Chapter 131

Gauging the adversary

Chapter 131

Were they making more of an effort because Anna was Seton's gal, Gris wondered. He guessed it was so and he also guessed that it was only natural. People in other jobs did the same. However, the Commissioner would not have that consideration. He asked him about it.

The Commissioner shrugged. "I'm patriotic, but not ridiculously so, no. The family never appealed to me much, but I've revised my opinion. Anna's not always the helpless and innocent victim of circumstances we think she is, is she?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems to me that she had a say in pretty much everything that happened to her. The lot of you didn't take her with you without her consent, right? She made the move on Seton, didn't she? He didn't strike me as the type who would stick out his neck during a case, at the risk of ruining everything. Imagine him approaching her and her turning him down. Where would you have been as a group? Seton would have realised the dangers in that. No, it wasn't him. It was her. He welcomed it, of course, but she was the one who initiated it. Am I right?"

"I wasn't there when it happened," Gris said diplomatically. He thought about the image of Anna as a temptress and it did not seem right. "But I know that Anna would never have slept with him if she hadn't wanted his child, even if Hegge thinks they were just stupid, which says a whole lot more about Hegge, if you ask me. Hegge would like to sleep with as many people as possible without having children, whereas Anna just wants as many children as possible without -- I mean, with one person."

"I can't believe what extracurricular activities you were all up to during the kidnapping," the Commissioner sighed. "The workload is obviously too low in your service, considering that you have time to evaluate and analyse each other's love life. Or even have one during working hours! Isn't that forbidden? I know I don't accept it from my officers."

"Umm well…" Gris said. "We've never had the problem before -- I don't know."

"But what a grave judgmental error to assign the kidnapping to four young bachelors of a desperate age! That's one of the unwritten rules in the book -- don't assign cases involving pretty girls to bachelors. What were they thinking?" the Commissioner expressed his incomprehension. "That's what Malling said -- he guessed that Thalen didn't consider the Queen to be in any danger, because she's the Queen. When it's a known fact that women are dangerous."

"Do you hate women?" Gris asked with interest.

"Oh, no. I've recently dealt with two cases that were messed up by men who were enthralled by some female suspect and you shouldn't increase the chances of something happening. Sometimes you can't avoid it, but it would have been wiser to assign the case to some older men." Men who would not spend their time taking bets on romantic developments between their colleague and their charge. It was a bit juvenile.

"You'd better keep your male officers apart from your female ones and don't let them form teams together, then," Gris said sarcastically. "But Commissioner, you're thinking much too simply. You could lock me up with a hundred women and I might not fall for any of them. You could have locked Anna up with a hundred men of various ages and she might have fallen for an older one. There's no predicting it. One would have predicted Hegge to go after her and he didn't." Instead, Hegge had gone very unsuccessfully after Nathalie, but that was another case, one which Hegge did not like to be reminded of, since he was usually successful.

"I'm only trying to make sense of it. Did Thalen want to get rid of your team or compromise it?" That might be an explanation.

Gris frowned. "Do you mean by setting us up?"

"Yes."

"Well, I don't think we're any worse than the other units. Maybe Seton is a bit more troublesome. He was completely opposed to the exercise. Called it a pointless waste of time and money. But we hadn't had anything interesting to do for a while, so we convinced him not to call in sick and I think he'll be grateful for that now. Still, I don't think anyone assigned it to us with the intention of getting rid of us especially. They could have done that more gracefully by assigning us only paperwork."

The Commissioner's beeper went off and they returned to his mobile control centre. He picked up the radio receiver. "Yes?"

"We found something," a voice crackled over the radio.

The police officer stood looking at the car. He had had the number plates checked and they were registered to Keller's housekeeper's husband. That was significant enough to inform his superiors, who had informed the Commissioner. They were now waiting for everyone to arrive so they could see it for themselves.

Mrs. Seton was walking the dog when Eliane got out of a car and joined her. "I must talk to you. Has your son talked to you yet?" Eliane asked hurriedly.

"About what?" She wondered which son, since both were involved with daughters of Eliane.

"Well, Anna wants to get married on Thursday."

Then it would have been John who was supposed to have spoken to his mother, but he had not. She guessed he had been too busy with Anna over the weekend to give any thoughts to his parents. He had told her that Anna was staying with him, which she had found rather odd for a queen, but Thomas had only shrugged, told her it was better than having the two of them go to a hotel, and continued working on the rabbit hutch he was making. She had told him not to be daft, for his comments and the fact that he was making a rabbit hutch when nobody they knew had rabbits, to which he had replied that nobody had anything to put them in, so it was no wonder that nobody had them. "Thursday!" It was Monday.

"Are you free?" Eliane asked, fearing that she would not be, so that the wedding would have to be postponed till a later date. And both sets of parents would want to be there.

"I'm free, but…" Mrs. Seton looked astonished. "So soon?" She had privately been expecting a wedding in perhaps two weeks, but not before. How was she going to drag Thomas away from his rabbit hutch? "Can it be arranged at such short notice?"

"I will -- we will do that, if you want."

She did not know how to arrange a wedding, but perhaps Eliane did if she sounded so confident. Another problem occurred to her. "Is she allowed to get married?"

"Oh, you will see on the news, I think, that she's abdicating. Today or tomorrow."

"Why so suddenly?" Mrs. Seton understood very little of it, but realised that she still was not free from being a queen's mother-in-law. It would only shift from Anna to Marie-Celeste, unless Patrick decided that he did not like Marie-Celeste so much after all. She was not going to interfere in that as long they did nothing stupid.

"Impatience," Eliane shrugged. "Young people." But then she thought of Eduard's impatience and she smiled. "Umm…it runs in the family. Her father's side, they are very impatient. They think, why should I wait if I can have it now? Because they are always afraid that something will come between it, with good reason, I must say. Sometimes it does." Something had come between them.

"I take it that her father supports the idea then," Mrs. Seton said perceptively. She had been acquainted with their history and what had come between them.

"Oh, yes. He even says we should do a dress-rehearsal the day before."

"Eliane, my dear," Mrs. Seton said solemnly. "I feel like laughing very hard for some reason. May I?" A dress rehearsal? For an improvised wedding?

Eliane looked puzzled. "Why?"

"I think your family are an odd bunch. Can't you do anything the normal way?" This would be a bizarre wedding.

"They're not my family. My family is very normal." Eliane wondered if she should invite them, but that would perhaps be too many people and what excuse could they have to come to Eduard's birthday?

"They're French, aren't they? Don't let Thomas hear you say that the French are normal," Mrs. Seton chuckled. "He'll love the family connection, I'm sure," she said dryly, but then remembered that Thomas himself could be rather eccentric as well. She supposed that meant she was used to eccentricity already, or she would not have stayed married to him for so long. She chuckled again.

