Meeting Kelly again - part 1

The flurry of last minute activity kept me occupied in the days leading up to the tour, but in the nights I dreamt of Kelly. We did not do anything together or re-enact the previous encounter; she was just there as part of my dreams; usually noticed in a crowd. When I woke, before the days of preparation crashed in on me, I would remember the dream more for the presence of Kelly than whatever I was dreaming about.

Touring is not a leisurely pursuit. The two days between the dates at each venue are packed with activity. It usually goes like this; early in the morning I do the rounds of local radio to drum up interest in the show and ensure full houses, meanwhile my crew, sometimes aided by the resident theatre crew, unload and prepare the equipment, which has arrived overnight from being packed-up at the previous venue and transported in two large articulated lorries. Running repairs are made as necessary, then in the evening we do a dress rehearsal, because each theatre is different and the access from backstage to the back of the stalls can be variable and it gives my technicians and the theatre's technicians a chance to get to understand what is needed and what can be done with the resident equipment. The morning of the first date is usually taken up with a meeting between the technicians, which I always attend, to discuss the finer points of the technical side of the show; they normally present me with options on how something is going to look and I get to choose which I feel will result in a better outcome in terms of audience experience. The afternoon is spent with the assistants and dancers practising the modifications to the routines (dance and magical) that need to be made to fit the particular theatre. These are long, hard days with a show to perform at the end of them; I rarely have any trouble sleeping.

At the first two dates I thought I saw Kelly in the crowd at the stage door after the show. I do not know how I could pick out a face I had seen once from a crowd and assumed that she seemed to be on my mind, when it was not busy with something more immediate, and was putting her face on a stranger in the crowd. Most of those hanging round the stage were there to get my autograph, but a fair proportion were there to get a better look at my lead assistants, Judy and Ferrera, who had many admirers and their own fan clubs.

At the next two dates, a hundred miles from the first two, I saw Kelly in the crowd and this time I was sure it was her, because she had managed on both days to get to the front of the crowd, but unlike most of them, she was not waving an autograph book at me; she was just staring with a mix of curiosity and adoration.

At the local radio station before date five, one of the producers passed me a note asking me to call a number with a request to call it after my radio appearance. After I had finished my bit and left the amazed radio presenters, I looked for the person who had passed me the note to ask her what the note was about. She said that the caller had requested that she be called back privately, a request they would not have done anything about if the caller had not stated that the matter was about a vulnerable person. I assured the producer that I would call as soon I had the chance.

The chance did not present itself until the following morning. I called the number.

When the phone was answered, a harassed older female voice said, "Hello, Dr Paston speaking."

"Erm, I'm sorry I didn't call you back sooner, but I was exceptionally busy yesterday. The radio station passed on your number saying it was to do with a vulnerable person."

"Are you Mr Carlson?" I confirmed was. She continued, "It's about Andrea."

The name rang a vague bell, but I asked, "Who?" I did not recall knowing or meeting any Andreas.

"Oh yes, She told you she was called Kelly."

"Is that the Kelly I levitated on the talk show a bit over a week ago?"

"Um, yes. We are worried about her; she has been absconding to come and see you, judging by her internet history."

I was a bit worried by the turn of phrase; who was Dr Paston? Why was she using a word like 'abscond'? Why was she looking at a young person's internet history? And what had all this to do with a 'vulnerable person'? I decided I need to ask for clarification. "Forgive me for being sceptical, but who are you and what have you got to do with Kelly?"

"I'm glad you are taking this seriously. I am Dr Elizabeth Paston; I run a home for vulnerable children and young adults where Andrea... Kelly is resident and as such I am her legal guardian."

"Ok, and what can I do for you?" At this point I recognise the voice over the phone as that of the older woman who had re-claimed Kelly after the talk show.

"Well, Andr-, er, Kelly seems to have developed an obsession with you."

"Um, is that good or bad? I assume 'bad', otherwise you wouldn't have called."

"Well, we don't think she poses a danger to you, but we are worried about her safety. I hoped we could persuade you to intervene, because she seems to trust you."

I pondered this for a moment, then asked, "Intervene? In what way, er, how?"

"I'm not quite sure, to tell the truth, but if you could have a word with her and make sure that she has eaten and has somewhere safe to stay or a plan for getting back here. You must meet a lot of people in your line of work; I'm sure you'll handle her well. And if you feel you need to do something to help her, we will reimburse any reasonable expenses."

