"She was at the theatre last night, but where is she now? We know of all heads of state where they celebrated New Year's Eve, but not of our own queen," said the editor of the not quite so respectable or intellectual magazine.

"She left the theatre right after the performance. I saw her leave," said a reporter.

"Why didn't you follow her?"

"I figured she was going home. She looked as if she had a headache. I saw some other interesting things, though -- a few guys that looked familiar somehow, and one of them left five minutes after Queen Anna, all by himself, and the other left with Marie-Celeste and someone who looked like a brother of the first one. All tall, athletic fellows."

"Did you follow Marie-Celeste?"

"No, because she wasn't overtly chummy with them and I thought they were her bodyguards until I came across some old newspapers this morning. I think the first one, who left shortly after Anna, was John Seton, and the two others were probably his brothers. He doesn't look the same in tennis clothes, of course, but it's got to be him, since apart from her cousin he is the only man Anna has been seen talking with since her father died --"

The editor looked enlightened. "-- and he went shopping with Anna's cousin yesterday afternoon. I got a call from Oriani's. Charles-Louis went shopping there with a man named John. A coincidence, no? Charles-Louis bought him three suits." He had informants at most of the expensive fashion stores who passed on whoever came to shop there, because this generated a lot of free publicity. They were usually able to tell him more details than just what had been bought and how much it had cost. Many people chatted while they were trying on clothes and the shop assistants picked up a lot of interesting gossip. Sometimes they would even call while their customers were still being kept busy, so that a photographer could be despatched to take pictures of them. It had been too late for that yesterday, but nevertheless he knew exactly what Charles-Louis had bought and how much it had cost him.

"For the premiere," said the reporter brightly. "So Seton is gay and involved with Charles-Louis, what?"

"Well," said the editor. "That would be a nice triangular relationship, considering that Anna's always been said to be very close with Charles-Louis and Seton was flirting with her the other day. It would be pretty scandalous, but somehow I don't think we're that lucky. It's a bit too springeresque to be true. What if…" he paused to think it over. "What if Anna sent Charles shopping with Seton?"

"Why would she do that?"

"He might not have had the right kind of attire. They bought three suits, by the way," the editor said with a frown. "She's a generous woman, isn't she?"

"The other two might have been for the two who left with Marie-Celeste," the reporter suggested. "I looked it up and he's got at least one brother, whom he plays doubles with. He might have another brother, but he can only play with one, of course."

The editor pointed his finger at the other man. "That's it. Alright. Assuming that they're all Setons, we've got one Seton seen in the company of Charles-Louis and two in company of Marie-Celeste, but none with Anna, which means they are probably connected to Anna. What do we know of Marie-Celeste? She's not involved with any Seton, is she?"

"I'm not sure. Marie-Celeste and Eliane attended the Setons' doubles match yesterday."

"They did?" the editor exclaimed. "The name of Seton crops up far too often to be a coincidence. I'm sensing something here. Why would they do that if neither of the sisters were interested in one of the brothers? They wouldn't go to watch Charles-Louis' new flame, would they? I can't imagine Eliane condoning that anyway. This raises the question of who is interested in whom. What are the other brothers' names?"

"Patrick and I don't know the third."

"So it's either Anna and John or Marie-Celeste and John or Marie-Celeste and Patrick or --" It might be any combination, given the confusing pieces of information they had.

"There was no talk of either of them before Anna met John," the reporter reminded him, pulling out the newspaper with the picture of that meeting.

The editor studied the picture. "Yes, I saw this one. I also heard she offered him the services of the court masseuse, so he was at the Palace on at least one occasion. He might have met Marie-Celeste there. It's possible. Or he might have met Anna there again. The whole relationship doesn't really make sense, though. How did Anna get to introduce him to her family in two days' time? She meets a man, immediately introduces him to her family and gets them to cover up for her right away and to entertain his brothers and buy them suits. It's just unbelievable. Would Eliane accept him just like that? How did he past the test? Everybody's failed that test so far and now there's a Seton and he immediately gets a warm welcome into the most unwelcoming family in the country."

"Maybe Eliane was checking him out at the tennis stadium. Maybe Anna has known him for longer."

"Why then the sudden hurry with the suits? Didn't the tickets for that performance go on sale months ago? Wouldn't they have known about it if she had known them longer? The suit thing seems to indicate that she invited them at the last moment. She must have wanted them there pretty badly if she was prepared to spend a fortune on their outfits and there must have been so very convincing reason for Charles-Louis to advance the money. You don't do that for a casual acquaintance and certainly not for his whole family. I don't think that even a queen would do that and you've got to be pretty strange yourself if you'd accept such a gift from a casual acquaintance." The editor tapped his pen against his teeth while he thought. "You say John left a few minutes after Anna?"

"Yes, not more than five. They were the only two people to leave alone, apart from her chauffeur of course. That's why I noticed him."

"You really should have followed them, René. I'll bet you a month's salary that they went off together. Look at his picture. How old is he? They're the same age and neither of them is ugly. For some people that's reason enough. And look at that picture you came back with last night. I bet nobody knew she could look as gorgeous as that. That dress is a bit on the risqué side for a queen with all that netted fabric, isn't it? She's never worn this sort of thing in public, though Greta believes she's worn this one before to one of those private German balls. Anyway, if I were Seton, I'd know what I'd do, as disrespectful as this may sound about our sovereign."

"But what about Marie-Celeste and the brothers?" the reporter protested. "Why would she leave with them if they didn't have some private party where Anna was going to as well?"

"I'll ring the Palace to see how vehemently they deny it," said the editor. He rose to call from his office and returned a few minutes later. "There was no receptionist on duty and I got an answering machine."

