The cold wind bit almost as viciously as Marie-Celeste's humiliation and anger. It began to snow again and the ice-cold snowflakes blew into her face. She bent her head as she walked in the direction of the woods. The trees would shelter her from all those people who had dared to ridicule her and who had seen through her. To think that they had seen through her even before she had was painful and embarrassing. They had seen that her image was an illusion. All this time she had been thinking that she was strong while she was weak. She was weak. She was not perfect. Tears mingled with the snowflakes on her face and her throat was constricted. Still she did not cry freely.

All factors conspired against her suddenly, she thought as she reached the edge of the wood. Her self-chosen image compelled her to always wear skirts, but it was terribly cold and her shoes and tights were soaked. If she could only have been more like Anna and worn jeans, then none of this would have happened. Instead, she had looked at Anna's habits of dress with a critical eye, not really approving of them. Everything she had ever said about anyone else came back at her with a vengeance. Her teeth clattered and she was glad that the branches had kept most of the snow from falling on the path. It was relatively easy to walk over. If only she could reach that bench halfway the path before she could not see anything anymore due to her tears, then she could sit down and think.

Marie-Celeste sobbed finally with long, hysterical howls when she sat down on the bench, not caring that it was covered in snow. She was just as bad as Anna. She was doing everything she used to hold Anna in contempt for. Not only was she crying, but she had suddenly become aware that the problem had not been with stupid other people, but within herself. No wonder that it had been so easy to criticise Anna for it -- she knew how it worked, even if she did not recognise it in her own behaviour, she thought bitterly.

But it had been so easy to think that she was special, that she was different from everyone else, because they all treated her as such. It had never occurred to anyone to think that she did not or could not really talk to people -- because I have some kind of personality defeeeeeeeeeeect, she sobbed. Everyone had accepted her haughtiness, they had thought it was normal and acceptable, everyone, except…what had he said again? Do you bleed? Is your blood red? Oh God, noooooooooo, she wailed silently. Hasn't he humiliated me enough? He would gloat. He would laugh. He would say it serves me right. And Anna? Anna would understand her. Perhaps. And John? He had evidently not heard the entire story, because what he had said had not been as bad as that, but still...

What should she do now? She thought about it. She definitely did not want to see other people. Maybe it would be best if she sneaked back quietly and hid herself in her room until morning. It was stupid to stay out in the cold, even though she felt very martyr-like.

Patrick put on his coat and left the house. It was not difficult to follow her trail, with the clear imprints her shoes had made. She was not dressed to go out. How cold she must be! He shivered as he pulled his scarf up a little higher.

He saw her just before he entered the woods. She came stumbling out of them, her head bent low and her hands hidden deep in the pockets of her coat. Because he did not move aside, she stumbled right into his arms.

Marie-Celeste looked up and emitted a low groan. "Just when you think you can't sink any lower, this happens."

Patrick grabbed her when she tried to walk away from him. He lifted up her face that she valiantly tried to hide from him and took in the blue, trembling lips and the black mascara trails running down from her eyes, contrasting with the paleness of her skin. The face looked cold and lifeless and even her eyes did not look as fierce as they usually did. Something had broken her spirit, but he was not foolish enough to try and find out what it was here in the cold. "If you can't sink any lower, you can only go up," he replied curtly. "And up you go," he said, lifting her up at the waist and carrying her over his shoulder.

"P-P-Put me d-d-down, you obnoxious c-c-caveman!" she cried, punching him in his back.

He listened to her clattering teeth as she spoke. When they got to the house, he put Marie-Celeste down to her feet and unlocked the door, keeping one arm around her shoulders so she would stay put. Apparently she had decided to become wise and she stayed put. He dragged her upstairs to the bathroom next to her room and turned on the taps for a bath and the heating as far as he could. Then he looked at her. She was looking straight ahead, sitting perfectly still except for her blinking eyes and clattering teeth. The way her mouth was set indicated that she was not pleased, but Patrick was not daunted by that. When was she ever pleased?

Marie-Celeste allowed him to take her hand out of her pocket and she did not stir when he rubbed it. It was ice cold and he wished the heating would begin to warm the room soon. He reached past her to the roll of toilet paper. He wet a bit with a little water and then turned her face towards him to wipe off the make-up stains. Again she allowed it to happen without protesting. It puzzled him. She should have hit him unconscious by now. When her face was clean, as clean as he could make it, he let her look straight ahead again. The temperature in the room had not yet begun to rise significantly and yet he was getting warm, but she could not be getting warm -- her clothes were wet too.