Eliane looked puzzled again. "I think one of us is odd too, because I can't follow you, Rina."

"Oh, it's me," her companion admitted immediately. "Actually, it's my husband. He's building something for rabbits. He's sixty-one. Do you think he's losing his mind already?"

Eliane looked at her in concern. "I hope not. I'm nearly sixty-one and --" She did not want to go senile at that age already. But she did not understand why building something for rabbits implied senility.

Mrs. Seton looked at her in surprise. "I thought you had a few years to go before you reached that." She certainly looked as though she had.

"Well, fifty-three. The one time I saw your husband he wasn't losing his mind. But he's English, non? The English are all very...er…well, they live on an island," she explained, hoping she had not offended, even though this was a fellow continental person she was addressing. The French and the English had never got along famously and eyed each other with a wary distrust. Other Europeans had to be seeing them like that as well and her mother-in-law sprang to mind, with her spy theories. "Where did you meet him?"

"Why, a tennis tournament of course," Mrs. Seton laughed. "He kept running into me all the time, but he never said a word until one day he came up to me and said: 'I need your name because we're going to play doubles.' So I asked him why I should and then he said: 'so you can do the talking when we win.' I told him I might not like to play with such an idiot and he asked if I would pass up my only chance at winning. I couldn't," she smiled apologetically. "I mean, I couldn't let him go, because I knew he wasn't going to have the nerve to ask me again. He was very attractive too, of course, though I had always thought he was arrogant."

The immediate surroundings of the car were searched for clues in ever widening circles. No clues had yet been found when a police officer stumbled on a trail of footprints leading away from them. Assistance was called and the footprints were examined. It was concluded that they had been made by a man, possibly the driver of the car, and a group of policemen followed the trail until it ended at the edge of a patch of grass. Nothing was visible on the grass and the search circles began again. The trail was picked up again at some point and they pursued it once more until they came to a house. Nobody answered the door, while the footprints clearly went inside and the back door had clearly been forced. Reinforcements and higher-ranking policemen arrived and a party was sent in, the higher ranks staying outside in case there was an armed lunatic in the house. Soon, an officer came out. "We found him," he announced.

Chapter 132

Anna's decision to abdicate had not leaked out yet and the news bulletins concentrated mainly on the fact that the ex-Prime Minister had been found dead in a house. The circumstances and other particulars had not yet been revealed and it was mainly speculation and conjecture.

The Palace, when contacted by the first newspaper, promised to call back with a reaction and kept the phone off the hook to avoid being plagued by all the other news hounds. The Information Service kept Anna's decree in mind, that nothing could be said without her personal approval, and it took them a while to crosscheck where she was. Because it was bad manners to keep a mobile phone switched on during a lunch, they could not get through to her and they had to resort to sending a chap over to inform her of the bad -- or good, depending on one's point of view -- tidings and to ask her for a reaction.

Anna did not like being disturbed during a formal lunch, because it drew so much attention to herself and she wished Eduard had come with her. He usually did and he always took care to deal with such interruptions in a way that caused her the least trouble, only allowing her to be disturbed if it was really necessary. However, she had to admit that it was her own fault that he was not here, since he was doing things for her concerning her marriage and her abdication.

She agreed to step aside with the messenger and he told her what the problem was. The news relieved her so that she almost began to cry and she turned her head away from the table, from where she was sure people were staring at her in curiosity. After drawing a few deep breaths she was able to ask the messenger if it was really necessary that the Palace gave out a reaction. She would rather not be hypocritical and yet nothing else would be acceptable. The messenger had experience with the death of a nasty aunt and the fact that they had had to make a decent obituary for her, and he suggested that she extend her sympathies to Keller's next of kin. Anna looked at him gratefully, but she was certainly not prepared to attend his funeral and she told the man so. He looked reflective and suggested that in cases of suspected suicide -- it was not yet clear how he had died -- the family took care of funerals privately. If they were not going to, they would discreetly be pressed to do it privately anyway. Anna nodded. She could live with that arrangement.

She returned to the table in a thoughtful state of mind, brushing off any overt and indirect queries about the interruption. It was none of their business and they would all hear of the outcome later. It was not an unpleasant lunch -- the other guests had interesting stories to tell and she wondered if she had suddenly become more interested or other people more interesting. However, she could not help thinking about what sort of reaction she should be displaying in public now and she paid a little less attention to the people around her. Could she really get married on Thursday? Actually, she did not see why not. She had planned it before this happened.

Eliane accompanied Rina to her house. They went in through the back gate and passed the shed from where came sounds of hammering. Rina could not keep herself from informing her husband that their eldest son was getting married on Thursday. "And you're coming with me," she added, in case he did not understand that his presence was required.

Mr. Seton stood up and glanced at the result of his work thoughtfully, not giving an answer. He walked around it once and then looked at the two ladies. "Are you sure they want us to come if we don't even hear the news from the children themselves?" Although he could not imagine John coming here to tell them he was getting married. He would not do that himself either. But John would get the news across some other way and he had not done so. Or was this that other way?

Eliane stared at the wooden structure and wondered why Rina had called it a rabbit hutch. It was very obviously something else.

"Well, Thomas," said his wife. "You know what he's like. He doesn't like to be explicit, you know that. That doesn't mean he doesn't want us to be there. He'd never have introduced her to us if that were so."

He recalled that introduction. There had indeed been no need for an explanation in words, at least not for him. "Oh, all right," he grumbled good-naturedly. "Thursday, you say? I haven't heard it on the radio yet. Does that mean it won't be televised?"

"Not unless someone makes one of those dreadful home videos," said Eliane. "And can you keep Wednesday free as well? We have to do a dress-rehearsal."

"Oh, right. Why do we have to rehearse anything?"

"We must make sure it all looks nice and we must play the couple and the witnesses. They must have a nice day on Thursday."

"Who will be the witnesses?" he asked. "Patrick, I assume."

"Anna did not tell Eduard that," Eliane realised. "But I don't think it matters," she said hopefully. "All they have to do is sign."

"Whom are we rehearsing for then?" Mr. Seton wondered who Eduard was, but then he remembered that his wife had told him that he was Anna's father.

"The Mayor and the couple -- see if Anna can change upstairs and not fall down the stairs with her dress on and so on, but Anna can't be there on Wednesday, otherwise John will see her in the dress and it won't be as nice on Thursday. So I think I will have to play Anna."