"Ok, if I see, er, Kelly, I'll talk to her, but I'm making no promises." I had paused before using Kelly's name considering referring to her as Andrea for the comfort of Dr Paston, but decided that I liked the name Kelly more and that it would be a betrayal of Kelly to use the alternate name; I also had some inkling that Kelly would know I had used her other name and trust me less for it.

The rest of the day flew by and I did not have time to spare another thought for Kelly until the show was done and we (the cast) were preparing to leave (the crew usually do the preparations to load the kit in the lorries, but that night being the first of two dates in the city meant just arranging the props ready for the next night).

I wondered if I would see Kelly tonight; the anticipation of seeing Kelly felt good, but was underscored with a worry that she might not be there or, worse, be there and reject my offer of help.

Just inside the stage door, I asked Judy, "Is Kelly out there?"

Her response of "Who's Kelly?" told me that I was the only one to notice her presence at the four previous dates. I stepped through the door and greeted the autograph hunters and fans; I may not have been quite so friendly and accommodating as usual, but they seemed satisfied.

At the end of the front row of stage-door fans was Kelly. I felt relief that she had got here safely, with a tinge of worry, because the city late at night is not a good place for an unaccompanied young woman. When I got to her, I asked, "Would you like a private talk with me?" and held out my hand. She took my hand and we walked the short distance to my car, followed by the jealous gazes of a few fans who wished it was them.

I unlocked the car and opened the door for Kelly. She turned to me and asked, "Do you know who I am?"

I felt suddenly put on the spot; this was a test. A torrent of possible answers rushed through my head. I decided honesty was required. "You are Kelly, but you are sometimes called Andrea. I want to know more than I have been told and I want to help you if I can."

She took about two seconds to appraise the answer and I got the clear impression that she had not liked me referring to her other name. She, then, got into the car and allowed me to shut the door. I circled the car and got in the driver's door.

"Where are we going?" asked Kelly, even before I had the key in the ignition.

I took the time to insert the key. "Well, usually I would drive to my digs." She looked puzzled. "That's theatrical slang for where I'm staying, my lodgings." I knew she now understood, so I carried on. "If you want a lift to somewhere, I can take you there; wherever you're staying or the train station perhaps." I suddenly felt that it sounded like I was trying to get rid of her, although in my head I was trying find out if she had somewhere to stay or a plan to get home. "Or we could just sit here and talk, but I doubt it would remain private for long. If it's not too far I could take you home."

Kelly bristled at my offer to take her home. "I've got a bus ticket that'll get me home, but I didn't think of finding 'digs' for tonight and tomorrow night. I'm going to see you tomorrow night too and the bus goes the next morning." I felt her mind change gear. "Did Betty ask you to pick me up?" she said, her tone suspicious and her hand reaching for the door handle.

"Who's Betty?" I was surprised by the question, not recalling anyone called Betty, particularly not in relation to Kelly. She seemed surprise by my answer and her hand stopped feeling for the door handle.

"She runs the home." Then it clicked; Betty was the name the residents of the home would probably use for Dr Elizabeth Paston; whether from familiarity or contempt I was unsure, but suspected the latter.

"Erm," was all I could manage. I was lost once more in a welter of possible answers, I took me a while to pick the one I felt was needed; one that was honest, but did not associate me with the authority figure in her life. I picked one and hoped that it would be the right one. "Dr Paston did call me and ask if I'd help you," I deliberately used her title, rather than anything more familiar to try and sound unconnected with the woman, "but that's not entirely why I 'picked you up', as you put it."

Her hand was tense on the door handle now, but she had not decided whether to stay or flee. What I said next would make Kelly's mind up one way or the other. In the background I could see there were some fans approaching and they would soon spot me and I did not feel I could cope with both Kelly and fans at this point. I turned the key in the ignition and said, "Why don't I take you to my digs and we'll see if Mrs Phipps has a bed you can use tonight. And we can talk more about whatever we need to talk about." I pulled away from the kerb and she seemed to relax enough to hurriedly put on her seat-belt; reminded, I slowed down a little and put my own on too.

The drive to the lodging house was fairly short and the only voice was the sat-nav directing me there. When we arrived I parked in the parking area and held the door for Kelly to get out.

I took out the key with the large tag declaring it belonged to "The London Road Guest House" and headed for the front door; Kelly followed. I opened the door and went in, holding it to allow Kelly to enter.

"Is that you, Mr Carlson?" called Mrs Phipps' voice. "Would you like some supper?"