The bath was filling nicely and he took off her coat and shoes, both he and she staying silent all the while. She was wearing a skirt and a blouse, with a jacket over it. He took off the jacket as well, but decided against removing more clothing when he felt her stiffen. He merely lowered her over the edge fully clothed. Clothes could be washed and it was no disaster if they got wet, but at least now she could not reproach him for anything.

Marie-Celeste gave the first sign of life when she realised his intention. "What are you doing?" she squeaked in alarm.

Patrick knelt by the bath and pushed her down. "Don't mind your clothes. They're only getting wet."

"Exactly!"

"Stay in until you're back to your normal temperature again and I don't mean your normal icy self, but I mean your human body temperature."

"I can't help being icy," she said sadly. "I have a personality defect. I'm not perfect."

The horror with which this was spoken amused Patrick. "But darling, would you say I'm perfect? I bet you wouldn't. I bet you could find a whole lot to criticise about me, but does that make me react in the same terribly overblown manner you're reacting to the discovery that you're not perfect? I knew you had a problem, but that you thought you were perfect really beats everything."

"I knew you would humiliate me and laugh at me."

He noted with approval that some of the colour came back to her cheeks and that her lips began to lose their bluish tinge. "If I had really wanted to humiliate you, I would have displayed you in the living room, to show everyone what a scarecrow I had found outside. Instead…"

"I don't want to think about it." Marie-Celeste pressed her lips together.

"Instead I take you home unseen, wipe your face clean, get you warm, get you into this bath in the nicest possible way without taking your clothes off; in short I save you from freezing to death because I felt compelled to, God knows why, because you're the most unfeeling and arrogant ice princess I have ever seen, I even pour out my heart to you when you don't even know what a heart is and you call all this humiliating you? There is only one person that is being humiliated and that is me." Patrick paused to catch his breath. He was getting carried away by his feelings. "Wouldn't life be much easier if feelings did not exist? It would surely be a whole lot easier for me. Then I wouldn't have to degrade myself in this manner. Life must be so easy for you."

"Just let me dieeeeeeeeeee," she pleaded. This humiliation was too terrible. But what was he going on about? He felt compelled to save her?

"No! You shall hear me out."

"No! If you don't kill me, I'll drown myself."

"&*&##%! You stupid twit!" he dragged her up when she slid under water. "Don't play such games with me."

"I don't want to hear any more of your criticism. I can't take it!"

"Fine person you are!" he retorted. "You criticise everyone in sight, but the moment they look at you, you can't take it! Is that fair? Hypocrite!"

It was difficult to see whether her face was wet from the bath water or from tears or possibly from both. "I'll admit to being a bad person," she choked. "That's what I said earlier, didn't I? But you didn't listen. I'm not perfect. Oh God! I want to die."

"Don't you dare!"

"Why not? You hate me!"

"Yes, I do! With all my heart! At least I have one." This arguing was not good for a man's heart, Patrick reflected as he felt his pulse race. Women were not good for a man's heart. Damn women.

Marie-Celeste's tears streamed down her face now. "I have one, honestly."

"No, you don't. You're made of ice. All those tears are just ice that is melting because the bath water is hot."

She shook her head stupidly. "No, no, no!" She clasped his arm with a wet hand.

"Twit! You're making me wet!" he cried. He wished he had not taken off his coat, but it had been so hot in here.

"Feel it! It's not ice."

He folded his arms and refused to feel her hand. "No, I won't. I know you're made of ice and I don't need any proof."

"Stubborn fool! Man! Always thinking you're right. Well, you're wrong! I'm not made of ice." Marie-Celeste began to splash water at him and before he knew it, he was soaked through.

Patrick had been taken aback at first, but he soon grew upset with her. Although he could not get her any wetter than she already was, he could turn on the cold water tap and hold her under it. Marie-Celeste screamed as if she was being killed and this naturally drew the attention from other people in the house.

"Patrick!" Anna cried. "John?" she called anxiously. "Get him out of here." When John had removed Patrick, who did not even struggle, she approached the bath and looked at her sister. Once so dignified, now completely soaked and humiliated. It was a shock to her to see it. "Cel? What happened?"

