"People are going to wonder why we're late," said John when he descended the stairs to his front door. His bag was swung over his shoulder and Anna was carrying the food.

"I don't think they will if they're in any way acquainted with your flat," she answered lightly. "They'd know how hard it is to avoid the bed in such a small place."

He paused at the door. This would be his last chance to say it. Her chauffeur was outside and this was none of his business. "I'm sorry we got carried away, Anna." He was sorry for her sake, not for his own, but then there was not so much at stake for him as for her.

For the one with the least qualms beforehand he was certainly apologising an awful lot afterwards, Anna noticed, because this was already the fifth time that he had said something to that effect. "I'm not at all sorry, but it's really sweet of you to be so concerned."

"I don't think I'll ever understand women," he sighed and touched her face. "How can you say that now when before you said the complete opposite? Your worst nightmare might come true and you say you're not at all sorry. And I can't believe we discussed it all so rationally and then went ahead and ignored the whole discussion."

"That's what bugs you most, isn't it?" Anna laughed.

"I can't believe you're so cheerful." He was cheerful himself, but he could not show it unless he was absolutely certain that she was too.

"That's because I'm still floating," said Anna. "I see everything in a happy light."

He smiled at her and went outside, hoping that reality would not kick in any time soon, because he did not know what she would do then. Or perhaps, if she was aware that she was floating, she was also aware of reality and it was just that she did not care. He looked around himself if there was anything unusual, but the street was quiet and Anna's chauffeur was waiting beside the car. John did not know how long they had spent inside -- he had not looked at his watch when they got here -- but he hoped the chauffeur had not been waiting beside that car all the time. He would certainly be wondering what had taken them so long.

Anna was thinking about how she could get rid of the chauffeur. He must not like having to spend New Year's Eve driving and waiting. "Don't you still have that card?" she asked John.

"Which card?"

"That card you showed to the Commissioner."

He shook his head. "No."

"Damn," said Anna and took out her phone. She looked up Hegge's number, grateful for the fact that he had programmed it into her organiser. "Hello? It's Anna. Yes. No, I have a question. Where are you? Could you come to where John lives? No? Can we come to you? Where is that? Thank you."

"What are you doing?" asked John as she put her phone away.

"Get in the car," she waved and instructed the chauffeur on where to go. "You'll see." At the address Hegge had given her she got out with the chauffeur, who had to go out whenever she did anyway, and she rang the bell. Hegge answered the door.

"Hi, Anna," he smiled and kissed her on the cheek. She looked great in her party outfit.

"Thomas, may I ask you a favour? I need you to show my shadow your little card, so he'll know you're able to protect me and he can go home to his family. I don't think he'll go if I tell him to and John doesn't have his card anymore, he says." The words tumbled out of her mouth and he looked a little taken aback.

"Which card?"

"Don't tell me you don't have a card! You must have some sort of professional ID!"

He frowned at her. "Oh, yes. I do."

"Can you show it to him?" Anna begged.

"Yes, sure." Hegge took out his wallet and spoke briefly to the chauffeur. He turned back to Anna. "Your summerhouse, right? Until…?"

"Sunday morning?"

"Sunday morning at eleven?"

Anna nodded. "That sounds good."

"Fine. Where's umm…" Hegge made a few vague gestures that Anna interpreted as referring to John. She gestured to the car. "Why is he staying there? Seton?" John appeared slowly. "Oh, I see why you stayed out of sight. You're dressed up," Hegge grinned. "Nice suit, boss. I didn't know you had one."

The poor chauffeur did not know what was going on anymore and he gave up trying to understand how they all came to know each other and how Seton could be this other man's boss. As long as someone would take him home, he would have no problem with it all. Her Majesty could overrule his orders, although he was trained to pretend that she could not, and she was certainly overruling them now, but she tried to do it as sensibly as possible by placing herself in good hands. He had seen those little cards before. She was a nice girl to allow him some time off. He had been rather put out at being assigned on duty tonight and tomorrow and his wife had not at all been pleased with it either. She had said that he should have protested against it. She would be happy now.

"Can you drive George home?" Anna asked John. "I'll stay with Hegge."

She had asked for his card and then instructed the driver to drive to Hegge. It was pretty logical to him what Anna was doing here and he had let her arrange it all to her satisfaction. John shrugged. He would be happy doing anything and the only reason he had not stepped forward before, was because he had an idiotic smile plastered onto his face that he was rather embarrassed to let Hegge see. Hegge was an astute observer who would not misinterpret such a sign.

"So when's the wedding?" Hegge asked Anna when he led her inside.

"I wish we wouldn't have to have a wedding," Anna confessed. "I don't like being the centre of attention and everybody will be looking at me."

"So there will be one?" he said excitedly. "When?"

"I don't know that yet." She was shown into the living room. Nathalie was there. "Hello," she said in surprise, looking curiously from one to the other.

Nathalie rose to shake her hand. Anna looked different with her dress and her diamond earrings and her hair done nicely, and if it were not for that shy smile, Nathalie would almost be afraid to address her. "I was told you had invited me," she said when she realised Anna had not expected her, sending a reproachful glance in Hegge's direction.