Mr. Seton nodded at his wooden structure. There was something fishy about widows playing brides, but it did not concern him, really. He was a tolerant man and Eliane was a nice enough lady who would not annoy him at family occasions. And he could take a day off from working in his shed. The ladies went inside for a cup of tea, but not before Eliane had asked him if he needed textile for the house. He had regarded her in surprise, being used to his wife who could no longer recognise a table as such if it was merely overturned. "In two years perhaps," he answered. It was a long-term project anyway.

"I don't see how Rina can't see it's not for rabbits."

"Rina is…" he paused and grinned suddenly with evident affection. "I'm glad she doesn't. It makes life more fun if I can fool her." And she liked to be fooled.

"I heard that," Rina stuck her head around the door. "What's it for then?" she eyed it suspiciously.

"What do you call them -- guinea pigs."

"Eliane, come," Mrs. Seton pulled her away. "Leave him alone. I hate him. Don't ever get married again. It's awful." A dirty rag hit her in the head as she was about to leave and she threw it back with less success.

Eliane stared at her in wonder. She did not know if she could take them seriously. "But he doesn't hate you."

Rina sighed. Was Eliane really taking them seriously? Perhaps she had a different kind of humour. "Please, Eliane. Don't listen to us."

John appeared when his mother had made tea. "You might have told us you were getting married," she said accusingly.

"Oh, but I'm odd, it seems. No, I was going to tell you right now. I swear. Read this." He handed her a sheet of paper. "This person came to bother me at the stadium, asking me if I'd approve of this piece. Apparently she interviewed Anna yesterday, but Anna is more difficult to approach for approval than I am. I found out that there are loads of people secretly watching me as I train, but fortunately they don't all want to talk to me. I told her I'd let my mother read it," he grinned.

She was taller and thinner than I'd thought. Her tight, short black dress was a becoming mix of the feminine and the athletic and she obviously attached a great importance to physical fitness. Her handshake was firm and her voice was soft when she greeted me. And she was very pretty. These first impressions were all very different from what I'd been expecting, based on how Queen Anna had been portrayed in the press lately.

I had been expressly forbidden to talk about her relationship, for reasons unclear to me, because she obviously didn't hide it. I'd had to hand in a list of rather bland questions beforehand and stick to it. I was a bit afraid that our conversation would be an oral exam of sorts, with her rattling off answers that she had memorised in advance. "I can't lie, you see," she apologised when I expressed my fears and she clutched the big silver heart that was hanging from a chain around her neck. "It's done to protect me from myself."

I wasn't prepared for such honesty and I decided to test our boundaries by asking if they were afraid she would say too much. "I never used to say anything, because there was nothing to say, I though. I thought I wasn't interesting. I still don't really think I am, but the public seems to be interested in all those things that I don't find particularly interesting at all."

She sounded genuinely puzzled and modest, seemingly unaware that she's the youngest, most modern and most beautiful queen of today. "My mother is far more beautiful," she said, shaking her head and blushing charmingly. "Her face's got character -- experience. I haven't seen anything yet. Younger people aren't as beautiful."

The list of fixed questions seemed forgotten and it seemed quite alright to just have a chat about something entirely different. It probably hadn't been her who had come up with the idea of a fixed set of questions. I was curious if she also preferred older men then. Her lover wasn't that old, thirty-four, and good-looking. "I don't like beautiful men," Anna said earnestly, explaining herself when she saw that I looked incredulous. "Well, not the beautiful men -- those who are declared beautiful by the general populace. I like intelligent men. They have to be intelligent to be beautiful. I don't like empty prettiness. I want substance."

She almost dared not say it, as if it was arrogant to want substance. "It's true that substance is rare and it takes quite a few years to define what sort of substance you want. It's a process of selection."

It all sounded very rational and she laughed at some private memory. "Rational? Uhh no. I don't think so."

We weren't allowed to talk about her relationship, but we were coming darned close to it. "Well, queens are supposed to be rational beings and I'm not the emotional type, but if you ever want to get anywhere, you're going to have to allow yourself some irrationality. Even though there's your rationality screaming at you, asking you what you're doing. But sometimes you should just ignore that."

Again there was a flash of that private smile. I was feeling that even after talking to her for hours you'd still not know her. Wouldn't her theory imply that she needed a fiercely irrational man to draw her out? She pondered the thought and began to draw something. "I like theorising. It's an interesting thought -- do opposites attract? -- but theories don't fit where people are concerned. You could like what is different or you could like what is similar. I'd become very annoyed with a fiercely irrational man." She pointed at the incomprehensible drawing. "For instance, he wouldn't be able to understand my little drawings."

If Seton understood her completely he was a very clever man, because she came across as if she was perpetually thinking about three theories at once. Talking to someone who doesn't give you her full attention is rather baffling. You're never sure if she's heard you or if she's thinking about your question or about something entirely different. But she's no puppet on a string as is sometimes written. She definitely pulls her own strings, even though she might be pulling three of them at once.

And as I was leaving, I saw him in the portrait gallery. He asked me for a pen to calculate the average reign of earlier monarchs and I burst out laughing. So much for my secret desire that he would be fiercely irrational. But he obviously thought I was…

Chapter 133

The mothers extended their approval to the piece on Anna and John got his mother to phone back to say it was alright. "I don't know why I let you get away with this," she scolded him playfully after she had called. "Why did I ever feed you so much? It wasn't my intention to make you so tall that I can't give you a kiss anymore. I haven't seen you in days! Is she really that much more interesting than your mother? Eliane would say so, wouldn't you? Well, alright. I forgive you, but only because she's Eliane's daughter. But really, dear. You could have called me in the middle of the night about that marriage."

"Mum…" John tried to stop his mother from rambling. "Can you let go of me?" He was feeling a bit embarrassed.

"No, I'm becoming very sentimental. My little boy's getting married."

John cringed. "Mum…you can still hug me after I'm married. I'm sure Anna doesn't have any problems with it."

"Tsk. You don't understand anything about it." Mrs. Seton looked at Eliane, who nodded. "See, Eliane understands me."

The wedding was sure to be a crying fest, in that case, John thought in horror. "Don't tell me you're all going to cry on Thursday just because I'm signing a document?"

His mother clicked her tongue. Her little boy had inherited a great deal of his father's oddities. "Now you go and commiserate with your father about that. He's in the shed."

John quickly went to the shed. He observed the wooden structure and wondered what it was. It looked like a house, a very small one.

"Your mother-in-law knew what it was," said Mr. Seton with satisfaction. "And that for a Frenchwoman. But your mother didn't."

John seated himself on the workbench. "Dad…"

Mr. Seton gave him one glance and deduced that he was in for a man-to-man talk. "Yes?"