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him," Marie-Celeste moaned.

"Start from the beginning," Anna said gently, leading the dripping Celeste out of the bath and into her bedroom. She threw a few towels on the floor and made her to stand on those while she tried to take off Celeste's clothes.

"I found out that I'm flawed," Celeste sniffed.

"Flawed? In what way?" Anna had finally managed to unbutton the blouse and she wrung her sister's arms out of it. Celeste was not flawed.

"I'm dysfunctional!"

Anna did not understand her. "How?"

"I can't communicate! I thought that was only your problem, but I can't do it either! I can't hold a normal conversation with a person! I can't! I can't laugh with them!"

"Are you upset because we laughed at you?" Anna asked quietly, but at the same time she was taken aback by her sister's words. She can't have a normal conversation with a person? She had never noticed Celeste having any problems with that. "We're really sorry about laughing," she added, in case that was the core of the problem.

"I'm upset because you see through me and you find me ridiculous and I never even noticed!"

"We don't." Anna looked puzzled.

"Yes, you do, Anna," said Marie-Celeste, stepping out of her skirt when Anna motioned for her to do so.

Anna worked silently and handed her a towel and a bathrobe. She did not know what had got into her sister's mind.

"And when I left you, it suddenly struck me: I'm as dysfunctional as you are and I've been criticising you for something that I'm guilty of myself. I don't mean that I shut myself up in my little cocoon when someone talks to me, but that I become very snappy and arrogant. Do you know what I mean? I can't help it. I thought it was them, but now I see that it's me. It's because everybody lets me get away with it and don't you see how stupid that makes me?"

"And where does Patrick come into all of this?" Anna asked as she picked out a set of dry clothes for Celeste. She gave them to her and ordered her to put them on. Her sister was indeed snappy and arrogant at times, but to state that this was an automatic reaction to being spoken to would be taking things too far, in Anna's opinion.

"He found me outside. I don't know what he was doing there. He carried me to the house and he took me to the bathroom and he -- he -- he --"

"He never said anything?" Anna was intrigued. Their conversation would have been most interesting.

"Not until after I had protested against him throwing me into the bath with my clothes on. He told me I shouldn't say anything because they were only getting wet."

"Why did he do that?"

"He probably thinks I'm ugly!" Marie-Celeste wailed. "And less ugly with my clothes on!"

This reaction puzzled Anna too. Celeste could not possibly have meant that she would have liked to be undressed. Impossible. "And then what?"

"And then we got into an argument, about who was humiliating who and he said that I didn't have a heart and that I was made of ice and so I wanted him to feel my hand. But he refused and so I got angry with him and splashed water at him."

"Oh, Cel!" Anna sighed. If her sister were not so terribly upset by it all, she would laugh.

"I wanted to die, Anna," Marie-Celeste said softly. "You have no idea how humiliating it is to lie in a bath with your clothes on, just having found out that you're not perfect, with this immense moron going on about how he is humiliating himself by taking care of you. You -- have -- ab -- so -- lute -- ly -- no -- i -- dea."

"I understand that you wanted to die, Cel, but what I don't understand is why you're so upset about not being perfect? Nobody is perfect and you're more perfect than most."

"I was perfect and now I'm not! I have a problem! It wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't always looked down on people for having that problem."

"You don't have a problem," Anna said decidedly. "At least not of the magnitude you think it is."

"I can't talk to people. I scare them off by being haughty and critical. Nobody is ever going to talk to me the way -- I don't want to be jealous of you." Marie-Celeste pulled on her dry clothes and Anna began to loosen her hair. She accepted the choice of clothes that Anna had made, swallowing at the thought of having to appear in trousers.

Anna brushed her sister's hair. "It's true that you're very critical, but once you let them in -- once you get to know them better, I'm sure that you'd discover that there's much more to praise than to criticise."

"But I can't let them in, as you put it," Marie-Celeste said in exasperation. "I just can't."

"I used to think that too. You must know that. But it has become easier. Some people go in without you noticing," Anna said kindly. "Suddenly you find that you can talk to them without feeling tongue-tied and then you wonder how they sneaked past your barriers, but they did and then you discover that it's not a bad thing and it opens the way up for more. Once your outlook changes…"

"But he loves you," Marie-Celeste snapped. "Of course you'd let him in."