Hegge immediately defended himself. "If you must know, I'll tell you how it went. Seton was afraid he'd be hungry, because there would be so many people and so little food, so he invited us just so we could bring more food, isn't he nice? -- don't look insulted, Anna -- and then I figured there'd be too many men, so I asked him if I couldn't bring another woman. After all, we'd need somebody to cook and I can't see Anna do that. And then I immediately thought of you, because you're in the know."

"I can't cook," Nathalie said with a sweet smile.

"Who cooks for you then?" Hegge asked in alarm. "Not your…husband?"

"No, another man," Nathalie said calmly. She winked discreetly at Anna.

"Oh," he said, obviously dismayed. "I didn't know that. I'll get you both something to drink."

Nathalie snorted when he was gone. "My father cooks," she whispered to Anna. "But don't tell him that yet. He's the most flirtatious person I've ever met and he really should tone down."

They had not spoken much in the car. Anna had dozed off when she had been unable to follow the men's discussion over the sound of the engine and the radio. When they arrived at Anna's summerhouse, they found Raine and Gris waiting for them. Anna was glad to see them. It reminded her of the days that they had spent here. She had liked that time.

She yawned as she waited for them to open the door and wished she could lie down, but not in her dress, naturally. Changing into her pyjamas seemed like a wonderful idea. That would be much more comfortable than this dress.

"How is your head?" Nathalie asked when the men had checked the house. They were used to doing that and they did it swiftly.

"Not so well, but I shouldn't complain." It felt as if someone was hammering inside her head, but she could not go to bed now that she had people staying in her house. She could lie on the couch.

"Where would I sleep?" Nathalie asked when Anna started towards the stairs.

Anna paused and thought about it. "Celeste, Louis and I have our own rooms upstairs and then there are some more rooms both upstairs and downstairs and those are all for more people. It will all take care of itself, I hope. I don't feel like assigning people to beds. Just claim an impersonal-looking bed, I'd say."

"May I look around the house?" Nathalie asked. "It's lovely."

"Yes, go ahead." Anna thought again and lifted up John's bag. She might as well take it upstairs with her. There were no servants here.

"Where are you going with my bag?" he suddenly appeared.

"I was taking it upstairs."

"Isn't it too heavy?"

Nathalie rolled her eyes. "If it was too heavy for her, I'm sure she'd leave it downstairs."

Anna carried it upstairs. "It's not too heavy. I'm going to change into my pyjamas." And she was going to take a bath first; a nice, long bath to soothe her head.

"Our hostess will be in pyjamas?" Nathalie wondered if Anna was going to bed or if she would actually come down and host some kind of party wearing pyjamas. It was difficult to imagine Anna hosting a party in any sort of clothing, though. "Is this a pyjama party? Pierre, do we have to do that too?"

"No. She's just tired."

"Okay! She's so tired that she invites a host of people. That really makes sense. Let 'em all watch me yawn or something like that."

Hegge passed through the hall with a box. "She invites people so she can invite Seton, see?" He nodded at John.

"Ahh. I see." Nathalie studied him. "We're being used. We're the food and the alibi."

John frowned. "Actually, you're right in a way. I'm sorry. We didn't do it consciously."

"Can't you drive with us?" Patrick asked. "We don't know where it is."

"You should have asked your brother for directions," Marie-Celeste replied readily.

"I did, but I can't remember what he said. I'm afraid I'll get lost and I'll never get there."

"That would be a pity indeed," she mocked.

"I agree and I'm glad you're offering your services as a navigator. I'm sure you can guide us towards your sister's house most efficiently."

"I didn't offer anything," Marie-Celeste protested.

"Of course you did. You're a lady. Thanks again. Shall we go?"

"James, let the lady sit in the front," said Patrick when they reached the car.

Marie-Celeste had had qualms about being seen leaving with him, but she had been so polite not to voice them. She honestly did not know why she went along with them. She did not care at all if they made it to Anna's house or not. Perhaps it was better if they got lost. But then Anna might be upset.

"Sure, I'm going to nap," James announced and Patrick did not doubt that he would. James could nap everywhere.

Marie-Celeste had forgotten that they had to pick up some food and extra clothes and she noticed that they were taking the wrong road. "We're going wrong."

"Are you telling me I don't know where I live?" Patrick asked.

"What are we going to do there?" Marie-Celeste asked suspiciously.

"Oh, you don't have to do anything there. It's not worthy enough for you -- I didn't clean up. But if you stay in the car, please lock the doors. We don't want to return to find you stolen along with the radio."

"Stolen?"

"Some people steal car radios, but they might realise that you're worth more than a car radio."

"Do you live here?" Marie-Celeste asked when he parked the car in front of a large townhouse.

"No, sorry. But this is right in between our flats. Do you want to come with me or with James or do you want to stay in the car?"

Considering that she did not know James and that she did not want to get stolen, she inhaled deeply and followed Patrick, as much as she hated to do it.

He descended a few steps to a basement. "This is where I live. Mind the rubbish." He kicked some bags aside.

Marie-Celeste stepped over something that looked like a pile of dirty laundry. She could not believe he lived in such a mess. It looked as if he dropped everything he carried the second he stepped inside and she nearly stumbled over a broken tennis racket. "What a pigsty."