"I'm afraid that all those women are going to cry on Thursday."

"Hmm…" said his father, thinking of an answer. The possibility had occurred to him as well and he saw the problem. "Yes. Well. I've had my share of crying women -- woman. Yes. Your mother is bound to cry if she's within thirty feet of either an onion or a romantic scene." He stubbornly refused to switch to the metric system if he referred to distances, to his wife's great annoyance, because she only knew distances in metres and centimetres. "Then don't make it romantic."

"But she's already beginning to hug me today," John protested.

"You should have sent her here if you didn't like it, son," his father replied stoically.

John looked as if that idea would never have occurred to him. "Dad! I thought you'd lend me some support. I thought you were with me on this, about not liking this excessive hugging --"

"How do you think you came into being?"

"-- in front of other people and saying her little boy's getting married," John continued, looking flustered. He had never really thought about how he had come into being. One did not do that.

"Ahh…in front of other people. That changes the matter," Mr. Seton nodded. "I'm not very partial to that either. In front of whom?"

"Eliane."

"Oh, but she's French. They're all more of the huggy kind and she won't think it strange at all. She might even hug you herself. But cheer up, John. She doesn't seem to be the crying kind and what do you care if everyone is in tears? You're not supposed to pay attention to anything other than your wife."

"Oh."

"You're not going to have any problems with that."

"Oh."

"Trust me."

"Oh."

"And if your mother misbehaves again…" Mr. Seton looked reflective. "Send her here and don't come with her."

"Oh. What are you building?" John asked, to change the subject.

"A playhouse. You saw that, didn't you?" he asked expectantly.

John was glad he had indeed seen it. He would not have liked to disappoint his father. "Yes. It's that thing you promised us but you never had time for."

"I hope I didn't give you a trauma." His wife had insisted on watching a talk show one day and he had picked up some things from it.

"No, that's alright." John was phoned shortly afterwards by Eduard, who inquired after his ring size. "Ring size?" John exclaimed. "Don't have one." He was told to try his father's wedding ring, but for that he was referred back inside, because it was in a box somewhere. There was no size on it and Eliane offered to take it to Eduard for a comparison, because it fit John as well. Since Mr. Seton never wore it, his wife did not mind lending it out.

John heard the news about Keller a little after that, from Raine, but he had not been able to get through to Anna to tell her. He recalled that she had a lunch to attend. Undoubtedly she would be told. Maybe she would even be told more than Raine could tell him, because Raine suddenly seemed to be bound to secrecy. It was not surprising, considering that John was a normal civilian, but he had still hoped that he might be told more. All, if possible. But Raine had said they did not know everything yet. He did not know whether this was true. It did not matter, actually. Keller was dead.

Eliane carried Mr. Seton's wedding ring to Eduard, who was in his office at the Palace. He turned the gold band over in his hand. "I suppose we're going to have to get four of these," he said.

"Four?" Eliane wondered. Was he serious? Could he still be meaning it? She looked at him searchingly.

"In case we lose them before Thursday," he explained. "Or if the size of their fingers changes. I'll take care of it." He took her hand and took off one of her rings as he kissed her fingers. She was looking delightfully uncertain and puzzled. "Alex gave me one of Anna's."

"Mmm," said Eliane, because that was all she was capable of. She sat down on the edge of his desk, with her back to his secretary who would undoubtedly be trying to peek in. Would the secretary find this strange? Why could she not be sitting on Eduard's desk? Yes, she was practically with her knees against his chest, but it was a good deal more decent that where she would like to be sitting. She stood up briskly and paced the room.

"What about the gown?" Eduard asked, looking amused. If she married him, she would not have to be so incredibly proper as to keep in mind where she was and who might be looking in to see the Queen Mother sit on a desk. Worse, to see her sit on a desk with somebody's hand on her leg. Perhaps he was biased, but he could only see advantages in their union, no disadvantages. Nobody was going to tell him on which parts of his wife he could put his hands, or rather, he was not going to accept any interference in that. Except from her and from his sense of propriety, but in case he should want to ignore the latter, he wanted to be free to do so. Not that he would ever really become improper, but it was the principle that counted.

Eliane waved her hand to cool her face. "Mmm, well…they ordered a dress on the internet."

Eduard looked disgusted, but then modified his expression. Anna and John were…Anna and John. Anna was notoriously anti-shopping and John was too, probably. Most men were. Surely John would not agree to some cheap, ugly dress? But it sounded as if they had ordered it together. In that case John would be happy with the choice. Who was he to comment on it?

"I have my old one…I wouldn't do the rehearsal in Anna's dress…but mine has been worn," Eliane said. It had been worn so many years ago that she had no idea if she still fit into it. She could not remember if she had been thinner then and she could not remember how the gown had fit, not having tried it on anymore. Alexandra had been the last one to wear it and that was four years ago, although Alex would not want to be reminded of the fact that she liked to dress up in pretty gowns to parade in front of the mirror.

"I don't really care if it was used to marry another man." Eduard had looked up a few pictures only this morning that had left him with a rather high heart rate. He had thought he would be over that at his age, but apparently not.

Eliane smiled. "Good. What about the license?"

"I got that. Marc was very curious, but I finally got it. He said he wasn't supposed to do mock weddings, so I said to make it a real one then, because it was important for Anna that we rehearsed and nobody would notice if you and I were truly married or not, since we already have the same last name."

"Ahh…and he accepted that?"

"Oh yes, after I'd threatened to have Anna marry in another village, he did. He wouldn't like to miss the opportunity, you know."

"Is he a bit simple, or what?" Eliane asked doubtfully. "You used your diplomatic talking on him, didn't you?"

Eduard grinned. "Well, of course."

She bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "Are you going to use it on the grannies?" They had not considered the rest of the family yet and the old ladies were going to be furious if it turned out that they had been kept out of this.

"Ooo…"

"Yes, ooo." Eliane crossed her arms. "I don't know what they're going to say about us."

Eduard coughed. Having witnessed the scenes with regard to Charles-Louis, he had a pretty good idea. "Perhaps we should get it over with right away." They might still be in a good mood from seeing little Larissa. He ought to thank William and Isabelle for having braved the Council to show off their grandchild and their son-in-law. He knew Isabelle was delighted with the baby, because her main disappointment had been that Charles-Louis would never give her a grandchild. Charles-Louis had first approached Eduard with the idea of adoption, not sure if it was possible and what his parents would think. Eduard knew what they would think, because his cousin had often confided in him, and he had reassured Charles-Louis about it.

"Right away?" Eliane looked alarmed.

"Yes." He pushed back his chair and began to walk towards the door.

Eliane followed him. "And what will you say?"