"I'm not at all sure I should mention this to you, Celeste, because I'm really scared of what the two of you might do to each other, considering that you put each other under the tap, but didn't it occur to you that Patrick might have been trying to tell you something, there in the bathroom?"

Marie-Celeste stood absolutely still. "What do you mean?" she asked immediately.

"From what I gather, he felt humiliated? He said you didn't have a heart? Mon dieu, Cel!" she cried suddenly. "Are you dense? Why on earth would he stay with you if he didn't like you?"

"Because he felt compelled to and he said he didn't know why because I was the most unfeeling ice princess he had ever seen, or something like that." Tears began to form in her eyes again. "He can't like me. He doesn't even know me."

"Then get to know him!" Anna advised. "I can believe he felt humiliated and that he believed you didn't have a heart if that's how you treated him." She hugged her sister when the tears began to fall. "Hush, Cel! It will be alright. What do you really think of him?"

"I don't know," Marie-Celeste sniffed. "He's annoying. I don't know. I can't allow myself to think anything. I don't know."

"Well, I think…" Anna said pensively. "That it was very kind of him to take care of you." She wondered just how much Patrick had to do with this sudden insecurity. After all, he was person Celeste snapped at most.

"Don't tell me I ought to thank him," Celeste said in horror. "I couldn't. That would be too embarrassing. Why can't I ever meet him under normal circumstances? All we do is argue. It all goes well until I open my mouth. I'm cursed! And I love it too!"

"You love arguing with him?" Anna hid her smile. She had never felt like an older sister, but more like a younger sister to Marie-Celeste, until now.

"I suppose so. Why else would I pick fights with him all the time?" Marie-Celeste said dejectedly. "Doesn't that mean I have a problem? I can't talk in a normal way."

Anna rubbed her back. "You can! I've always been jealous of you for that!"

"You have?" Marie-Celeste could not believe it.

"Yes. But not of the fact that you couldn't or wouldn't imagine yourself in someone else's place. Try that and think. You can do it now."

"I can't imagine myself in someone else's place," Marie-Celeste objected stubbornly. "And whose place?"

"I think you can guess who," Anna answered. She sat down on her sister's bed.

Marie-Celeste stood in the middle of the room looking unwilling. "I don't have a clue what he was thinking."

"You are Patrick and I am you," Anna decided and got up. "You have to tell me what you did, though. Maybe it will help if you experience it from his point of view."

"I doubt that."

"What did he -- how did it start?"

"I was coming out of the woods and I was looking down because it was snowing and suddenly he grabbed me."

"He grabbed you?" Anna repeated. "How?"

"Well, like this," Marie-Celeste demonstrated it by colliding with her.

"Oh, so you ran into him. Because…?"

"Because I hadn't seen him. I was looking down. It was snowing. Really."

"Alright. And then what?"

"I said that just when you think you couldn't sink any lower, this happens."

Anna assumed that Marie-Celeste had been crying. Patrick had said she was crying when she left. In Marie-Celeste's eyes you probably could not sink any lower than crying. "What did he say?"

"He said I could only go up if I couldn't sink any lower and then he lifted me up. Over his shoulder!"

"Alright, we shan't try to imitate that," Anna laughed. "Umm…but what -- you're Patrick now -- what are you doing outside? Did you come outside with the sole purpose of finding me?"

"I doubt that."

"He saw you were crying when you went outside. It's not unreasonable. What else could he be doing?"

"I didn't see him." Marie-Celeste refused to accept the idea.

"Just assume that he went outside because he had seen you cry, no matter if you don't believe it. Try to imagine what he would feel. Try to think of someone you would follow if they cried."

Marie-Celeste pulled a face. "I can't think of anyone."

"I was hoping that you'd at least be able to think of me. Just try! You'd be concerned. You're concerned and you want to find this person to -- I don't know what. And then you find her, walking towards you. What do you do?"

"Apparently I get in her way," Marie-Celeste said sarcastically.

"Or she gets in your way," Anna answered unperturbed. "At any rate, you collide with a crying girl --" She saw that Marie-Celeste did not protest, so it must be a correct guess that she had been crying. "-- Who is not really dressed for walking through the snow and who is probably freezing. What do you think? Remember that you're concerned, because you have a good heart."

"Don't mention hearts!"

"Because you're a good person," Anna corrected. "What do you think?"