"Sit down," Patrick said invitingly. There really was no place to sit and she could not sit down unless he removed some newspapers from the couch. "While I get my things. Would you mind if I took a shower?" If it had worked on Anna, why should it not work on her sister?

"Yes, I would. I don't want to spend any more time here than strictly necessary."

That was a pity, although even he realised that it would have been too big a coincidence. "You've come at a bad moment. I've been too busy to do any cleaning."

"Of course," she said sarcastically.

"Really." Patrick packed his things quickly. He did not see what she was complaining about. If she thought this was bad, she ought to see the kitchen. He frowned at the dishes and shrugged. She would not allow him to do them, presumably, so as soon as he had packed, he relieved her discomfort by saying they were ready to go.

"Alright, where do we go?" he asked when they were back in the car.

"Surely you know how to get out of town?" Marie-Celeste asked sharply.

"Oh, do you mean you don't?"

"Fast your seatbelt," she ordered.

Patrick obeyed her. He drove away to the roundabout at the end of the street.

"Stop that!" Marie-Celeste cried when he kept circling the roundabout without getting off it.

"I don't know where to go," Patrick said stoically and went for another round. "Tell me."

"You know where to go!"

"No, I don't."

"Get off the roundabout."

"I'm very willing to, if you'd only tell me which direction, woman!"

"You knew how to get here, so don't fool me. You drove here on purpose."

"Darling, it was a one-way street. I couldn't go anywhere else," Patrick explained patiently.

"This one," said Marie-Celeste, a fraction too late.

"Sorry, too late," he answered and went a full round again. He grinned as he took the correct exit. "Now was this so difficult? And what do you really think of our siblings together?"

"And what don't I really think?"

"That you approve."

"I do approve."

"Do you? You could just be saying that because it's my brother you're talking about."

"He likes her."

"The village idiot might like her and you wouldn't want him to marry your sister, I hope. Unless he was of royal blood, maybe," Patrick said reflectively. "That would be kind of snobbish. You're a yuppie or dinky, aren't you? No, you're a ding -- dazzling income, no guy. Ding dong! While your sister is a future disk. Yes, I can see her all disky ten years from now."

"I don't think such nonsense deserves a reaction." Marie-Celeste pressed her lips together. Ding? Dazzling income, no guy? No guy! Disk? Dazzling income, s k? She wished she could tell him what he was, but unfortunately she could not think of anything suitably insulting.

Patrick put on a hard rock tape.

"Don't you have any civilised music?" Marie-Celeste asked politely. It was an effort, but she managed it.

"No, sorry. I don't listen to all that dowdy stuff, but I can turn it off if you want."

"That would be nice of you."

"Oh, I do have manners." He turned off the radio.

"Wouldn't it be good to use them once in a while?" she said sarcastically.

"You have enough manners for the both of us. There's no need to waste mine."

"Manners are not wastable."

"They are wasted on you, since you remain polite no matter how rude I am." It was not entirely true. Some of her replies had hardly been civil.

"You're very annoying."

Patrick said no more, but concentrated on the road.

"I thought you had forgotten the directions," Marie-Celeste remarked when he turned out to know exactly where to go.

"They suddenly came back to me. James! We're here," he called to wake his brother up.

"Then why did you need me?"

Patrick grinned. "My memory is not dependable."

They found everybody seated in the living room with a drink, except Anna. "Where is Anna?" Marie-Celeste asked.

"In the bath," said someone.

It was plain to see that Marie-Celeste did not quite approve of such a hostess, but she was surprised to see that her future brother-in-law had taken over this role, even if he had changed into jeans.

"Beer or wine?" he asked.

"Wine please," she said when she saw that everybody else was having beer. She wondered if that was all they had.

Anna lay in her bath thinking. Perhaps she had done just a little too much today. There had not been many opportunities to lay down and give her head a rest, but this bath was doing her good. She hoped that the others would not miss her and she did not think they would. She knew she was never the life of a party. They would manage very well without her. John had been up briefly, to change out of his suit, because he feared it might be wrinkled because of their earlier actions and because he was planning on making something to eat anyway and he did not want to spill anything on it.

He had said it was snowing. She liked snow. It made the world look so peaceful and pretty. It was a pity she could not look at the snowflakes falling while she was in the bath and to get up would be so cold. Snow would be nice. The contrast between the warmth of their party of friends and the bleak world outside would not be as great. She would be away from all concerns with very little to remind her of the madness that would undoubtedly await her on Monday. There would not be any newspapers to scan. Such bliss. Too bad the television news continued, but they would not have to watch it, she thought, until she realised that she would have to. The situation had not yet reached that point at which unexpected things would no longer happen. She would have to keep in touch with what was happening. What if something serious came up? She would have to be able to react to it.

Blowing some foam off her hands, she imagined what she would say when she quit. She could not just go ahead and do it without giving an explanation. If she gave a reason, then people might be more inclined to understand and forgive, although she did not really see why she should beg their forgiveness. True, she was supposed to be exemplary, but she was only human and fallible. Perhaps they would never even need to know that she had been less than exemplary. But no, she could not have anybody think she was a saint when she was not. And they should not think that this was the reason for her to give up. It was more the result of her having decided to give up.