He walked with his hands in his pockets, so they could not do anything they should not do. "I'm not sure yet." He knew where to find the Council. They had a special sitting room they gathered in, where they drank tea all day and received friends and gossiped. On set days they played bingo, of which one round took nearly all day, because all numbers had to be called off at least ten times. A woman in a wheelchair was just being wheeled out by a young woman who looked like a nurse. "Morning, Baroness."

The Baroness gave him and Eliane a curious look and sensed there was new gossip to be had inside. "Karin, I think I forgot my gloves."

"No, madam," said the nurse, who did not understand. "I have them here. We're late for your appointment with Doctor Henri."

Doctor Henri, normally a great favourite with the Baroness, was not as appealing now, and the Baroness scowled. "I don't care about Doctor Henri."

"Oh, but Doctor Henri cares about you, madam."

Eduard smiled at Eliane and let her enter first. That was one difficult party removed. He knew about the Baroness, Doctor Henri and the various intelligence lines that ran from him to the biggest gossips in town. People learned more from sitting in Doctor Henri's practise for half an hour than from any tabloid and that was what most patients came for, not his skills. Charles-Louis had done his internship there and come home with some impressive stories. He had only stayed there for a month, because there were not really any cases that were interesting in a professional way.

"Eliane, how good of you to visit," said Celeste. "And Eduard. Come and give me a kiss, dear." Her voice sounded much friendlier when she talked to him. "I heard you were here during the weekend."

"Yes, I was," said Eduard, dutifully making the round to kiss his elderly relatives. Eliane had sat down already.

"And not at your lovely little château."

"Well, I was at my lovely little --" he was interrupted when Eliane started coughing violently. Alright, so perhaps he should not be that direct, but his mood was set now, thanks to Aunt Celeste. Was Eliane amused or shocked? A sly glance at her told him that she was amused. Damn, Eliane. Don't do that to me. You're going to make me misbehave. The combination of Aunt Celeste's unwitting remarks and Eliane's amusement were pushing him in a very undesirable direction.

"Well, that is what you get from wearing so few clothes in the winter," said Aunt Cornelia with a shake of her head.

Eduard had finished greeting them and he sat down next to Eliane. "Indeed," he studied Eliane's skirt critically. "It's rather short. It leaves all this --" he ran his hand indifferently down her leg, from the hem of her skirt to her ankle, "-- uncovered."

She turned blue in the face.

"Exactly, Eduard," Celeste nodded. "You tell her. She won't accept it from us."

He regarded Eliane with a serious expression. "And your tights can't be that warm." He tried to feel the fabric. "As I thought. No wonder you're coughing." He would like to cough himself as well, because he had expected a reaction from the old ladies and nothing had come.

Eliane choked. She bent her head and tried to get rid of the attack of hiccups. It sounded as if she was crying and the ladies probably thought she was.

"What would you advise, Aunt Celeste?" Eduard asked. "How long should the skirt be?"

"Over the knees, definitely."

"So…about here? Or lower?" Eduard indicated a spot below Eliane's knee.

"Lower."

"Here?" His hand was just above her ankle now and she was still hiding her face between her knees.

Celeste peered at it through her glasses and the other ladies did the same. "Absolutely. Right there. That is the only decent length."

"But Aunt Celeste, how about this?" Eduard said questioningly, pushing Eliane back in her seat. Her face was red. Poor girl. He snorted silently, because he was enjoying himself tremendously, even if he could barely believe what he was doing. He pulled up her skirt a few centimetres. "Like so?"

"Eduard!" his sister Sophia screamed in shock as if she had only just woken up. "What do you think you are doing?"

Chapter 134 (a)

"Why do you always have to spoil my fun, Sophia?" Eduard said with regret. "Trust you to interrupt me when I have my hand up a woman's thigh." He patted Eliane's leg. "Thanks so far, chérie."

The four older women looked incredibly shocked and for once Eliane thought that she and they might be thinking alike. She exhaled deeply. "Ce n'est rien," she mumbled.

"I beg your pardon?" Celeste cried.

"I am always at the family's disposition," Eliane replied dully. "To be used in case of need. As long as you are family. Eduard is family. 'E can put 'is 'ands wherever 'e likes." She thought he had been going to tell them that they were together, instead he was only trying to blow out what weak flame kept these old women going. Or perhaps he was only igniting it, she thought suspiciously as she looked at them.

The Council of the Witches looked as if this was the juiciest bit of news that had happened to them this week. "You're having an affair with Eduard!" Sophia blurted out, aghast. She was stunned and shocked by her brother. "How could you, Eduard?" She knew Celeste was going to be very upset now. She would be feeling this as betrayal. After all, it would be like cheating on Alexander.

"You got the message," Eduard said coolly. "That was all I wanted to tell you, really. I don't want to hear you abuse her. Come, Eliane." He pulled her up.

Eliane looked at Celeste. It was difficult to see what her mother-in-law was thinking, but she could guess. And Celeste would never accept it if she did not try to explain first. "I-I-I want to speak to Celeste alone," she said bravely.

"Leave us," Celeste commanded and the other three witches and Eduard left the room, to continue their questioning outside. "Yes?" she inquired.

"I'm sorry," said Eliane. She was genuinely sorry and she felt wretched.

"For what?" the older woman barked.

"F-F-For maybe m-m-making you think I -- well, you're his mother. You can't like this. I'm not doing this to hurt anyone."

"There was no need for this conversation," Celeste snapped.

Eliane shrank a little. Then why had she exposed herself so? Why had she given Celeste the opportunity to embarrass her? She should not have done this. She should not have cared if she was perhaps hurting someone who obviously did not care if she hurt her and she rubbed her eyes. "Well, I thought there was!" she retorted. There was nothing she could do right in Celeste's eyes and she cried.

"Eliane…"

Eliane turned defiantly.

"I appreciate your concern," it sounded grudgingly.

Nobody could be more surprised than Eliane and she did not know what to say. It was not like Celeste to say such a thing.

Celeste patted the sofa beside her. "Come and sit next to me."

Hesitantly, she walked over and sat down, allowing her mother-in-law to take her hand. What confidences awaited her now?

"We were never the best of friends, you and I," Celeste began. "Perhaps I should have approached you differently, but you were so reserved that everyone gave up on you. You clearly didn't want to make friends here. But I loved the girls and you did well with them, all by yourself."

Eliane raised her head sharply. She had not expected Alexander's mother to say that.

"Yes," Celeste chuckled bitterly. "I'm not blind to the faults of my son. You did the work and he got the glory. But I didn't see it right away. It took a while and then he died."

"Yes, then he died…" Eliane mumbled.