Marie-Celeste grimaced and pulled faces, looking at the floor. "I'd think --" she paused. "She should go inside," she continued softly, as if she was almost afraid to ascribe any noble thought to Patrick.

"But this girl insults you the moment she collides with you."

Marie-Celeste jerked her head up. "I did?" It had been meant as an insult, but when she thought about it, it was not really called for, because he had not done anything to her yet.

"It wasn't a very nice thing to say," Anna told her. "And yet you don't tell her to go to hell, but you take her inside."

"In what way!" She was still thinking about the insult and his reaction to it. He could indeed have abandoned her and gone back alone, but he had not. Why not?

"I'm not commenting on the way. It was a means to an end. The girl is obviously very stupid. So you take her inside and then what?"

"I…I pull her up the stairs and shove her into the bathroom. No."

"No?" Anna asked.

"He didn't shove me and I should say that I insulted him because I was afraid he would laugh at me."

"Ahh. You were trying to beat him to it. Couldn't you have waited for once?"

"Yes, I should have," Marie-Celeste admitted. "But that's easier said than done. You don't know how he makes me --"

"You are him," Anna reminded her. "How does she make you feel? What would you think about her behaviour?"

"I was concerned, I suppose. That's what you said," she admitted grudgingly. "I took her to the bathroom and sat her down and rubbed her hand because it was cold. She didn't protest -- she didn't protest?" Marie-Celeste cried when she realised this. "She didn't protest and I saw that her make-up wasn't waterproof, so I took a bit of toilet paper and cleaned her face. All the while despising her for being so rich and not having waterproof make-up." She looked at Anna to see what she would say, but Anna did not react. "Oh, and I turned on the heating and the bath. And I took off her shoes and her coat and her jacket."

"And I don't react?" Anna asked.

"No."

"What would you think of that?"

Marie-Celeste tried to imagine herself doing all that to Patrick. "I'm sure he expected to be hit or that she would give him a big mouth."

"But what were you feeling? Or were you just thinking that you needed to get this girl a little warmer?"

"Yes, I'm sure I was thinking that."

"And then what?"

"I didn't want to undress her completely because I was sure she would hit me, so I push her into the bath with her clothes on."

"Excuse me, Patrick. This girl was not protesting during any of your actions, what makes you think that she would start hitting you if you went a little further? Surely by now she would have realised that you weren't after anything? Are you sure you didn't stop there because you were a gentleman yourself?" Anna had no idea if it had been like that, but it could not hurt to make Marie-Celeste consider him in a different light.

This thought confused Marie-Celeste thoroughly. "No, no. It can't be that. I'm sure I would have gone further if I had been sure that she wouldn't have done anything." Or would he? He had not really looked at her when she had encountered him in the bathroom either, had he? And later on he had said something about not having undressed her too. "Uhh, well, maybe."

"And then what?"

"The girl protests and I say…they're only getting wet. And then I say that I only want her to get back to her normal temperature and not her icy self, but her body temperature."

"And that's where it began to go wrong," Anna stated. She knew the outcome and she could see how it could have led to that from this remark. Marie-Celeste would not have let him get away with that. "You had been holding yourself back, hadn't you?"

"What? Me or Patrick?" Marie-Celeste did not know which one Anna was referring to. She herself had been holding back too, she supposed.

"Patrick. Yes, but the girl too. I can imagine that she would be shocked at being pushed into a bath with her clothes on. I can imagine that she would think that he was taking things a little too far now. But Patrick was holding back too -- after all, this is his sworn enemy that he's been treating like his best friend."

"Sworn enemy?" Marie-Celeste looked a little taken aback. She had not really thought of him that way and she had certainly not considered herself to be anyone's sworn enemy. It was a bit of a shock.

"Yes, and when your sworn enemy began to object to being treated nicely -- you were feeling that you were being really nice to her -- you couldn't help yourself," Anna guessed. It was so obvious to her. Why could they not see it themselves?

"So I tell her she has an icy personality, because --" Marie-Celeste paused. "It is true?" Had he really been feeling that he was being really nice to her? Well, he had been relatively nice, compared to his usual behaviour. He had not tried to rile her, indeed until what Anna said, until she had begun to speak. It seemed that things went wrong once one of them opened their mouth.