Still, to say that things had evolved pretty quickly would be a magnificent understatement. Anna did not really understand how it could have happened that she had fallen in love, but it had, and she could not do anything but accept it. She smiled. Of course she would never have told him so quickly if they had met under different circumstances, but her emotions had been in a disorderly state already as it was. Under normal circumstances she would probably still be struggling with her feelings instead of having them reciprocated. They had been a little overexposed to each other, which had accelerated the process. Anna thought it had saved her some heartaches -- since they had not been apart much, she had not missed him much. She had missed him when she had first gone home -- a restless longing for something she could not define -- and she had become rather giddy when she had seen him at the tennis stadium, otherwise she would never have been so silly as to offer him a massage. She had received hers in return. He had been better prepared, not having to use anybody's bath oil, but real massage oil and scented too. No wonder things had got out of hand.

When the water turned colder, she got out of the bath and quickly wrapped herself in her bathrobe. She was not going to put on that dress anymore. You could not even put your feet up on the table with a dress on. It would have to be something comfortable, but pyjamas might be a little too comfortable. Imagine what Celeste would say about it. Perhaps jeans would be better. She got dressed and pulled her hair back with a rubber band and then went downstairs.

They were chattering and laughing when she came in and they did not even hear her, quiet as was. There were people whose arrival would never go unnoticed, but Anna never drew attention to herself. She saw that Charles-Louis, David and Rosita had not arrived yet, but the others were all there. Most of them did not notice her until she sat down on the floor, leaning against John's knees. There were no seats left.

"Wow, Seton's got a woman at his feet," Hegge remarked.

"I do?" Patrick asked.

"You wouldn't ever experience the sensation," Marie-Celeste informed Patrick. She did not understand why Anna would come down in her jeans, but she could not say anything about it now. It would be impossible to discuss it in front of the others.

"Never say never."

"That's why I said not ever."

"Not ever is never. Never is just short for not ever," Patrick pointed out. "Ding dong! And you wouldn't ever have a man at your feet either. Ding dong!"

"What's this ding dong you keep saying?" Hegge asked. "I've only ever heard it being used to show that you approve of a member of the opposite sex."

Patrick shuddered and denied that. "I don't approve of any women."

"Not even of me?" Anna cried.

"I do, but you're my sister-in-law and by the way," said Patrick. "Your sister approves of my brother too."

"I don't know," John answered. "They watched our doubles this morning, but that doesn't mean they approve of me."

"What?" Anna cried. She did not know anything about that. "Who?"

"Me and Maman," Marie-Celeste said reluctantly. She was not very eager to let Anna know about this. Why had she gone anyway?

"Why?" said Anna. Had they gone to inspect him? Why had they not told her about it?

"Only the doubles," John clarified. Anna would understand what he meant, he hoped. Eliane had possibly come for him, if it had been her idea, but if it had been Marie-Celeste's idea, the attraction might have been Patrick.

"It did not stimulate you then?" she asked. She knew he had lost the doubles.

John exchanged a look with Patrick and then with James. They had already discussed it among themselves right after the match. "It upset Patrick a bit. We lost."

Patrick guffawed. "Because John was being inspected by the in-laws. It's telling that he didn't lose his singles because they weren't there to watch that."

"And I wasn't alone in the doubles, so what do you conclude from that?" John retorted.

Anna giggled. She wondered if it had been Marie-Celeste's presence which had upset Patrick. It must have been, but why did he bring it up then?

Half an hour later Anna was nearly asleep and John took her up to bed when she even began to close her eyes, but still refused to go because it was her house. He was not all that awake himself anymore, but he still returned to the others.

He did not drink often, but after a few beers his tongue loosened considerably and he talked with more ease and less coherence and sense. His brothers knew that. "Let's pack him off now that he can still co-operate," Patrick said to James when John yawned violently in the middle of telling a confusing anecdote. He never gave much notice before falling asleep, so it was imperative that they got him to a bed before he did.

"Which bed do we put him in?" James asked once they were on the stairs.

"Don't talk about me as if I were unconscious," John protested. "I want to sleep with Anna."

"In your state?" Patrick laughed. "I don't think you even can. You're going to pass out once you're flat."

"I mean I want to sleep in her bed."

"Poor girl," said James. "I'm not sure we should allow you."

"Why are you taking me upstairs?" He wondered why he had come along in the first place. There was nothing wrong with him, but Anna was upstairs and that had been reason enough. And besides, he was tired.

"Because you became a little more talkative than you should. I'm not sure you'd want everyone to know what you raved to us about on the stairs."

"I forgot." John was sure he had not said anything worrisome, but he could be wrong. Maybe it was indeed a good thing that they had taken him upstairs. After all, there were some things he should not reveal and what if he did that by accident? He sobered up a little.

"Exactly," James nodded. "That's what I mean."

"Let's see if she's awake. Where is she?" John opened the door for them and Patrick saw that Anna was still awake. "Can we leave him here or do we leave him in another room? I warn you -- he's asleep the moment his head hits the pillow."