"Figures. Today's a holiday."

"Shouldn't there be someone there to take calls from other heads of state who want to wish Her Majesty a happy new year? What happened to Charles-Louis last night?"

"Oh, he left with David Petersen -- he starred in the play -- and a girl. I think it was David's sister."

"What's wrong with that family? For years they don't do anything and suddenly they're all active on the romantic front? His leaving with David Petersen would rule out any romance between him and Anna, wouldn't it? It's never been confirmed, but I've always suspected that he preferred men."

"But doesn't that mean that Anna knows about them?"

"Unless she's very naive, I think she must know. You can't accompany your cousin to a play and not know his lover is starring in it. David probably got them their tickets as well. It was sold out two months ago, I heard, and they seem to have invited guests at the very last moment. Why didn't you follow Charles-Louis?"

"Uhh…I don't know. I thought he was just getting a ride from David, since Anna had taken the car, because he had arrived in the same car as Anna and Marie-Celeste."

When everyone had finished their breakfast, first Patrick appeared, then Hegge and finally Marie-Celeste. "Have you all eaten already?" Hegge asked in disappointment.

"Who's going to make our breakfast now, ladies?" Patrick asked.

Anna got up. "Anna, don't you dare!" Marie-Celeste exclaimed. "If he wants something to eat, he's man enough to get it himself."

Patrick grinned at her. He looked delighted with the remark. "Thank you. So you saw that, eh?"

She ignored him, although she was puzzled by his behaviour last night and now. He seemed back to being wicked again and she had not made the most fortunate comment she could make. The one called Hegge was already staring at her most interestedly, giving her a conspiratorial smile. He shared a room with Patrick, she suddenly realised, and they had reportedly been talking about women the night before, so it was not unlikely that Patrick had told him that he had encountered her in the bathroom. She blushed in embarrassment and cringed. Not being used to either feeling, she found them very unpleasant and sipped her coffee instead, but it was too hot and she quickly put it down.

"Can you feel?" Patrick asked with interest. "If I cut you, do you bleed? It fascinates me to be in contact with a real princess. Is your blood blue or red?" He took her wrist and held her hand with the palm upwards.

Marie-Celeste stared at him in horror. The idiot was foolish enough to really cut her, she believed. She tried to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he was too strong.

Patrick ignored her pulling and calmly pushed up her sleeve. With one finger he softly traced a vein. "Your veins are blue, but so are mine."

Marie-Celeste felt a tingle down her spine and struggled between finding him extremely presumptuous and liking the sensation. She could not, should not like it. What was even more confusing was that he did not even come across as if he were deliberately trying to rile her. He seemed genuinely interested and she did not know how to react to it.

"My blood is red," said Marie-Celeste as steadily as she could. It was difficult, though, but she had been trained not to show any emotions when it was not appropriate.

"Hegge, you're a vet. Tell me why her veins are blue," Patrick said.

"Sorry, I don't do big animals," Hegge apologised and caught Marie-Celeste's indignant look.

"Well, I'm sure John could compare her to a small animal," Nathalie interjected. "He's really good at that."

"It has to be a spontaneous thought," John protested.

Marie-Celeste left Nathalie and John to their discussion and considering that Hegge paid more attention to that than to them even if he was seated at the breakfast table with them, she took the opportunity to reverse the roles. Patrick should pay for making her feel uncomfortable. In one of his unguarded moments she took his arm and ran her finger over the faint blue lines on the back of his hand that was holding her wrist. "Yours are blue too."

"Yes, that's what I just told you," he said patiently, curling his legs around the legs of his chair to keep his composure.

"Oh." Marie-Celeste felt rather stupid. He had indeed said that a minute ago. "But they are not as visible as mine."

"Perhaps that's because you're reputed to have blue blood," he suggested softly. "And to be different from the rest of us, but you're not, are you? Because you're human. Like me." He paused. This was getting out of hand and he spoke in a different voice. "You'll scream if I pinch you."

Marie-Celeste had been looking down all the while, but she now looked up at him in confusion and pulled her wrist out of his grasp. He could draw her in so easily, but he could also let her go so suddenly when he had enough of teasing her. It was very confusing. What did he want from her?

Anna had been observing them quietly and she had not missed anything of it. She did not know Patrick well enough to be able to read his thoughts, but Celeste was uncharacteristically ruffled. She wondered if she should talk to her sister about it, but then she decided against the idea, never knowing how to bring such a subject up and not knowing whether Celeste would appreciate it if she did. Her thoughts soon wandered off in another direction and she grabbed a notebook to draw on.

"What's that?" asked David, who was sitting next to her.

"It's for John."

"Should he be happy?" Marie-Celeste asked a little snappily. "Anna draws like a six-year old." She had left the breakfast table to join the others.

She had not quite recovered yet, Anna noted with complaisance. "Laugh all you like. It's not for you."

John took a peek at what she was drawing. "What a bright six-year old you are."

The fact that he could see what it was going to be when she had only drawn two boxes made her smile. She had not even written anything in the boxes yet.

"Is it a diagram again?" Nathalie inquired. She was sitting next to John and they were both able to see what she was doing.

"Sometimes that's easier than talking," Anna mumbled self-consciously, kneeling by the low table and bowing her head over her sheet.

"You shouldn't let such nonsense take the place of words," Marie-Celeste commented. "Talking is still the primary mode of communication."

Anna raised her head with a skeptic expression. "Is it, Cel? She had just been witnessing her sister communicate in a rather different way. But Celeste did not understand what she meant. She sketched quickly, using only cryptic abbreviations for words and then handed the notebook to John, unaware that the whole room had been watching her progress.