"And I realised some things."

"What were they?"

"That he hadn't been doing what he should have been doing," Celeste said calmly. "He didn't know the girls and he didn't have any deep interest in them. Oh, he could say proudly that they were his daughters and carry them on his back, but that's a useless sort of interest when they're growing up. He kept you out of the discussions about university, but I was there and Anna owes more to Eduard than to him. What could have been Eduard's interest, hmm?"

Eliane stared at her. Did she know? Had she known all along?

Celeste looked at her shrewdly. "I've often wondered why he returned and why he seemed to prefer Anna over Marie-Celeste, but I could never know for certain. You see, I don't see that Marie-Celeste is any less."

Was this a test? She would not fail, because all her daughters were equal. "Marie-Celeste is not less."

"No. Not to you and you didn't give anything away, but once I started wondering if he preferred Anna because she was more like him, it went fast. I know you used to be friends with him, but I had no idea that it had been more…and I couldn't ask…but is it true?"

Eliane nodded.

"You're lucky that I've got the week off," said Mrs. Seton to John when she had taken him to her workplace to pick up her mail and a thesis she was supervising. He waited patiently as his mother ran around talking to people, but studying the titles of the books that littered her room eventually became boring and he focused his eyes on the door. A student peered in and apologised in alarm when she noticed him. He wondered if he looked particularly scary.

Mrs. Seton returned and handed him a sheet. "Show this to Anna. I think she might qualify if she wants a job."

John studied the ad, but frankly he had no idea if Anna qualified. He did not exactly know what she had studied, but she had spoken with his mother about it, so his mother was probably correct. Would Anna want to? It was true that she was going to be unemployed in a few days. Another thought struck him. "Wouldn't it be nepotism?"

"I'd never take on an incapable research assistant. I have to work with her."

"Have you corrected my paper yet?" a girl looked in. "I need the grade by Wednesday. I can't graduate if I don't have it."

"From someone on the verge of graduating I'd expect a better time planning," Mrs. Seton said briskly. "There's no way I can correct your paper before Monday." She could start on it on Friday, but maybe she would not finish it the same day.

"But my graduation!"

"Will be a week later, assuming you pass the paper. My son is getting married. You can't expect me to take your paper to the wedding just because you have a faulty time planning? Monday -- not sooner."

The girl left with a dissatisfied expression, undoubtedly to complain to her friends in the canteen about her unfriendly professor with her irritating son who had to get married right this week.

"I didn't know you were that strict," John said in surprise. He had been a little embarrassed when his mother had brought him up, but fortunately she had not pointed at him so it might well have been another son she had been talking about and the girl had not stared too much.

"You learn to be. Will you be needing anything for Thursday?"

"Such as?"

"Clothes? Gifts? A hotel reservation?"

"A hotel reservation?" John repeated. "What for?"

"Even your father took me on a honeymoon," she reprimanded him, not understanding how he could be her son and not have any romantic notions. It was impossible to conceive and she decided that he was just too shy to admit it. But nobody was going to arrange anything for him or Anna. They had to do that themselves. Well, unless they really planned to go back to work the day after, in that case she would interfere and pack them off to the tropics single-handedly.

"Oh, well…I'll ask." It was better to ask, he thought, in case Anna had other plans or they both arranged something. He took his mother to his house afterwards, so she could see the wedding dress. She inspected the cellar first, knowing it was one of the common spaces of the house and generally messy. "Who made this mess?" she asked, stepping over a pile of wet towels.

"I did," said John, quickly stuffing them into the washing machine before she could ask how long they had been lying there, which was only a day, but too long in her eyes, no doubt. "Patrick was in here with Marie-Celeste, you see, so I only dropped them there."

"I didn't know Patrick could find this place," Mrs. Seton remarked. She climbed the stairs and rapped on his door. "Patrick?"

"Hi Mum," he said when he opened the door.

"What happened to your room?" she cried when she noticed it was considerably tidier that the previous time she had been there. No, it was incredibly tidy. Not a thing was out of place.

"Marie-Celeste happened to my room," he said humorously. "Are you checking up on me?"

"No, I came to look at something. You'll be at the wedding, won't you?"

"Yes, of course, but aren't John and I leaving for Argentina right after? We're both going to that tournament. You never said you weren't going," he looked at his brother questioningly. "So I entered you too. Before I knew you were getting married."

"Oh, did you?" John was relieved. "I'll only have to take another ticket then if Anna doesn't mind. I'll pull out if she objects."

"How romantic," Patrick commented. "Either you're going to play like a rag or you're going to have a lousy honeymoon."

"It beats cybersexing with Marie-Celeste," said John and ran upstairs to get the dress. What did Patrick know of honeymoons anyway? Or of the effect of honeymoons on tennis? The nearest he would get to having company in Argentina was through email or chat.

His mother followed him more slowly. "What is cybersexing?" And what was this about a tournament, of all things to occupy a newly married couple? They should be in bed, on the beach or by the poolside, none of which were very likely to happen during a tournament.

He grinned at her. "Ask Patrick." Patrick would be sending cheeky messages to Marie-Celeste from Argentina, if he was not already sending her cheeky messages right now.

"Why? Does he do it? What is it? It's not dangerous, is it? Will he get a disease from it?" she asked in concern, but John was only laughing, so she decided to ask Patrick himself and picked up the books that Anna had ordered. "Where did you get these?" She also noted that Anna had not interfered with John's room at all, unlike her sister. It was exactly the same. However, this was not John's usual reading material and she was curious.

"Anna ordered them for me. Here's the dress." He hoped she would like it.

She inspected it. "It looks nice enough. Has she tried it on yet?"

That sounded rather flat. Did she not like it? It had looked nicer on a model, but it would also look nicer on Anna, he knew that. "No, it arrived only today."

"She should, actually, but not where you can see it. I'll take it with me."

Chapter 135

"Does Anna know?" Celeste asked.

"Since last week," Eliane answered. "She didn't say much. You don't say much either." She had expected both of them to react more emotionally.

"Anna never says much, you should know that," Celeste said with a hint of her familiar self. "And I have already said all I had to say, in private, many years ago. I used to be quite upset with you, but it didn't change anything."

Eliane said nothing -- she knew Celeste had had difficulties with her -- and they sat in silence for a while.

"You have every reason to be angry, Eliane."

"I don't think I can." She sounded just like her daughter. Like Anna she seemed to be incapable of sustained anger or resentment.

"Don't forgive me because you think I'm old and senile. People tend to underestimate us and that's why we have to have a big mouth, or else they would put us in wheelchairs and talk about us over our heads as if we wouldn't understand. If you have a big mouth they take you much more seriously and they won't see you as a sweet old granny."