"Thank you, Mrs Phipps," I called back. Most of the places I choose to stay offer 'supper' as an extra, which is a godsend, as my schedule often makes getting proper meals nearly impossible; some days I struggle to find time for a sandwich between breakfast and supper. "Have you room from an extra?" I added.

The noises from the kitchen ceased as Mrs Phipps came to see what I was talking about. As she emerged through the door into the hall, she was saying, "As you know, we are usually fully booked," as prelude to assessing whether I really wanted my 'extra' to be accommodated, an excuse to share my room or someone to tell my 'guest' to find somewhere else to stay. She looked at Kelly with a look of total surprise; I do not know what she expected, but Kelly was not it. At a loss to divine what I intended, she asked, "What do you need?"

"If you could do supper, and bed and breakfast for Kelly, here, I'd appreciate it." I put my hand between Kelly's shoulders and pushed her forward slightly, that Mrs Phipps might make a better assessment of my guest. Kelly was wearing a calf-length skirt and a white cotton blouse was visible under her dark grey fleece jacket. She had on cleanish flat black shoes and pale blue socks leaving her shins bare.

"Will you be having your supper in the dining room?" asked Mrs Phipps.

"I hope it is not too much of an imposition, but I think we'll have supper in my room; I think we will need the privacy to talk." Mrs Phipps looked a little suspicious. "Kelly and I need some time to talk with minimal interruptions, but when supper's ready just knock and come in. And when Kelly's room is ready, just knock and we'll transfer to there if the conversation is not finished. Oh and I just thought, Kelly doesn't seem to be particularly well prepared, so if you have a nightdress or pyjamas she could borrow that would be good too."

"Would you like anything else, Mr Carlson?" she asked with bill-inflating sarcasm.

I ignored this and said, "I think we are putting you to enough trouble as it is, so no. By the way, what is for supper?"

"What with the extra guest and all, I'll only have time to make an omelette and some chips, would you like ham, mushroom or cheese?"

"Ham, please. And which would you like, Kelly?"

Kelly did not seem to expect to be offered a choice, so the question took her by surprise. "Erm," she started, trying to decide if it was permissible to choose something different. I felt her ask how polite she should be, so I tried to project that my level of politeness was sufficient. "I would like mushroom, if that's not too much trouble, Mrs Phipps."

Mrs Phipps seemed to take this request well. She said, "Your suppers will be about twenty minutes," before retreating to the kitchen.

I pointed up the stairs and Kelly instantly got the message and seemed to go straight to my room without need for further guidance, but I could not tell if she was using our mental connection or following subtle cues that I might have been giving without intending to. She stood back and allowed me to open the door and lead her in.

I immediately felt her sense of disappointment, when the room was small and not well decorated, with a sectioned off corner which held a shower cubicle, a sink and a toilet, leading to the room being charged as en-suite. I do not know why, but I felt that I needed to defend this arrangement. "I know, it's simple, but it's all I need when I'm on tour. Most of the day I spend at the theatre or flitting between radio and TV stations, so, so long as the bed is comfortable, it serves what I need."

I could tell that she knew I was sincere, but was having difficulty processing that the simplicity of the lodgings was not important. I got the impression that she was comparing it with the room she had at the home and finding it lacking. She ventured an 'ok', to show she was not doubting me, but still did not get it.

I had a feeling this was going to be a difficult conversation, so I asked her to take a seat and get comfortable. This she did by removing her fleece and dropping into the only comfortable chair in the room; her fleece was soon a pile on the floor beside the seat and she tucked her feet under herself so that she was half sitting on them. I sat on the bed.

Before I could think of a way of get the conversation going, Kelly kicked off with, "So, Betty called you. Why?"

Not sure why, but I felt I needed to explain myself. "Well, actually I called her, but I did not know it was anything to do with you. She called the radio station I was at yesterday morning and asked them to pass me a message asking me to call a number saying it was to do with a vulnerable person; I didn't know that that was you. I called her back this morning, and she asked me to look out for you and make sure you were safe."

"And how did she know to call you?"

"She said something about your internet history; I thought it sounded a bit odd at the time."

"She can't have; I clear my browser's history every time and anyway I would know if she had been at my laptop."

I pointed out, in a tone that I immediately knew sounded like a lecture from Kelly's point of view, "I guess they record how the network is being used; I'm assuming that you were using the network or Wi-Fi at the home."

She looked a bit sullen, as if I had pointed out that she had been stupid (which I supposed I had).