"And now," Patrick declared. "John is forced to give an opinion and say that he understands it while it's all abracadabra to him."

"I don't pretend, Patrick," John answered calmly as he studied Anna's diagram and snickered at a certain part of it.

"Do you understand it?" Anna asked anxiously. "It's not really perfect."

"Yes, I understand it. Apart from these two letters." He showed her. Anna sat down next to him and whispered in his ear what they meant. "Ahh. I see." He mischievously drew something else on the page and made her laugh.

"You saw it too?" she asked.

"She didn't understand you, but I did." He ran a finger over her hand to illustrate his point. "It doesn't nearly have the same effect, does it?"

"The intention is different," Anna replied. "We are different."

"True." John modified Anna's diagram slightly. "Do you want this? No? Continue with question six. It's like a survey."

"I could make a multiple choice test," Anna suggested. "And then code it with points so that if you count up your points it will give you an answer. I've done dozens of those. Answer one: you'd be ideally suited to this partner. Two: you'd really have to make an effort. Three: it'd have its ups and downs. Four: don't even think about it."

John coughed. "Are you thinking of rigging the scores to steer certain couples in a certain direction?"

"No. You're obviously not a social scientist. Not that I'm one, but for my statistics courses I've had to make surveys. The key lies in the answers. The wording of the questions and the optional answers given -- that's what determines the outcome of the test."

They were speaking so softly now that people had stopped paying attention to them, apart from an occasional curious glance. "Please select the option that comes nearest to your answer. Question one -- wait," said John. "Is this test for men or for women?"

"Both."

"One. I suppose we have to assume they're in love, so we needn't ask. One. How do you know your object?"

"Object?" Anna raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Your potential lover," John corrected and wrote it down. "A) it's a good friend. B) it's your best friend's parent. C) it's a complete stranger. D) it's a person you regularly see in the supermarket. E) your sibling is married to their sibling. F) it's a person you work/study/play with. G) it's an internet friend. Have we covered everything?"

"No need. As long as we have the required answer. The rest is all a decoy anyway," Anna said, suppressing a grin.

"How big is the age difference between you and your potential lover?"

"A) less than ten years. B) less than five years. C) --"

"Less than five is also less than ten," John commented. "We should say 0-4, 5-9 and so on. Again, it doesn't really matter as long as we award the crucial points to the right answer."

"As if nobody's going to notice that," Anna said, suddenly in doubt.

"They won't notice it because --" suddenly he lost his train of thought and he frowned. "Well, because we think something might work and we score those answers accordingly and why do we think they might work, because we've seen them in real life and we think it's inevitable, or logical if you wish for those answers to have a certain result. We're fitting the test around real life. Does that make sense? Probably not…"

"Alright…A) 0-4 years. B) 5-9. C) 10-14. D) more than 15. Hmm…there would be a difference between fifteen and sixty. I'd think fifteen would have a viable chance, whereas sixty…" Anna laughed. "Maybe A) 0-10. B) 11-20. C) 21-30. D) 31-40. E) 41-50. F) more than 51?"

"I don't see any difference between 50 and 51. Why don't we just stick to that first thing we had? Next question."

"Umm…have you met your lover's mother yet?"

"Why the mother?"

"Because my father is dead. No, because mothers will be more interested in such things. A) no, and I never will. B) no, because my lover is ashamed of me. C) yes, and I hate her. D) yes, and I like her. E) no, she's dead/in prison. F) yes, she's my ex."

"Great options," he said dryly. "Which one is our target answer?"

"It's got to be B). Our target answers needn't be ideal. D) would be the ideal answer."

"We need a real decoy question, in which they can answer that they hate each other's guts, but which won't have a big impact on the actual score," John decided. "What would apply to the person you have in mind? Choose one answer. A) caring, attractive, humorous. B) untidy, rude, athletic. C) obnoxious, overbearing, educated. D) helpful, polite, intelligent. E) handsome, egocentric, vain. F) charming, wicked, unreliable."

"Excuse me," said Anna. "Have you cut her into little pieces?" Just to be safe, she did not mention Marie-Celeste's name.

"I wasn't thinking about her when I made the answers. Well, to a certain extent I was. I'm curious how she would class him. Do you mean she doesn't fit into any of these categories? Ahh well, who cares."

When John and Anna had finished making the test, they carelessly left it on the table while they went for a game of snow volleyball. Marie-Celeste -- who had been studying them carefully because after all this was her sister and she did not want her to get into any scrapes -- was curious what they had been engrossed in and she picked up the notebook, trying to decipher John's tiny scribble.

G) it's an internet friend.

My potential lover? she wondered. She did not know about any potential lovers, but she did know of one who would never qualify as such and she would take this test to have that firmly confirmed. My relative is married to his relative.

Marie-Celeste frowned. What age was he? She chose A because that seemed most likely.

It would be mean to Anna to answer A, and C to F did not apply, so that left only B. It did not fit either, but it was nicer than accusing Mrs. Seton of being in jail. It was nicer to lay the blame at Patrick's door, although nobody would be ashamed of her. What nonsense. Why had Anna put that in? Was she ashamed of John? She went back to question 1 and tried to figure out what Anna's reasons for the answers had been. As usual, Anna's reasoning was beyond her scope of understanding.

This question was a bit problematic. What happened to the negative qualities? She refused to call Patrick charming, handsome or educated, even if those adjectives were all coupled with negative ones. Perhaps athletic was better. It was more indifferent. She chose B. After all, he was both rude and untidy. He was also obnoxious, egocentric, wicked, unreliable…and more, but she did not want to admit that.