"Because you want her to acknowledge you, that is more likely," Anna commented. "He doesn't sound too different from his brother. And then what?" She was amazed that Marie-Celeste seemed to have memorised the scene word for word.

"And then the girl admits that it's true. She tells me she's not perfect and then I laugh at her."

"You laugh?" Anna would probably have laughed too.

"Yes, I laugh and I say something like that I'm not perfect either and that she's exaggerating and I completely humiliate the girl." Marie-Celeste thought about what came next. What had it been again? "Oh, yes. And then I say to her that I would have shown her to everyone else if I had wanted to humiliate her because she looked like a scarecrow."

"But you didn't do that because you felt compassion for her, didn't you, Patrick?"

"I'm sure the last thing I'd feel would be compassion," Marie-Celeste said with determination. If he had any compassion, he would not have humiliated her so.

"Not even for a freezing scarecrow? Come on, Patrick…" Anna coaxed. She had to keep a straight face. If she betrayed so much as a twitch of her mouth, Celeste would stop participating and they were doing so well. "You have feelings."

"Well, maybe a little compassion. A very little bit. Not worth mentioning."

"Not enough for the girl to notice, certainly, although I'm beginning to think that the girl was blind. What does the girl do next?"

"I don't think she does anything except trying not to listen because it hurts, because I start enumerating all my heroic deeds, saying that I felt compelled to do all that without knowing why, because the girl is the most unfeeling ice princess I have ever seen and she doesn't know what a heart is and the only one humiliated is me, because she has no feelings. I try to make her feel really bad."

"I'm sure Patrick succeeds," Anna commented. "But how does he feel himself, apart from humiliated?"

"Oh…I don't know. I feel angry, I suppose, because she doesn't show the proper recognition of my heroic deeds."

"Reasonable, isn't it? What do you do, Patrick?"

"She says she wants to die. She is humiliated and embarrassed, but I won't let her die. I pull her up when she puts her ears under water, because I'm not finished telling her all those embarrassing things and I call her stupid twit and when she says she can't stand any more criticism, I say she's a hypocrite because she criticises everyone and she won't be criticised herself. Which is true, I suppose."

"I suppose I'm properly humbled by now, or am I angry?" Anna asked.

"You're properly humbled and hurt and you give in, but I won't let you -- because you're overreacting, I suppose." Marie-Celeste frowned. She really seemed to have made a spectacle of herself. "And then we get into an argument about whether you have a heart or not." She looked at Anna in disgust. "I can't believe that happened. You should cry, I think. I'm probably thoroughly disgusted with you by now and I say you're made of ice and that your tears are just melted ice. I love to torture you and increase your embarrassment and when you tell me you do have a heart, I don't want to hear it, because I'm a man and once I've made up my mind about something, I refuse to change it, however wrong I am. You grab me and order me to feel your hand in order to find out that it's not made of ice, but I push you off and you become really upset and throw water at me. I don't like that and I turn on the cold water and you start screaming."

"Why would you do that?"

"I have no idea. Because I'm thoroughly disgusted with you, I suppose."

"But can you imagine what he was feeling?"

"I'm not sure he can feel," Marie-Celeste said stubbornly.

Anna hoped the whole act had not been for nothing. "Don't lie."

"Alright," Marie-Celeste admitted with tears in her eyes. "I was bad. I misbehaved and I took it out on him. He was an angel. Are you happy now, Anna?" she asked sarcastically.

"No. Because you don't mean that."

"I'm willing to admit that he might have had good intentions and that I mistook his good intentions," she said through clenched teeth. "And that I misbehaved. I'll never be able to face him again."

"Were you really able to imagine what he was feeling or was it just a waste of time? Did it only make you think of your own behaviour and how you came across on him?"

Marie-Celeste closed her eyes. "I was too prejudiced. I --"

"Not you! Him! I know by now what you were feeling!" Anna said in exasperation. "I want to know if you know what Patrick was feeling!"

"He said he felt humiliated."

"But can you understand that?"

"He tried to be nice, but I didn't understand. I would be hurt and disappointed. Maybe frustrated. But humiliated…I don't know. Maybe because he made an effort and I rejected it?" Marie-Celeste asked hesitantly. "He showed me he could be nice and maybe he didn't want to show me that at all, because he was afraid I would not be nice in return? And I wasn't. I never am. I always hide. You said he liked me…" she looked at Anna uncertainly. "Why would he do that if I'm never nice? Maybe he can see through me? Maybe he is always trying to get me to lose my composure? He's always trying to get me to react in a certain way."