"No, I'm not," John said indignantly and yawned.

"Are you drunk?" Anna asked in distaste, struggling to become fully awake. She was not sure that she wanted a drunk man in her bed.

"I only had four beers," he grinned.

"That's three too many. Does he snore?"

"I don't think so," said James.

"Well…could you brush his teeth and get him into his pyjamas?" Anna asked.

John, Patrick and James stared at her in astonishment. "You must be joking."

"You're not saying I have to do that?"

"I can do that myself," said John and disappeared, before he could be humiliated by having his teeth brushed.

"And you two must wait until he is asleep," Anna decided after a minute. "If he starts snoring, you must take him away."

"Anna!" they complained in unison.

"Does he do this a lot?" she asked anxiously.

"Once a year?" James guessed. "Don't worry about it. He'll talk and talk and then fall over, but he usually doesn't reach this state until after he's had far more drinks."

"I'm really tired," said John when he returned. "I did too much today, I think." He changed into his pyjamas. Anna observed the way he carefully folded his clothes and he winked at her when he saw her frown. Her frown deepened and he laughed. "I'm only tired." He bent over her and whispered something in her ear, which made her groan and disappear under the covers. He got into bed and looked at his brothers. "Does anybody know where I'm sleeping?"

"Does anybody care?" Patrick answered.

"Oh well," John shrugged. "We're getting married in 2000 anyway. I'm sorry about missing the big event and the champagne later on, but I'll wish you all a happy New Year at breakfast. I'm dead right now." He yawned. He would not last the other hour that separated them from 2000.

"Who's going to make breakfast?" James asked.

John pointed his thumb at Anna, who still had not surfaced. "The one who went to bed first, I suppose. Seems fair enough." He lay back on his pillows and closed his eyes.

James and Patrick left the room in wonder. "He didn't seem all that far gone. He usually isn't that clear," said Patrick.

James shook his head. "I can't believe he sleeps in her bed!"

"He's her boyfriend."

"Do you think she'll give him a hard time when he wakes up? She didn't seem to like drunkenness."

"I don't care. They want to marry each other. It's their problem."

But Anna did not wait for John to wake up to give him a hard time. She merely waited until Patrick and James were out of the room. "Why…" she began. "Why do they think you're drunk when you only had non-alcoholic beers?"

"Because I talked a little more than usual," he said sleepily. "You know why."

"Oh. I see. And you're tired?"

"That's not really unusual after today."

"Aren't we totally dull?" she asked. "To go to bed right now?"

"Yes, sorry about that." John rolled over and gave her a goodnight kiss. "But I don't think I could have stayed awake without becoming grumpy."

"Shall we set the alarm for five to twelve?" But she received no reply. "John?" He did not react when she nudged him either. "Men!" Anna groaned. They fell asleep far too easily. She always lay awake for at least half an hour.

Now that Anna and John were both absent, the others could not help talking about them, but the presence of women, and Marie-Celeste in particular, kept them from speculating too much. Nevertheless, Hegge recounted the story of the beginning of their acquaintance, occasionally aided by Raine or Gris. "It was marvellous to watch," he said. "They so misunderstood each other at first, poor dears."

"Because they don't say what they're thinking," said Raine.

"Of course not," Gris remarked. He did not do that himself either.

"Some people overdo this speaking their minds anyway," said Nathalie with a pointed look at Hegge.

"At least then the other person knows where she stands and poor Anna had no clue. We tried to give her hints, even told her Seton had a heart condition -- and I think he hadn't realised it fully until then, because it was priceless to see his face -- but she refused to understand."

"He has a heart condition?" Marie-Celeste asked in surprise.

"I can see you're sisters," Hegge commented. "Anna didn't get it either, but then she didn't know that he's usually very reserved, almost Gris-like. And so very careful with his heart that we didn't even know he had one."

"Hey, thanks," said Gris dryly.

"I'm not saying it's bad, mind you. I'm not at all reserved and my heart gets trodden on all the time. I don't know if you'd prefer that."

"Hmm," said Nathalie. "Does that mean you give it to anybody? Should a woman feel flattered or insulted?"

"I do have some standards," Hegge said in a dignified manner.

"That's good," Patrick nodded. "Because James has no standards."

"Well, it has to be female," said James. He indeed had a different girlfriend every month. "And I'm young, so..."

"And they all want you?" Hegge asked jealously.

"Yeah."

"Horrible," said Patrick. "It's awful. He would be just as untidy as I am if they did not all volunteer to come and clean his flat."

"I can't imagine that," said Marie-Celeste. She would not even volunteer to enter an untidy flat, let alone offer to try and do something about the mess. Heaven knew what one would find.

"I'd be extremely surprised if you could," he answered. "But…you've got the advantage of being in the position to send around a cleaning team before you actually set foot in a flat like that."

She raised her eyebrows. "For official visits, yes, but why would anybody pay an official visit to your pigsty?"

Patrick lifted up his hands. "I have no idea. Hey, it's nearly midnight. Should we get John and Anna back?"

"I thought they were sleeping," said Marie-Celeste.

"Well…" he paused. "We could wake them up. I'll go and see if they're awake."