It probably was.

Marie-Celeste had no idea. None of the categories appealed to her.

Teenage girls, definitely. There was no doubt about that.

That was an easy question. She never wanted to set foot in his house ever again. What an awful place! Surely these answers had proved that he was not and would not be interesting, ever? Marie-Celeste was fairly certain of it. However, according to the score list, she had scored 23 points.

Marie-Celeste read it and read it again. At first she had been alarmed by the result, but after reading it a few times, she realised that Anna had made this up and that Anna was hardly an expert. Where on earth did she get the notion of physical attraction when none of the questions had dealt with that? She showed it to Nathalie. "Where does she get that idea?"

Nathalie shrugged and smiled. "I think that she assumed that people would only think of someone they were attracted to and that therefore it needn't be specifically included in the questions."

"Oh, it's just nonsense, I think." Marie-Celeste laid the notebook aside and went upstairs for a book. Reflection on the test would come later.

Nathalie glanced at the questions, but she did not take the test. What would be the use? She was a happily single journalist with irregular working hours. She did not really have time for a man. When Patrick asked for it, she gave it to him, focusing once more on the film the men were watching.

Patrick had become interested in it when he had seen Marie-Celeste study it. He read the questions and counted his points, raising his eyebrows questioningly at some of the answers. He got 27 points.

Well, he had suspected something like that, although if John had been involved in making the test, there would be some catch to it. He could not imagine his brother seriously producing such a thing, not even if Anna insisted on it.

Had the Prime Minister first merely felt indifferent towards Anna, now he began to be seized by a deep resentment.

His wife, who had always been dutiful and exemplary, and who had always been unquestioningly supportive of his career, could not accept or forgive him for his treatment of the Queen, even if she did not know half of what had happened. This was a blow to him, shocking and unexpected, and it was all Anna's fault.

He was always quick to detect his adversaries' weaknesses and to divine ways to benefit from them. This case was no exception. Anna had several weaknesses. Being a woman counted against her, as he did not take them seriously as opponents. Furthermore, she did not have his experience in scheming and conniving. Lastly and perhaps most importantly, he recognised that he could also get at her through Seton. They would not be keen on having their love brought out in the open. He was a cold man and he held them in contempt for succumbing to each other. It was definitely a weakness, a sign of vulnerability.

A few of his minions who were afraid to stand up to him had been ordered to get him any sort of information on Seton, hoping that there would be sordid details in his past that he could leak to the press, the way it often happened in politics. But Seton was irritatingly clean. Until he had met Anna.

Seton had entertained -- that was the only term given by his neighbour, who either refused to speculate or who simply did not have the imagination for it -- a woman at his flat last night. The PM was rather good at speculating, however, and he immediately saw the potential of the situation. It would be shocking enough if it had been Anna, but even more shocking if Seton was cheating on the Queen while he was having an affair with her.

He ordered the news to be leaked to the press, but this proved to be more difficult than he had anticipated. A more republican-oriented newspaper finally accepted the story -- for he had ordered that only the serious press be approached, because the tabloids would not be believed anyway -- but this would not nearly have the same impact as if it had been published in a royalist paper.

The royalist paper decided to verify the facts. Just because they were supportive of the monarchy and the Royal Family and they did not want to publish any negative news about them, they still wanted to know what was going on. They phoned a few people and finally got through to Anna's PR advisor.

He was trained to deny all speculations, but just in time he remembered Anna's words, when she had surprised them all with her altered behaviour. You will not give out any statements to anyone until you receive orders from me. "I cannot say anything about that. I'd have to consult Her Majesty herself," he said tentatively. "She has taken to prescribing us what we can say." He still did not know what to think about that. It made him a little useless.

"Is that why the press were so sparingly and concisely informed?"

"She's not a woman of many words."

Anna was aware that she was the one who was doing all the taking and not much of the giving, and she was not entirely comfortable with it. Take their playing volleyball out in the snow, for instance. It was never she who had gone to fetch the ball if it was hit too far away, because she was afraid to leave the immediate surroundings of the house. John had not said anything about it and he had gone every time when she did not stir, but she was not sure that he knew why she did not move and there was something that held her back from telling him. She did not want to upset him or to have him think poorly of her, because of her stupid fears. She did want to do the same for him as he did for her, but that was nearly impossible, as he did not seem to need any support or comfort.

John saw her choke back a sob when they went back inside and he was puzzled. He was torn between wanting to know what was bothering her and not wanting to intrude. If Anna needed him, she would come to him, he hoped with an uncertain expression on his face when he stared after her as she went upstairs. Had she not enjoyed herself outside? He had been thinking that she had, but could he have misread her so much? There had not been anything wrong with her outside, except that she did not want to go and fetch the ball if it had rolled away, but he had put that down to laziness. He did not particularly like laziness, but he was sure he could forgive it in Anna. Was she lazy? He had never noticed it, but he did not know if she disliked physical exertion when he thought about it. Did she play any sports regularly? Her figure would imply that she did -- he berated himself for immediately thinking of her figure, when, as he realised a second later, they had played football last week and she had been running actively then. He was relieved to remember it, but this still did not mean that she did it regularly. Again, her figure -- he did not seem able to get away from that, so he gave in and tried to picture her from memory -- her figure was the figure of someone who kept in good shape by exercising. Someone snapped his fingers and the picture was lost. He stared at the person in annoyance.

"Were you very far away?" Patrick asked.

"I was thinking," John mumbled. "I'm beginning to think -- no, I should talk to Louis."