This made me nervous and when I am nervous I like to fiddle with things to expend some of the energy. I picked up the set of steel rings that lay on the bedside cabinet and began, in a semi-automatic way, born of familiarity and long practice, to link and unlink the rings in various combinations. I had a feeling the next question would be difficult to answer.

"Maybe, I could have been more careful, when I looked you up on the web," she admitted. "But what would you have done if Betty had not contacted you?"

"I would definitely have spoken to you." She look as if she did not entirely believe me, despite there seeming to be some kind of mental connection between us. "I try and make a point of speaking to people I see several times."

"And then what?"

"I don't know," I answered, continuing my honesty is the best policy interaction with Kelly. "It would probably have depended on what you said, but I don't think I would have 'picked you up' if Dr Paston hadn't been in touch. What would you have done?"

"I guess I would have found somewhere out of the weather to curl up, but this week's weather isn't as nice as last week. I'd have gone to a supermarket and stolen some sausage rolls or something like that; you see I haven't got much money with me."

"Well, at least you'll have a hot meal and a proper bed tonight. And we'll have to see about sorting something out for tomorrow night."

I am not sure what I was about to say next, but I was saved the trouble, by Kelly interrupting. "Thank you. But could you stop fidgeting with those rings? I find the clinking annoying."

"Sorry, I wasn't really paying them much attention. I find I just need something to do with my hands when I'm nervous." While saying this I showed Kelly that I had a chain of five linked rings and began, with deliberate care not to make a sound, to unlink them and place each one separately on the blanket beside where I sat.

"You? Nervous? What have you got to be nervous about?"

"Two things I can think, off the top of my head. First, I'm a middle-aged man in a guest house room with a young, possibly underage girl, I can feel Mrs Phipps putting two and two together and getting potatoes. And more importantly, I know we need to talk about something, but I, for one, haven't a clue what that something might be; do you?"

Kelly thought about this for a short while; I was trying to resist the urge to pick up the rings again. "If I know Betty, she wouldn't ask you to 'help' me, if she had any doubt that I would be safe with you. And I would be happy to tell people that you did nothing nasty or paedophilic to me, unless you did and while I'd not be so happy about telling people I most certainly would. Besides I'm nearly nineteen, so that problem isn't a problem really, unless Betty gets involved."

She thought some more, then said, "I know we need to talk too, but I don't know what about either, I think it's something to do with the magic, or whatever it is, but I don't know exactly."

"While we're trying to work out why I'm here," she continued. "May I have a look at those rings? I'd like to see if I can work out how you do that linking and unlinking stuff with them."

"Ok," I said, "it'll fill the time until supper arrives."

I picked up one ring and tossed it to her. She caught it with ease. I picked up a second one and threw that in her direction. As she caught that one, I felt something happen.

She held up the two rings which were linked together. "How did you do that?"

I knew I had done nothing, beyond throwing the rings towards her. I know how I link the Chinese Rings, but I need to be in contact with them for it to happen, so I knew it was not me. The only other person it could be was Kelly, but, unless she was an actress of Oscar-worthy standard, which I doubted, she was genuinely surprised to find the rings linked. I know from experience that the linking rings takes some concentration to do magically, which is why I mingle an illusionist's 'tricky ring' with the other rings, to reduce the magical effort and put off skilled observers from noticing that some of the act is achieved with magic not just tricks.

I had to conclude that Kelly was some kind of magical natural, and did not know what she had done. The two rings in her hands had been solid and separate when I had thrown them; after all there is no point is handing over the 'tricky ring' and risk its secret being discovered.

"I think you did that," I said. "They were solid and in no way linked when they left my hands, and much as I'd like to be able to, once they leave my hands I have no influence over them at all. Would you like another ring to play with for the next couple of minutes? Because I think I heard the kitchen door."

She nodded.

I picked up the next solid ring and threw it to her. I threw it with a lot of back-spin, in the hope that this would somehow reveal to me how Kelly had, seemingly effortlessly, linked the previous two rings. Unfortunately, imparting the back-spin was to the detriment of my aim, and instead of arriving in front of her body, where she could link the rings, if that's what was going to happen, the ring bounce off the arm of the chair and landed around Kelly's neck. Again I felt something happen, but was at a loss to know exactly what.

I was shocked, but she seemed just surprised. The main reason for my shock was that these particular rings were smaller than the standard rings I use on stage (the stage ones are twelve inches across, but these are a little under eight inches across) and as such should not fit over anyone's head, and in this case the ring seemed to have passed through her neck.