"You're not going to go into my sister's bedroom." That would be a breach of propriety, she thought.

"You wake her then, but I don't want you to go into my brother's bedroom if you don't want me to go into your sister's. It's just as improper for an unmarried woman to see a sleeping man as it is for an unmarried man to see a sleeping woman."

"Why not? Seeing a sleeping man is not as bad."

"Still, I don't think it's proper."

"I'll just let him sleep then! Or you wake him while I wake my sister," Marie-Celeste decided cattily.

"That's fine with me," Patrick shrugged and smiled. "Shall we go then, Your Holiness?"

She glared at him and led the way up the stairs, pausing at Anna's door. She knocked. "Anna?" she called softly. There was no reply and she opened the door to a crack. "Anna? Are you awake?" Again there was no answer. Marie-Celeste turned to look at Patrick. "Why aren't you waking your brother?"

"I just wanted to see if Anna was awake," he smiled politely.

"I don't think she is." Marie-Celeste went inside and let the light in the hallway shine on the bed. She came out of the room immediately. "You knew he was in there!" she said accusingly.

"Of course. We left him here," he said calmly. "Is he asleep?"

"I don't know."

"I thought you came here to wake Anna up? You didn't try?" Patrick looked in. "Don't tell me you're shocked to see a sleeping man? Hehe. Or had you expected to see them less than a metre apart?" He shook his brother roughly. "Eh, midnight!" There was no reaction. "May I do that to Anna or do you want to do that yourself?"

"I think I'll let her sleep. She must be really tired if she doesn't hear us talking."

"They're nearly comatose. John must really be getting old if he can't even take two tennis matches. One would almost think --" There was a loud cheer from below. "Oops. I think we missed the moment. Happy New Year," said Patrick. "May all your wishes come true this year, Cellie." He surprised Marie-Celeste by giving her three quick kisses on the cheek and then ran downstairs.

Marie-Celeste followed him more slowly. She was a bit baffled. Cellie?

Downstairs, everyone congratulated each other and the bottles of champagne were opened. Since they were surrounded by trees, they could not see any fireworks and there really was not much else to do that talk, drink and watch the celebrations on television. The women went to bed fairly soon, but the men remained in the living room for another while.

Patrick and Hegge had a long and philosophical discussion about unattainable women before they went to bed and when they finally decided to go, there was only one bathroom downstairs, which Hegge claimed for a long bath. Because there would be another bathroom upstairs, Patrick went there, not wanting to wait for Hegge to come out.

There was a skylight and a bit of moonlight illuminated the landing. He could not see very well, though, and he had no idea where the bathroom was. All doors looked alike and he knew of only one what was behind it and that was Anna's room. He tried one at random and stood face to face with Marie-Celeste, who stood in the middle of the bathroom. "I beg your pardon. I was looking for the bathroom," he apologised politely, registering in surprise that she had very long hair, thick and wavy. He was about to step out again when he heard another door open. In shock, he stepped inside and closed the door.

"What are you doing?" She was horrified at being seen without her make-up and with her hair hanging loose.

Patrick looked over his shoulder. "I don't want to compromise you. Someone was going to see me."

"I wouldn't want to be seen wearing Bugs Bunny boxer shorts either," Marie-Celeste said icily. Did the fool not see he was comprising her only more by locking himself into the bathroom with her? Apparently not, but what could one expect from a man with Bugs Bunny boxers? Only then it struck her that that was all he was wearing and she nearly gasped. What was he thinking?

"If I had known you were going to see me, I'd have put on a different pair. Don't you like Bugs Bunny?" he asked ruefully.

She pressed her hand to her forehead. "No!"

She sounded the same as always, but she did not look it. Patrick stared at her nightgown and then looked down at the floor. It was best not to peek. He kept his eyes on the floor. "I'm sorry."

"Are you mocking me? I bet you're secretly laughing," she said suspiciously. He did not look as if he was, but you never knew. He did not even look at her, even though she knew she was underdressed. "I don't trust your politeness."

"After midnight you may," he answered seriously. "I tend to be nice during the night, but I take daylight pretty badly."

Marie-Celeste looked as if he was a raving lunatic. She lifted her nose into the air haughtily and exited the bathroom by another door, leaving a bewildered Patrick behind. He had no idea that there was another door. Where did it lead?

"Are you stalking me?" asked Marie-Celeste angrily when he followed her. "You may leave the bathroom through the other door. This one leads to my bedroom as you see and I don't see what business you could possibly have here. In your boxer shorts!" She was discomfited by the sight.

"I hope you're not going to kill anyone who's seen you like that," Patrick said. "Neither of us can keep up the pretence at night, can we? I can't be wicked and Cellie can't inspire the same respect as Marie-Celeste…" With a gallant bow he left the room through the bathroom door, locking it behind him and soon she heard the sound of running water.

When John woke up, Anna was already awake and watching him. "I hope you weren't angry with me for falling asleep last night. I'm not sure that was a nice thing to do," he said.

"Don't people usually go to bed to fall asleep?" Anna asked innocently. Maybe she was cruel, but he looked so very adorable when he did not really know what to say.