"You're thinking and yet you're also beginning to think? I think that's very dangerous. Those two lines of thought might clash."

"Yes," he said absentmindedly, picking up the test he and Anna had made. Perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to take it himself, although he did not really want to know the result, in case it was disappointing -- in case it was purely a physical attraction. He took it, wondered about the last questions, that were indeed a bit bizarre, and then counted his points, breathing a sigh of relief when he came out with 28 points, only barely within the ideal score. Still, the fact that it was only barely beyond the mere physical attraction did not bode well. It meant that he did not know Anna all that well. He knew that. He could not possibly know her inside out already. And yet they were rushing ahead as if there was no time to lose. Not that the test was indicative of anything, he realised that fully. They had made it themselves and it was not meant to be taken seriously, but he still had to be mindful of the implications of having to answer to the first question that Anna had been a complete stranger to him. He had cheated on that one, but when he considered what he ought to have answered now, he realised that some people, including himself, might think him a lunatic. He would not even have got 26 points if he had been truthful.

The others gave him a few curious looks, but he did not react and they returned to listening to Rosita, Hegge and Charles-Louis discussing some meaningless topic.

Rosita was a nice girl, but her incessant cheerful chatter grated on John and he got up, walked to the sink and washed his hands, not really knowing why he would do so. He took a long time doing that and it was no wonder that somebody should come up to investigate.

"Are you alright?" asked a voice at his elbow.

John turned and was surprised to find Charles-Louis standing there. No, he was not alright. It was a good thing that his thoughts were being interrupted, but not a good thing that he should be thinking them at all. "Yes."

"Really? You looked pretty downcast after you took that silly test. Where is Anna?"

"I don't know where she is."

"Is something wrong?"

"I was just thinking that --" John winced. "-- it might be a purely physical attraction between us. How well can I know her after such a short time? Am I just fooling myself?"

"Hmmm," said Louis pensively. "Even I can see she has a pretty face, but I'm not interested in Anna in that way and yet Anna is one of my best friends. There must be a lot more to her then, wouldn't you say? You'd be a fool if you didn't know that. Well, assuming that I'm particular about my friends. You wouldn't know that, of course, but I think I am. There aren't many people you can really depend on and I'm not sure that people can really depend on me, except for a few, because when I think about it, I'm not sure I'd do everything people asked me to do, but in general, when Anna says she'll do something, she'll do it and in a lot of cases she'll even do it when she says she won't do it. She'll start out by saying no and then she'll do it anyway, which is much better than all those people who earnestly promise to do something and then don't do it. Do you know what I mean?"

"I think so," he said doubtfully.

"I was very vague, I suppose, but I'm not really used to analysing her character," Charles-Louis apologised. "I take the girl for granted, I suppose. I meant to say, I think, that she is sort of reliable. Why do you think you're only attracted to her physically?"

"Isn't that a logical fear? Given our pace…"

"Well, I'd surely wonder if the two of you were all over each other all the time, but you're not. The two of you have the same little change coming over you when you speak about each other as I do when I speak about David -- I was going like, "wow, they have it too." I'm no expert, but we are doing fine and if you two have the same, then you have to be doing fine too."

John thought about it and he smiled. It was true that he seemed compelled to smile when he said the word Anna or when he even thought about her.

"There," Charles-Louis nodded at him meaningfully when he saw the other's face light up. "It's happening again, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"It's quite a different look from the one your brother has when he looks at Celeste," Charles-Louis continued. "He can barely keep himself from drooling."

John choked and started laughing.

"Did you know they had an illicit encounter in the bathroom?" Charles-Louis said conspiratorially. When the other looked incredulous, he continued. "I was going to the bathroom last night, but someone beat me to it and just before the door closed, I heard Celeste ask somebody what he was doing, very shocked, and then he replied he was only trying to save her from being compromised and that he didn't want to be seen, because I suppose he had heard me coming, and then she snapped that she didn't want to be seen in Bugs Bunny boxer shorts either, so I knew it was him, because before we went to bed, we sort of got to talk about boxer shorts, I can't remember how, and he had mentioned he had cartoon figures on them. Well, I didn't hear any more, because they spoke very softly after that," he said regretfully. "I'm not sure what happened. You missed all the fun by going to bed so early," he said in a sympathetic tone and laughed.

"Oh well, I had fun before that," John answered. "I had a busy day, playing, having to talk to some committee, going shopping with you, going to the play, going home and…umm…yeah, and then coming here. About those suits…"

"Don't mention them," Charles-Louis waved. "Anna will pay me back. Or are you really proud and you don't like accepting gifts?"

"I'd feel very uncomfortable if I were showered with expensive gifts without being able to return the favour. I think I can only just bear this one…"

"It's not the gift per se. It's that she wanted you there. You shouldn't see it as if she was trying to persuade you with a gift -- she wouldn't. But she wanted you to be there and this was the only way to get you there. I don't think she even considered how you'd be feeling -- I'm sorry, but she can be a little selfish -- or that it was really meant as a gift. I'm not sure I'm explaining it well."

"I think I understand it. She said it was a trifle, but it's not a trifle to me." John sighed. "Even though I'm guilty of the same kind of feelings. I accepted it because it would give me the chance to see more of her, as if I hadn't seen her yet at all that day." He smiled deprecatingly at his own motives. "That was selfish too."

"You'd be a very odd couple -- in fact you'd be no couple -- if you didn't want to see each other as often as possible during the stage you're in," Charles-Louis commented. "Of course you'd have to have little breaks, such as now."

"Do you think I could go up and see her?"

"Although she likes to be alone, there are some people who may always disturb her, she told me once."

"Would I be one of them?" John asked.