Kelly dropped the two rings in her hands and they rolled off her lap as a linked pair and rolled away as separate rings upon hitting the floor. She reached up to remove the ring from her neck only to find that with a bit of fiddling she could get it over her chin, but not past her nose. She allowed it to fall back down to round her neck.

She seemed to be about to comment on the situation, but there was a knock at the door and Mrs Phipps came in bearing two covered plates on a tray. As she placed the tray on the coffee table, I just about had enough presence of mind to thank her and ask that she let us know when Kelly's room was ready. My mind was reeling from the fact that a solid steel ring as part of a failed throw attempt seemed to have passed through Kelly's neck with no harm to the neck or the ring. I needed to know what was going on.

Mrs Phipps looked at both of us suspiciously, but could find nothing to complain about. She withdrew. I do not think she noticed Kelly's 'too small to be there' solid metal collar.

"Shall we eat? I guess you're hungry and I haven't eaten properly since breakfast."

Kelly untucked her legs and stood. She approached the tray, lifting the lid of the nearest plate. "I think that's yours," she said replacing the lid and taking the other plate and a set of napkin-wrapped cutlery.

I rose to go to the remaining plate and cutlery. I sat cross-legged at the coffee table and discarded the lid on the plate. As we ate in silence, I tried to work out what was going on with Kelly and between us. I finished the meal without really appreciating it.

I came to the conclusion that she was a powerfully and naturally magical person and as the first (and probably only) magical person of experience to encounter her, she had formed a kind of psychic bond with me. This left me in a problematic position, while explaining how she had been so easy to levitate when I first met her.

I returned to the bed.

"I think I know why you are here," I announced. "Do you have any idea, why you are here?"

She gave the matter some thought. Shaking her head, she said, "Other than you were nice to me, when we first met, and seemed to get me. That and the magic you did to me was so nice; I don't know. But I know it must be important to me deep-down, because I can't imagine travelling quite so far and spending quite so much money, just to see someone I barely know anything about after meeting them once, not matter how nice it was."

"I'm glad you're not in the habit of chasing people across the country on a whim. What I am about to tell you is good news from one point of view and bad news from another." I gave her a moment to digest the portentous nature of the information I had to impart.

She got up and placed her empty plate on the tray and returning to the chair; she knelt in it giving her a heightened appearance of paying attention. "I still don't know what you've got to tell me, but you think it's serious."

"Yes, it's serious; very serious. And it'll change your life; whether for better or worse is up to you, but I'd like to help it be more on the positive side."

"Ok, but what is it?"

It occurred to me that despite the thought having been wandering round my mind for the last few minutes, she had not been able to pick it up. I needed to tell her. "I think you are a magical person."

"That's nice of you to say, but it hardly explains several hundred miles by bus does it?"

"I guess that did not get received the way I meant it. I meant you are a person who has magic in them and I'm guessing there's quite a lot of it. You're a sort of magician, but you are untrained."

"That sounds like it might be a good thing, but you seem worried by it. What's to worry about?"

"All sorts of things, mostly to do with you having no magical training." I wracked my mind for an example that might be easily understood. "I assume you have not been taught to drive." She nodded, but her face told me she wondered where I was going with this. I felt a push in my mind as if she was trying to use her connection to me to find out. "Would you going driving?"

"Not just because I wanted to, that would be dangerous; but if it was an emergency I would if I had to; I once got shown the basics of driving a car, but I've never tried since, so I wouldn't much good."

"Now think of your magic as a top of the range sports car or a really big lorry and yourself as someone who does not know how to drive. You would not only endanger yourself if you did not get some training, but quite likely you'd kill or injure many more before you learnt enough control."

"So, tell me if I've understood this right. You think I'm a magician with a lot of power and you're offering to train me, because I might be a danger to myself and others if I am not trained."

"Yes, mostly." She screwed up her face in puzzlement at that comment. "You have a lot of magic in you and seem to be doing magic on instinct. For instance, you linked the first two rings I threw, but you did not intend to, and the third ring, I don't know how it ended up round you neck, but I suspect that when it bounced wrong and headed for your neck you allowed it to pass through. That's something I don't know how to do even if I have the ring in my hand. But the important thing is that I will be training you. This is not an offer this is what's going to happen, because until you are trained and can disconnect yourself from my mind, I won't feel totally safe."

"Do you think I would hurt you?" she asked; I could feel a very bewildering mix of sentiments behind the question.

"I don't think you would deliberately hurt me, but without training, with the amount of power you seem to have and you have formed some kind of psychic attachment to me, there is the possibility that you may hurt me accidentally or because I said or did something you didn't like. This worries me; I don't know you well enough to be sure of avoiding making you annoyed or angry; and what you could do with the untrained, possibly uncontrolled, power and ability is something I don't want to be on the receiving end of."

