pandora's Box

The pasta was fuel, as simple and uninteresting as that. The wine, now - that felt as if it was doing some good, untying some of the knots of tension that had been fashioned in the past few hours.

The plates pushed aside, we both looked at the folder I'd brought with me from the room where I'd been held.

"I'm sorry, I can't look at that now," said Kate. "I want to know what's in it so badly, but I just don't think I'm strong enough. Sorry - I know how wet that sounds, but I can't cope with anything else today."

Thank Christ, I thought. Neither could I. The same fear was preventing me from asking what had happened to Mr Smith. I nodded my agreement.

It all seemed too much, on top of my fears for Jen. I knew I should be getting her out of there, but I didn't feel capable of even thinking about it. And some part of me knew that she was valuable to them, and that harming her wouldn't give them any more leverage than they already had.

I yawned, my eyes watering, my jaw making grinding noises inside my head.

"Right," said Kate. "Definitely bed-time for me. You stopping up?"

"No way. Knackered. Going to get my head down too. Tell you what, you take the bed, and I'll get some blankets and kip on the sofa."

She looked at me levelly. "Course you won't, Alan. No need for that."

I wasn't sure what to say. "Er, do you think we ... is that a good idea?"

"What? Oh. No, no. I just meant Sarah's got two bedrooms. No need for anyone to sleep on the settee.

"And no need for huddling together for warmth, either," she added.



Story begins here.