"You'd better be, otherwise you'd never ever get to talk to her. She's more often alone than not. It can't be healthy."

"I don't know. I like that too and I don't think I'm too unhealthy."

Charles-Louis chuckled. "Not physically, no, but mentally? I'd drive myself crazy, but you might be different. You can go up and see whether she likes your interrupting her solitude."

"I will. And thank you," John said quietly. "For the talk."

"Any time."

John went upstairs and found Anna on her bed, phoning to somebody in French. He guessed it was to her mother and he did not want to eavesdrop on their conversation. He understood too much French to be able to sit next to her without knowing what was being said. It was difficult to step away, however, because there was something very mesmerising about the sound of the melodious torrent of words passing her lips. He leant against the doorpost and listened, without actually hearing what she was saying. When there was a faltering, he raised his head and looked at her. Was his presence preventing her from speaking freely? "Should I go?" he asked.

"Attends, Maman," Anna said into the phone and then covered it with her hand. "What?"

"Do you want me to go?"

"Why?"

"Because your speech was flowing so nicely and then it suddenly stopped. I thought it had something to do with me."

Anna raised her eyebrows. "Have you been listening to what I was saying?" Apparently not, or else he would have known that she had stopped talking because she had finished telling her story, but she thought he understood French.

"Not to the words, only to the sound," he replied a little shyly. "I just like the way you talk, that's all."

Anna looked down even more shyly and smiled. "Umm…" she realised that her mother was still waiting. "Deux secondes, Maman," she said quickly and then covered the phone with her hand again. "You don't have to go. We're not talking about anything very serious." She resumed her phone call and ended it ten minutes later.

The end of it had the same trance-like quality as the earlier part and John had enjoyed listening to it. Anna had noticed his dreamy state and she was almost sorry to replace the receiver onto the bedroom extension. He looked a little startled when she snapped her fingers and she laughed. She felt merry enough to do a tumble across the bed and he looked even more startled.

"Do you mind that I bother you if you're alone?" he asked.

"You're not bothering me."

"But Louis said you like being alone."

Anna lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling reflectively. "Oh, I just think that's because I sometimes prefer my own presence over the presence of others, or my own thoughts over other people's thoughts, but you know, if I like you, I might prefer you, and besides, I should mix more. You'd be doing me a favour. Now I do think I'd get fed up with someone following me around, but there's a big difference between being on top of me all the time and coming to see what I'm doing, I think. Yes? Or no?"

"Yes. Definitely."

"I don't mind your coming and if I would, you'd find out soon enough, I think. I've been told that I can be rude," she laughed. "Anti-social might be a better word. Though I don't think I can be really rude to you, or maybe I can, in which case it wouldn't be meant to hurt you, just to be frank."

"Oh."

"Am I already being rude?" Anna wondered.

"You're slightly blunt, but I'm not above bluntness myself."

"So you wouldn't mind it if I said 'Seton, leave me alone?'" She lifted herself up on her elbows.

"I don't know. It would depend on whether you meant it," he answered.

"I think I would mean it. Would you go then?"

"If you meant it, I would. Hmm, I took that test," he said tentatively. "And I only scored well because I cheated. What would that mean?"

"Darling, we didn't make that test with ourselves in mind," Anna reminded him. "If you want a perfect score, I could give you other questions."

"But I would have scored in the physical attraction interval if I hadn't cheated."

"And you're not physically attracted to me?" Anna widened her eyes in mock alarm. "I thought you were…"

"I am, but Annaaaaaaaaaaa…" he said in exasperation.

She jumped off the bed and pulled him into the room, closing the door. "We can't have Celeste overhearing us," she said practically. "She's reading a book next door."

"Why were you crying when we came in?" he asked.

"Oh," she said in embarrassment. "Don't ask."

John could almost see the imaginary shutters come down and he put his hands on her shoulders. "No, I want to know. Did I do something?"

"No," she shifted uneasily and tried to avoid his eyes, but they were looking at her so earnestly that she was afraid that it would hurt him if she looked away and she could not hurt him. "You give too much, that's all. And I give too little," she mumbled.

He said nothing, hoping she would say more if he did not speak, because he did not really know what she meant.

"You overlook far too many of my faults."

"Which ones?"

"Outside…when I let you fetch all the balls…I'm not sure what you thought of that."

"Oh, I thought you were lazy."

"I'm not lazy. I would have gone for them if we hadn't seen those footprints," Anna bit her lip.

"Annaaaaaaaaaaaaa…couldn't you have said so?"

"I was too ashamed of it to tell you," she confessed. "I don't like being so scared."

"I didn't know, sorry," John apologised. "Please tell me next time…I was getting very depressed by thinking that I didn't know you well enough to know if you were lazy or not and then I took that test and I became even more depressed and then I needed to be counselled by your cousin..." There was a flicker of humour in his eyes.

"Don't laugh at that," Anna said teasingly. "He studied psychology, you know."

Anna's mobile rang shortly after. It was her public relations advisor, who called to consult her on the matter of the latest rumour. Madam, I've heard some alarming news. The Morning called me to verify a piece of information that had been presented to them, which, by the way, they're not going to publish, due to its private nature.

"Oh," said Anna. "And what is it?"

Your… the man's voice trailed off.

"My…?" she questioned, looking at the person she thought he was referring to. She was sitting on the bed and he was sitting on the floor. They had not been interrupted in very dignified actions by the call -- one would not expect the Queen to be engaged in judo, or perhaps it was more like acrogym.

She lifted a hand to her forehead. "How would you define 'entertaining'?"