She looked a little scared by the prospect that she might be able to harm anyone, particularly someone she thought she liked. I was trying not to act like a cat in a pen with a dozen large dogs.

I had to continue. "I don't know how much power you have."

I felt her querying my mind about how much power she might have. "You might only have the ability to manipulate small objects, but you might be able to turn this place into a hole in the ground."

I tried to imagine the guest house becoming a crater, but I think she saw though that and read my initial image of the entire city turned into a smoking ruin.

"I'm not sure how much control you will have over that power, but it is my duty to train you to have as much control as you can manage so that you can live safely, without the fear of doing something that you and many others will regret."

"Ok, I think. When can we start?" she asked. She leaned down and picked up the steel rings. She tapped them together, but became irritated when they did not link. "Why won't they link like they did before?"

"I can't do much training at the moment, because I'm touring and have little time enough to eat and sleep; if we weren't in town tomorrow night, I would be driving to the next venue. I can show you a bit of what magic can do and we can work out how to arrange your training once the tour is done in three weeks. I'll have to talk to Doctor Paston to offer to train you in something, so you can be away from the home, but that should not be a problem, as I can be quite persuasive."

"And she can be very stubborn," responded Kelly, crashing the rings together in frustration and looking astounded when they were suddenly linked. Her mission of the moment changed to attempting to unlink them again, with a similar lack of joy.

"I guess, I'll tell her that I'm offering you some kind of apprenticeship or work experience, we'll have to discuss that when we're less tired."

"That sounds like the kind of thing she'd approve of," commented Kelly, giving me the impression that she did not want to do that; being approved of by Dr Paston was not any part of her goals in life, even before I had told she potentially had the power, if not the skill, to level the home completely.

"The alternative, not getting Betty's approval, would cause more trouble and delay to you getting trained, and being able to link and unlink the rings when you wanted. At the moment, your magic is running on reflexes and not under your conscious control." In an attempt to distract her, I asked her, "What did you think of the show?"

I felt that I had asked the stupidest question ever; she was projecting that she was struggling to scrape together the bus fares to come and see me and shoplifting to feed herself, so she could not afford a ticket to see the show; I also realised that if Kelly had been in the audience I would have known it and I had not sensed her there.

"How about I arrange for you to see the show tomorrow?"

"Yeah, that would be nice, but I can't afford it."

"No problem, I always get a couple of complimentary tickets for each night. I usually give them to theatre reviewers from the next city, so that they'll write something nice and encourage better audiences when I get there; but I can give you one, if you'd like."

"And what do I do for the rest of the day?"

"What would you normally do?" I asked.

"I'd find a museum or a library. They are usual warmish and quiet; I like libraries best, because I can read the books; some of them are very interesting. And when I get hungry, I go to a supermarket and get something to eat. Do you think that the magic has anything to do with me never getting caught?"

"Well, it could. So tomorrow, after breakfast, I'll take you into the city centre. I think the library is not that far from the theatre, but then you'll have to amuse yourself for the morning, because I have an appointment with a local TV camera crew in the morning. I'll take you to lunch, you can meet Judy and Ferrera." In answer to her blank look, I added, "they are my lead assistants."

There was a knock at the door and Mrs Phipps leant round the door. "The young lady's room is ready."

I get up and said, "That's great. Thank you, Mrs Phipps." I tidied the plates onto the tray and put them where she could easily take them away, this covered Kelly's reluctance to get up from the chair. "I think we've talked as much as we usefully can, for the moment. I know we both need a good night's sleep to think about it and have some more discussion tomorrow."

Kelly offered to carry the tray, but Mrs Phipps took it and perched in an alcove in the corridor. She led the way to up a floor and to the other side of the house. I got the impression that if either of us went wandering in the night, Mrs Phipps would know and disapprove. The room that had been prepared for Kelly was similarly plain and had the elementary toilet facilities in what looked like a walk-in wardrobe; it looked like I would be paying for two en-suites tonight.

Mrs Phipps gave a brisk tour of the facilities and told Kelly that breakfast was between seven and eight-thirty. She also pointed out the nightdress she had laid on the bed, saying, "It might not be what you'd usually wear, but at least you'll be decent if someone sets off the fire alarms tonight." She left.

I left shortly after, wishing Kelly a good night and saying that I would meet her in the morning for breakfast.