"I didn't know if you expected me to -- what you expected me to do…"

"You do realise that you really can't have the last conscious thing you did in 1999 be the same thing as the first conscious thing you did in 2000?" Anna's eyes twinkled. "That would be so…"

"The last conscious thing I did was kiss you good night. Does that mean I can't kiss you good morning? Maybe it's a good thing that I can't," John said reflectively. "We haven't even talked about last night yet. What if…"

"I'd like to know what you're thinking about that," Anna said in a serious voice.

"I don't want to get you into trouble."

"Literally or figuratively?"

"If you weren't a queen, I wouldn't mind if you -- if we had a baby. It will have money, a father, and Hegge has even donated a name and a shirt. What more does it need? But because you're a queen, people will give you trouble."

His use of the plural personal pronoun gave her a warm feeling inside. "Do we care? People always point their fingers at others. Why do queens have to live by nineteenth-century standards? It's stupid! If I don't get pregnant nobody will ever know or care and presumably it's alright, but if I get pregnant I did exactly the same thing and people will condemn me. Aren't we going to get married? What do those few months matter?"

John hugged her. "They don't matter to me, but Anna, if we know that people will be annoying, shouldn't we take care to avoid it?"

"I don't know. I feel like upsetting them," Anna said crossly. "I feel like upsetting people," she repeated. "But I won't do it on purpose. Not as long as we can use the supply of free gifts from Alexandra's music magazines."

"The supply of what?" John asked. He did not know if he had heard her correctly.

"Free gifts -- to make you buy the magazine. In this case it was something Alexandra doesn't need, but that we do."

"Ahh."

"Your sports magazines aren't as useful, are they?" Anna teased.

"Neither does what you read," he teased back. "If the magazine was Alexandra's, how come they're still in the magazines?"

"They're not. I took them out when I first saw them and got into a really big fight with her." Anna sighed. "She called me boring, conservative, stupid and she really didn't see what I'd want with them. I didn't see what she could want with them either, so I confiscated them."

By the looks of it, they were the first ones to come downstairs, even though they had been awake for quite some time already. John was glad for it -- he did not know how much everyone knew or suspected and he was certain that he would betray too much.

"Oh!" Anna cried in delight. "Look at the snow!"

It was very white outside and while it looked pretty, he did not know if they should be delighted with it. So much had fallen that traffic would have problems. "If more falls, we'll be snowed in."

"Would that be a bad thing? Yes, it would," Anna answered her own question. "We have to get you back home tomorrow."

"Apart from not having enough food or clothes."

She shrugged, knowing that their climate was not known for heavy snowfall. It would not be too bad to get through to the shops, although John would have a hard time walking back to the capital.

She cleared the table while he turned on the TV and she listened as she worked, cringing all the while. She did not like to hear herself being talked about.

The Information Service stated that Her Majesty celebrated the arrival of the new century at an undisclosed location, presumably in the family circle.

"That's not too bad," Anna bit her lip.

"No," he answered, switching off the TV and beginning to help her. They piled everything in the sink, for the others to clear up.

"What do we make? I'll put on a CD from the car," said Anna when the table was clean.

John was about to answer her, but he shrugged when she went out. Apparently she did not want to know what they were going to make and it was good that she did not, because he had no idea yet. He opened the refrigerator and took out a few things.

Anna waded through the snow towards the car and found it locked when she tried. She shivered, being without a coat, and pounded on the kitchen window.

"What is it?" John gestured.

"The keys," Anna gestured back.

He struggled with the latch of the window and opened it. "This proves once more that women don't know anything about cars and that they only pay attention to the colour! They all look alike with that layer of snow, don't they? I don't have the keys to that car you want to get into," he said in amusement and closed the window again.

Anna stared at the car. He seemed to imply that this was not her car. He did not have the keys and he ought to have the keys to her car, because he had been driving it last night. She had to uncover the greater part of three cars before she found hers. Suddenly she noticed footprints in the snow; other footprints. She had not walked there yet and she froze. Somebody had been here and not long ago. She did not know how long she had been staring at the tracks until John spoke.

"Anna? What's wrong?" He had looked out of the window again to see whether she had located her own car yet and he had seen her stand absolutely still in shock.

"Why can't people just leave me alone?" Anna said with a sob and threw herself into his arms. She was certain that it was someone who wanted to bother her. It might even be dangerous and it filled her with fear. She pointed at the footprints.

Over her head, John noticed the other footprints, which seemed to have been circling the house. It had probably been journalists, not people with a truly evil intention, but it would still be good to check it out. He released Anna and started to follow the trail.

"John?" she cried in fear. "What are you going to do?"

"See who was here and what they did."

"No! Don't do that! What if they're after us?" Anna crumbled.

He had to drag her with him, because she wanted him to stay with her. "Anna, if they were after us, they would have got us by now," he said after a few paces.

It calmed her down a little. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet, but I can throw pretty dangerous snowballs." He knew he could throw them with considerable force and accuracy, which might be a lousy weapon, but good enough to use on unarmed people.