"Which would both be shocking," Anna sighed. "Yes, I see why you called. But…I cannot defend myself in advance -- wait." She turned to John, who had been looking at her patiently, trying to figure out what the topic was. "There are some rumours about your entertaining a woman -- nothing further specified, I think -- in your flat last night, while you're having a relationship with me. They're going to be published."

"Well, yes. That isn't really odd, considering that we have…uhh…a relationship that even that informant knows about," Anna said a little sarcastically.

May I assume, Madam, that since I don't hear the sounds of fighting, you were the one being entertained? He figured that if Anna had not known anything, she would have questioned Seton about it.

"Yes, you may."

John held out his hand for the phone. "The exact nature of the entertainment was not specified?" He wondered how on earth people could know about it. Which one of his neighbours had seen them?

"Well, even if it was, I don't see a problem, really. Not with that. I suppose anyone could imagine that partners occasionally set foot in each other's houses when they're not yet living together. If anyone should be shocked by that, I think they have a serious problem. No, what's worse is that they're actually going to publish that we're together."

"Before we did so ourselves," Anna added.

"Yes, before we did so ourselves," he agreed.

What do you propose? the PR advisor thought Seton had a good point. Of course it was unavoidable that on occasions they would be in each other's house and considering that he had been in hers, it was logical that she should return the visit. You are not at home now, I hope? They know where you live.

"No, we are in one of Anna's houses. And not alone, I might add. How many people are here? Twelve? What I propose…I'm not sure what I propose…Anna, this is your sort of thing. You're the one who proposes," he said humorously.

"No, no!" she protested. "You talk."

John sighed. "Have you got any suggestions?" he asked the advisor.

"I agree. Could you contact the newspapers and find out -- no, that would be giving them the idea that you have something to hide. What would silence do?"

This was news to John and he snickered. "No, really? Are you turning into an absolute monarch, Anna? Censuring your information service?"

Anna looked disturbed. "I wanted to be certain that they didn't say anything I didn't approve of."

"But now…what should they say?"

"I wish everybody a happy new year and I would give a speech if I -- no, I would give a speech if I -- if I did not think that my whole message could be compressed within the following words: I wish everybody a happy new year."

"Is it a tradition to give a New Year's speech?" John asked. "Because if it is, you're being very Anna-ish about it."

"No, it isn't."

"Alright. Write it down then."

Anna wrote it down and he dictated it to her advisor. "It sounds a bit odd to me, but that's what she wants to say."

It skirts the issue, the advisor remarked. The public will be pleased to hear that she's been thinking about them.

"Your benevolent monarch," John commented sarcastically, or as sarcastically as he could make it sound, which was not all that sarcastic, considering that his tone was softened a great deal because he was looking directly at the subject of his speech.

John stuck out his tongue at Anna because of what he was going to say next. "I may criticise her -- I have a British passport and I'm not one of her legal subjects. No, but you are right. She's very sweet and she wouldn't want anyone to have a bad year. Actually, I like the message," he said. "Have a happy new year and I don't give a damn about what you think of me. Attack me all you like, but I'll still be nice to you because I'm just a very nice girl."

Anna blushed and buried her face in the covers of her bed. It was very pleasant, but also very awkward to hear him praise her to another person.

"To take up? She's already in that position because she is like that," he said quietly. "I hope you don't think I'm deciding things for her because I'm speaking on her behalf. You of course don't see the faces she pulls at me when I say something bad."

Anna took over the phone. "He's the better…uhh…talker and…uhh…I couldn't say such things about myself…I don't believe them -- he is biased in favour of me, of course."

Yes, that Seton was biased in favour of Anna was very clear and that he was the better talker was no surprise either, although Anna's talking skills had improved considerably. He had heard her speak much worse than this. Madam, are you certain you want us to make that statement? He read it out once more.

"Yes."

Where shall I fax it to? He usually faxed her a copy of any outgoing statement if she was away, before sending it out.

"I don't have a fax here, but you can email it."

John was surprised. He had not known she had a connection here. There was not even a computer in the house. "Where do you email from?" he asked when she had ended the call.

"From my laptop." Anna laid her phone on the nightstand.

"Where's your laptop?" He had not seen that one either, but it was easier to overlook than a computer.

"In the car."

"Yes, I should have known you'd have everything I have and more."

"Do you have a laptop?"

"Yes, I do."

"But not in the car."

"No, at home. I take it with me when I travel, to send emails to my Mummy and Daddy."

"Aww," said Anna. "That's really nice of you. Do you want to send one to them now?"

"I don't know if that's really nice of me. Very often my emails consist of just one line. Not sure if they're so happy with that, but I'll see them tomorrow," John answered with a smile. "But thank you for the offer. Maybe I'll call them later on, if I feel like it. Did you have a nice chat with your mother?"

"I called her -- I had to ask her why she and Celeste went to watch you play yesterday."

"And?"

"My mother says it was her idea, but that Celeste did not object to coming, although she only seemed to have come along to criticise your brother. My mother was getting quite sick of her and she's never going to take Celeste to a tennis match again, but she was very pleased that you smiled at her. Did you smile at her?"

"Yes, I think I did, by way of greeting."

"She was feeling very sorry for Patrick and she thinks he's psychic, because he couldn't possibly hear what Celeste was saying and still he was giving her deadly looks," Anna said innocently.

"Psychic!" John nearly rolled off the bed from laughing and Anna really fell off.

Someone rapped on the door aggressively.

"Come in," Anna hiccuped.

"No!" It was Marie-Celeste.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to know what you're doing, but I just want to tell you that you're being very loud!"

John pulled open the door and she took a step back. "Hi! We're only laughing. What did you think we were doing?"