Eliane wondered when this would happen to her. "I'm old. I'm going to be a grandmother."

Celeste frowned. "But Anna is not even married."

"No, that's right. She's marrying on Thursday."

"And you're running ahead of things by assuming she will get pregnant soon after?"

"She's already pregnant," Eliane admitted.

"I hadn't expected that of Anna, but I suppose the younger generations are different. Is that why she's marrying on Thursday? They have a special name for that kind of wedding. Have you made sure she's marrying the father of the child and not some other man, Eliane?" Celeste said significantly.

Eliane looked at her oddly. Was this a joke? "Yes."

"Good, because we don't want a repetition of events." She leant back. "The advantage of being old is that you can see waves. There's a new wave coming up. There'll be a new youngest generation in a few years. I hope I'll be around to instill in them a good sense of who they are and that they shouldn't take their position for granted and behave like the nouveau riche. Nice though they may be, they're not quite us."

"You should write a book," Eliane murmured. Celeste could go on about the subject forever.

"Yes, maybe." Celeste thought about it. "Well, Eliane. Maybe you can. But you might not have time, hmm? You look a little younger than you were last week, too young to be sitting behind the geraniums all day, and you have to cure Eduard of being a bachelor. He's always been so devotedly single that I'm sure he's acquired a lot of curious habits. After a while you must try if you can't get him to marry you, because I'm sure our new queen would like that better. She's quite strict about other people's conduct, our Marie-Celeste. What's she going to do with the young man she crashed through that Louis XIV sofa with?"

"Patrick?" Eliane could not imagine that it would be anyone else, although she had not heard of the incident. "Sofa?"

Celeste shook her head. "Marie-Celeste chased him across the Palace, but woe betide other women who do that. She would probably say they were misbehaving while her actions were justified, just like Anna thinks her behaviour is justified, but not quite, or else she wouldn't hurry so much. She had rather too rational views on love when we discussed it last. Anna is not getting married in the Cathedral, is she? I haven't heard anything about that, so I suppose not. Where then?"

"At Eduard's house."

"Ahh yes. Eduard. You know that I always suspected him of liking younger girls? I did that for a while until I suspected him of liking you. He isn't that much older than Anna, you see, and of good family, so I tried to encourage that, but he always looked as if he was repelled by my hints, so I thought he didn't like women," Celeste lowered her voice. "It happens, you know. Have you heard about Charles-Louis? I wished Charles-Louis would like Anna too. But there I was with my wishes for a good match and one seemed to like her like a daughter and the other like a brother, while she's perfectly lovely. I didn't understand a thing of it."

"Maybe you shouldn't wish to arrange marriages."

"But I have nothing else to do all day," Celeste protested and then eyed Eliane shrewdly. "You were unfortunate to have come here right after Zizi left. She was going to visit Doctor Henri, that old rogue. He's jolly good fun. Must invite him to lunch again. Half the town will be speculating about you and Eduard over tea and I must beg him to be more discreet."

"Doctor Henri is not as indiscreet as he lets on," said Eliane. "If he never told you Charles-Louis was gay." But still, Baroness Zizi was not to be trusted. There was no telling what nonsense she might tell Dr Henri.

"He knew?" Celeste cried.

"Of course he knew. He was the one who set up Charles-Louis with David."

Anna first encountered Sophia and Suzanna when she came home. They looked so excited that she wondered what was the matter. "We don't want to shock you, Anna," Sophia said kindly. "But we have some news that might upset you."

Me too! I'm your biological niece! Anna had some news for them too, although it would perhaps not upset them to know that. However, she looked at them differently now, more patiently.

"Your mother is having an affair with Eduard!" said Suzanna, unable to keep it in.

"Not so blunt, Suze!" Sophia berated her younger sister. She put her arm around Anna. "Don't mind Suze. She makes it sound very improper, but what we meant to say is that certain feelings have grown between Eduard and your mother and now they're in love."

Anna had begun to smile. Really, they were old dears. "Is that all?" Would they be disappointed with her reaction? But she already knew the news.

"Is that all? Aren't you upset?" Sophia asked as if she had wanted Anna to be upset.

"Why? Do you think my mother could do better than your brother?"

"Oh, definitely not," said Eduard's eldest sister. She did not say whether she was of the opinion that Eduard could do better than Eliane.

"Finally," said Suzanna. "We were beginning to doubt that Eduard would ever have a child to leave his house to."

Anna felt that perhaps they would succeed in shocking her after all. Suzanna was not the brightest member of the family, but even she must know that surely Eliane was a little bit too old? If only because she was going to be made a grandmother -- she did not know about the theoretical possibility.

"Suze, he's not going to have a child, because Eliane's children are no longer children. Anna is…oh, how old are you again, dear? Twenty-nine? And Marie-Celeste and Alex are big too."

"Something like that," Anna replied with a smile. Twenty-nine had been a few years ago.

"Well! I was talking about Eliane," Suzanna protested.

"And she must be at least sixty! Suze! If Anna is twenty-nine! Use your brain. He can leave the house to Eliane's daughters."

"Really? Well, I suppose you're right, Sophia," Suzanna said regretfully, but she was determined to point out to her brother the existence of a certain Italian doctor who did wonders for older women. "Although I'm sure you're not right about Eliane's age. This morning she looked to be about forty and you know our Mama had Eduard when she was well over forty."

"Now you are upsetting me," said Anna with a shudder. "She's fifty-three, Suzanna. They're nearly grandparents. They'll go walking together and all that, but they're too sedate for anything else." And they were two calm people too.

Suzanna nodded wisely. That was what all those young people thought, but she knew better. Well, everyone could call her crazy, but she still chose to have certain thoughts when she remembered Eduard fondling a woman who looked to be forty, in company at that. Sedate? Ha! It was no use telling Anna that Eduard had been messing about with her mother's skirt -- she was not going to believe it.

"Eduard!" Sophia called when he came into sight. "We've just been talking to your new stepdaughter."

"My new -- oh," he said, exchanging a smile with Anna. "That's such a long word, isn't it?"

"Daughter is fine with me too," Anna reassured him.

"That's better," he answered. "Now, Anna. I have to talk to you about that list of things you left me this morning. Would you care to take a walk with me?" It was none of his sisters' business what they had to discuss and he excused himself. They walked away. "Your mother is with your grandmother."

She looked up at his doubtful tone. "Oh. Is that good or bad?"

"I don't know. They're talking." Everyone knew those two never spoke more than what was necessary and he had a right to be doubtful about it. "I did what you ordered, except the doctor bit, because I didn't understand that."