The footsteps led to a small gate separating the grounds from the adjoining property. John traced them as far as the back door of the neighbouring house, out of which they had seemed to have come. Anna had refused to go beyond the gate and she was waiting anxiously, nervously glancing around herself to see if nobody was approaching her. He waved at her, but she still refused to come nearer and he went back to her. "Your neighbour came around to wish you a happy new year, I think. Are you still afraid?"

Anna felt embarrassed and bent her head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He pulled her arm through his and led her back to her own house.

"Yes, I am. You think I'm extremely silly."

"No, I don't." Well, she overreacted just a little, but given her recent history, that was understandable. "Who lives there anyway?" he asked when he saw that she was anxious not to be seen from the neighbour's house.

"Do you know Paolo?" Paolo was a very common singer, a real man of the people, hung with gold and singing tearjerkers.

"You live next door to him?" John asked incredulously. He laughed. That was not someone he wished to see either. He would not know what to say. They got the CD's from the car and returned inside.

"This is a frightfully stereotypical division of labour, isn't it. All you're letting me do is the decorating," Anna said after a while.

"Does that mean you've recovered?" He tried to sense whether she was happy with the arrangement or not. It had not been a conscious decision. It had merely happened that way. But her mind must be on other things than her fear if she could notice such a thing.

"From what?"

"From your fears." He looked at her carefully. She was still so easily shaken and he did not know if he offered the right kind of support. Anna would not tell him if she needed more.

"For the moment." Anna concentrated on laying a knife perfectly straight. "But not forever," she said almost inaudibly.

"It will end." He hugged her. "Am I handling this right?" he asked uncertainly.

"You're trying and I appreciate that." She wished she could speak a little more warmly, but as it was, it all came out rather unemotionally, to her ears.

"But…?" he looked at her pleadingly.

He wants me to speak, Anna thought in despair. She really did not know how to voice her feelings. Recently, she had begun to be able to voice some, but not yet all. "It's not you, it's me. I'm afraid that you'll become sick of it if it doesn't go away," she said with an unhappy face.

"It will go away. Does it work if I say that?"

"A little," Anna smiled. "And staying with me helps a little too."

"I'm not used to this," John said helplessly. "Tell me when you need less or more."

"I will. You're doing fine, don't worry, but I'm not used to this either," she apologised.

"Yet," he smiled.

She loved that smile. It could make her smile too just by seeing it. "I don't want to become used to whining."

"Trust me. You're no whiner," he assured her. "Shall we make breakfast?"

"How?"

"How?" he repeated. "With the food in the fridge of course. Aren't you hungry?"

The others trickled in while John and Anna were finally having their long-postponed omelette. They had waited, but it had taken so long for anyone to appear and they had been so hungry, that they had decided to start.

"Going to bed before everyone, eating before everyone," Charles-Louis remarked. "You two are very social people. Has Anna found her equal at last? Your brother and sister tried to wake you up just before midnight, but they said you were in a coma."

"Cel? Where is she?" Anna asked.

"And where is Patrick?" James added.

"He and Hegge stayed up really late and they're probably still in bed," said Gris. Neither of them was there yet, or had even been seen around the bathrooms. "They were discussing women."

"By the way," said Louis. "The people at the theatre loved it that you were at the theatre last night, though they were a little disappointed that you did not come backstage afterwards."

"How could they love me? I didn't do anything." Anna was baffled.

"You were there."

"I didn't talk to anyone."

"You talked to Paul," said David.

"Who's he?" Anna could not remember talking to anyone.

"There was a man who came to ask if you didn't want any refreshments," John reminded her.

"Yes! That was Paul," David said enthusiastically. "He's the guy who runs the theatre. He was delighted with you."

"Why?" Anna could not see it.

"Because you came when you were unwell and you were polite and so on."

"He's odd," she commented in embarrassment.

Nathalie knew her least well and it was still very strange for her to see that Anna was so modest and insecure, though the insecurity had become less, compared to last time. She observed the way Anna made coffee, in the middle of the preparations surreptitiously asking her how many spoons of coffee she needed, but then when she was thanked for the pot, modestly revealing that she had had assistance. That was Anna, she supposed.

"Are you going to write anything about this weekend?" Raine asked her. He was curious about that, not knowing how much a journalist could suppress.

They were seated a little apart from the others, with there not being enough chairs at the table to accommodate all of them. She looked at him. "I don't think so."

"Doesn't your paper want you to investigate?"

"Probably."

"So you ought to be writing about her new lover."

"Her new lover?" Nathalie did not know of any others.

"He's still new," Raine shrugged. He had no idea if there had been any old ones.

"I'm not going to write about that." He could rest assured now.

"It's relevant, though."

Was he testing her? "And private," she said decidedly. "Whether she has something going on with John doesn't really affect the running of the country, does it? Unless the status quo continues indefinitely."

Raine smiled. "I don't think it will. She's too frightened without him and besides…Hegge made a clumsy remark in the car once and she mentioned she had principles and she and Seton had a serious talk after we went in, so I think she got him to say yes. He wouldn't say yes just like that, you know. It's not his kind of life, so I'm curious what kind of compromise they decided on." He laughed and looked at the mangled omelette on his plate. It looked more like scrambled eggs. "I'd advise her against making a career out of cooking, though."

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