Marie-Celeste peered past him. "Why is Anna on the floor?" She saw that Anna was clutching her stomach as if she was having convulsions. "Are you alright?"

"Anna fell off the bed because she heard some funny news from your mother."

"My mother is not funny," said Marie-Celeste. "How can Anna possibly fall off the bed because of something my mother said? How can anyone possibly fall off a bed in the first place?"

"Anna, get on that bed, dear," John said. "Let's demonstrate. I've got a little bit of news that you haven't heard yet and that is going to make you fall off, guaranteed." Anna climbed back on the bed and lay waiting in anticipation. He whispered something in her ear and began to laugh almost hysterically again, not quite succeeding in falling off the bed, however.

"Please let me know what was so amusing," Marie-Celeste said stiffly.

"I said that you saw Patrick in Bugs Bunny boxer shorts, and that you might think now that's all he wears." He referred to the kind of boxer shorts Patrick wore. Patrick had only one frivolous pair of underwear and the rest was fairly conservative and not even boxer shorts. John could not really be certain of that, but that was what he had noticed when he and Patrick had shared dressing rooms.

Marie-Celeste stiffened and if she had not had such admirable self-control, she would have walked away. "It was all he wore," she said calmly. She would kill Patrick. Patrick was a dead man. He would not be able to end up more dead. He would not be able to tell anyone afterwards. He would never be able to disturb people's peace by creeping up on them in boxers ever again.

Anna raised a tear-stained face from the bed. "Oooooooooh oooooooooooh," she gasped. "Did he look good in them?"

"You think it's very amusing, don't you?" Marie-Celeste asked disdainfully. "I am above such juvenile pranks. If Mr. Patrick thinks he can upset me by behaving in such a despicable manner, he is sorely mistaken. I would be able to remain perfectly indifferent to him even if he were undressed." Maybe that was not a wise thing to say, she realised. That stupid test must be influencing her unconsciously, with its result of physical attraction. There was no physical attraction. None whatsoever. Really. The others were giving her strange looks and they were snickering already. But she had to keep her composure. Patrick was going to die. Painfully. Slowly. Fatally. Never to be seen again.

"An admirable quality," John choked. "But don't you know that you show far more resemblance to a volcano than to an iceberg?" He was certain that she was going to erupt at some point.

Marie-Celeste gave him a haughty stare and walked away. Instead of running to Patrick to give him what he deserved, she made a shocking discovery when she reflected on her feeling of displeasure with the outcome of the conversation. While she was wonderful at the superficial contacts that came with the job and Anna was not, she wondered if she was did not resemble Anna a little after all. It had never occurred to her that she was just as incapable as Anna when it came to some contacts. Whereas Anna withdrew into her own shell, she retreated behind her mask of haughtiness. They were two different, but very similar strategies, she realised suddenly. The thought of being incapable at anything was a severe blow to her. She was not used to it and she had always had a high opinion of her abilities, with good reason. She was only able to breathe in short bursts and soon she would begin to cry. Not three paces later her eyes filled with tears and she hardly saw where she was going, but she had to go. Away from here. Out. She had to go out. Blindly she grabbed her coat, maybe it was Anna's coat, but she did not care. That there was one very startled person in the hall was something she did not even notice when she pulled the door shut behind her.

She had always been confident and self-assured, but now she had been made painfully aware of her shortcomings. They had laughed at her, because they obviously thought she was ridiculous, she thought as she trudged through the snow. It hurt that they laughed at her and that she had no idea how to handle that. It hurt that they ridiculed her. It hurt that she was not perfect. It hurt to realise that she had the same sort of flaw that she always criticised Anna for.

Patrick stared at the closed door. She had not even seen him. He would not have expected her to acknowledge him anyway, but in this case he believed that she truly had not seen him. She had come down, choking on her breaths and with eyes so full of tears that her hands could not even find her coat. And then she had blinkingly fumbled with the doorknob and gone out. What had happened? It shocked him to see her like that. Was that cool and composed Marie-Celeste? He was still standing in the same position when John and Anna came downstairs. "What was that all about?" he managed to say. "What was wrong with Marie-Celeste?"

"We were not very nice to her," Anna said contritely. "Shall I go and apologise? I don't want her to be upset with me."

"It wasn't that bad," John said doubtfully. "I can say the same to Patrick without him getting upset."

Patrick shook his head uncomprehendingly. "What did you say to her?"

"I told her that I had told Anna that Celeste had seen you in your Bugs Bunny boxers."

He had been right. Patrick did not get upset. If he did become a little uncomfortable, it was not because he had been seen, but because he recalled the general sensation of discomfort that he had had, standing there in that bathroom. "Why would that make her cry?" He did not understand it.

"Cry?" Anna asked with huge eyes. "What do you mean?"

"She cried."

"She doesn't cry."

"She cried," he repeated a little more tersely.

"Why?" Anna exclaimed. She was shocked that she had maybe made someone cry and she almost began to cry herself. "I didn't mean to laugh so hard. Honestly. But I didn't know she was going to cry."

"Anna, please!" said John. "All I said was that she saw Patrick in Bugs Bunny boxer shorts and that she might think now that that's all he wears. I don't see why you should blame yourself for making her cry just because you laughed at such a remark! Who would cry because of that? Certainly not Marie-Celeste! She could even give a witty reply to it! I really don't see why she would cry. It couldn't have been because I said she was more like a volcano than an iceberg either."

"Are you saying she wasn't crying?" Patrick demanded. "I know what I saw!"

"No, all I'm saying is that I don't know what we've got to do with it, so don't look so aggressive."

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