"I didn't mean to order you," Anna said apologetically. "I'm sorry if I did." She supposed that she had come to take delegating tasks for granted and she frowned. Perhaps she should try to do something herself once. She was good at delegating things to the right people, but there was very little she could do herself.

"It's alright. If I do things myself, at least I know they're done well and I do want your wedding to be done well."

Anna took his arm unconsciously. "Thank you," she said softly.

"This is hopefully the only time a daughter of mine will be married," Eduard explained. He liked walking arm in arm with a daughter.

She suppressed a smile when she thought about Suzanna, but she quite agreed with him. This was to be the one and only time. She was not going to marry anyone else in the future.

"You have to free some time tomorrow to sign a few things for the abdication. No press," he said reassuringly when she looked a little alarmed. "This is the pre-signing. Wednesday afternoon it's going to be more public." Which meant he had to rehearse the wedding in the morning. "You and Marie-Celeste will both be required to attend, naturally."

"Does Marie-Celeste know? Does she want to?" Anna wanted to know. She was afraid that Marie-Celeste had suddenly changed her mind.

"Marie-Celeste knows and she's diligently preparing herself. That's why we haven't seen much of her."

"What about Patrick?"

"Well…you leave that to Marie-Celeste. I believe she's got it all planned out. She wants you to move out as soon as possible, though."

"Why?" Anna was curious. Was Patrick going to move in only if she moved out?

"Because she believes she needs a bigger flat and the only way she can expand her territory is by having you move out. Or Eliane, because Eliane has the biggest flat in the Palace."

"And Maman is not moving out?"

"I don't know," Eduard confessed. "It would be nice, but…it hasn't entered your sister's mind yet. I think she wants you and Patrick to switch rooms. And of course there's Alexandra." He sounded a little afraid of Alexandra.

Anna bit her lip. She could see how Alex would be in the way. They could not expect a seventeen-year old to agree to move in with her mother's lover who lived in a small village far away from school without protesting. "I see -- about Alex. But Cel's idea about me switching with Patrick isn't bad. We're going to need an extra room anyway."

"Anna," Eduard interrupted her obvious planning before she would start mentally decorating the baby's room. "Think about that later. It's not important right now. I've been too busy to really follow the news, but it seems your troubles are over."

"It seems so," she nodded quietly. "I publicly extended my sympathies to the next of kin."

"Good," he said appreciatively.

"I didn't think of that myself," she hastened to say. "It was the messenger."

He snorted a little. "Doesn't matter. Nobody's ever original."

"But you know, I don't really want to know how it ends. I've had enough of it. It's over. That's all I want to know. Do you understand?" she asked. "I can't bring myself to watch the news."

"It'll soon be overshadowed by the news of your abdication," Eduard predicted. "Let's hope no one will imagine a connection between the two, but someone's bound to ask you during the press conference." He knew that would not be something she enjoyed.

"Press conference?" Anna asked in an alarmed voice. She would not like that at all, yet she knew it was inevitable.

"You can't expect anyone to accept it without asking questions. You do need to give a little explanation."

"I suppose so," she said morosely. "I'm not looking forward to it."

"Yes, you are. Your final act. Only serious press, Anna. That's got to make a difference. You'll know which questions to answer honestly and which not."

"And that will be on Wednesday?" she asked. "What if they ask me what I'm going to do on Thursday?"

"You can say you're going to a birthday party," he suggested. "And if they ask you if you're giving up the throne for a man, you can say whatever you like and they'll all write down yes anyway."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"It may sound odd and he will deny it, but I think you'll get the most adequate verbal protection from John. Get him in a tactless mood and he's guaranteed to make short work of any probing questions or suggestive statements, at the risk of embarrassing you, but you're just going to have to keep in mind that he doesn't do it intentionally."

"What do you mean, tactless mood?"

"When he says what he's thinking without stopping to think about what he's saying. He should do that more often. With some people you wish they'd think first, but he's actually the opposite, if you're not easily offended."

"I'm not."

"Well, he said he was never tactless to you, but since you're never offended anyway, you might not even recognise it as such," Eduard realised. "So I don't know if he was telling the truth."

"He did call me an inbred royal moron or something long ago," Anna mused. "I was only offended for a short while, because then I supposed he was right. I was being stupid."

So Anna knew how he could be, although her calling it 'long ago' made him snort. How long ago could it have been? Two weeks? Three weeks? "Then think about taking him if you don't feel happy about going alone. You might even laugh at what he's blurting out. I know I did when he tried to explain he couldn't see me as your father because I didn't look old enough."

"Alright." Anna was certain that John would say no, though. She wondered what else they had talked about. Her?

"Are you going on a honeymoon?" Eduard asked. They could. Nothing would be detaining Anna, although he was not sure about John.

"Huh…" Anna said vaguely. She did not want to tell anyone what she thought about that, not even Eduard and she coloured slightly. John would not do anything unless he knew she approved of it, but she did not want to know about it in advance. Did he not know she liked everything as long as it was with him? He should just tell her to come along and she would go. She found she could not undergo this wedding very rationally at all.

"Have you arranged anything?"

"Me? No," she said decidedly. Maybe something would arrange itself on Thursday? She frowned for a few moments and then took out her phone, quickly tapping a message. Don't know where to, but coming with you Friday.

"What are you doing?" Eduard asked.

"Oh, nothing." Anna coloured even more. She sent a new message. & staying.

Any pref? was what she received in return, almost promptly. "Any pref! No," she whined. He should take care of that. How could she tell him so? Not loc, only act.

Eduard watched her in amused bewilderment. Any pref? What on earth is ANY PREF supposed to mean? "What are you doing?" he asked again. He never sent messages on his phone. Maybe he should try it once and he would experience the thrill he did not understand at the moment, but which it obviously gave Anna.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly tell you that." Anna looked alarmed. "I'm talking to John."

"I'll leave you alone then," he decided, shaking his head when she did not even see him leave, being too busy reading a new message. Any preference! he realised suddenly. For what? Aha! He understood it now, in the light of their talk about a honeymoon. He glanced over his shoulder to see Anna engrossed in thinking of a new reply. He had been in a mischievous mood all day, why stop now? He took out his phone and looked up the message option. He knew where to find it, even if he never used it and he had John's number too. You should take her to a deserted beach, he sent to John. That should help him out.

As it was, John appeared to be only puzzled by the third person interfering in his conversation. You're not Anna. Who? Don't read what I write to A! he returned almost directly and Eduard laughed. So what Anna was receiving was not meant to be read by third parties. He switched on his identification so John could see who he was. A stopped talking to me after your messages came in. Scratch deserted beach. Crowded beach is the same to you.

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