Anna shrugged and smiled. "You could ask him."

Her sister looked horrified. "No! I couldn't face him, or anyone else for that matter. What will they be thinking of me?" But Patrick was disappointed in her now because he was thinking that she had no feelings. He had tried to get her to admit that she did, but when she had finally admitted it, he had not wanted to believe her. Maybe she had not done enough. Maybe it had not been convincing. Maybe he had some incomprehensible twist in his brain that made it impossible to be nice when she was being nice, just like she did. But now that he had burnt his fingers, she could not really expect him to try again. He would not risk it another time. He would be suffering in silence or he would be even more obnoxious than ever. She did not know what it would be. But she knew now that she did have some feelings and that some people might want her to show them. She should at least thank him for that. Even if he would be obnoxious about it, she would know that it would register, somewhere underneath, just like it had registered with her. She could face him, she thought, knowing this. But the others…they would have no clue what had been going on. They would be thinking all sorts of strange things. She did not know if she could face them. "I couldn't face the others."

"They wouldn't dare say anything," Anna reassured her. Was she to assume that the difficulty concerning Patrick had been solved?

"Thank you." Marie-Celeste said with an uncharacteristic show of affection. "You've been a great help. I don't think I'll say much in company for a while. My opinion of myself got a few dents."

"It should have improved," said Anna. "If it went right. Please don't think I've been lecturing you. I know I have faults. I just wanted to help you. Are you ready to come downstairs?"

"Yes, I'll tell him I'm sorry. Would that be all right? But what if he attacks me the moment he sees me?" Marie-Celeste worried. "I'm not sure I could keep from defending myself."

"Then I'll kick him," Anna promised her.

"What was going on?" John asked. Patrick had walked away from the bathroom to his room downstairs. The others had all stared after him, wondering why Marie-Celeste had been screaming and if she was perhaps hurt. John had assured them that she was not hurt, only wet, and they had decided to leave the insane people to themselves. The crowd had followed them downstairs, but they had gone back into the living room.

Patrick began to strip off his clothes. He wanted to put on something dry. "I was only making her pay for getting me wet."

"So you were actually playing?"

Patrick considered that. "No. I'd sooner call it an emotional argument."

"What were you arguing about?"

"Oh really, John. I don't feel like telling you. You don't like arguments and people getting overheated. And you'd only tell me that we shouldn't have --"

"What really happened?" John pressed.

"I humiliated myself in front of a woman who doesn't appreciate it. Have you ever tried that? I try to help her and she can do is splash water at me."

"How did you help her?"

"I went outside to look for her and took her into the bathroom because she was frozen, but I should have known that she would remain frozen, because she is frozen through and through. It was all a waste of time. I'm cured. The alluring celestial star turned out to be nothing more than a cold, hard rock when it hit the earth."

"Whoa," John muttered. "And the earth was soft and friendly?" he asked sarcastically.

"Very."

"She might not have expected that." If he knew anything of Marie-Celeste and Patrick, it was that neither would expect the other to be soft and friendly.

"Whether or not she was expecting it is not at all relevant!" Patrick said in an exasperated tone as he climbed onto the top bunk bed. "I was nice, damn her, and it didn't melt her, so nothing can!" He said nothing for a while. "And you still think life with Anna will be great. You might think that you'll get to spend all day with your wife, but you won't, of course."

John lay down on the lower bunk bed because he had nothing better to do. "Well, sketch me a typical day then," he said lazily, not knowing how Patrick had come to this subject so suddenly.

"Your wife would rise early, but not you, since you have no other role than to get her to produce an heir, which means you really don't have anything to do during the day. Maybe you'd have to visit a few things here and there, but you won't be needed until dinner time, when your wife should have an escort -- I mean consort, and you'd have to entertain the other hangers-on, which would most likely be women over seventy."

"Interesting. And once I've done my duty, so to speak?"

"Then you're completely useless, except for those dinner parties, because the child will be raised by the nanny, naturally, and it will not know you or your wife. Maybe both of you will pay a weekly visit to be informed about its progress into becoming a heartless individual and then the three of you will smile insincerely and pretend all is well and then feel very happy with such a pretty little heir to the throne."

Patrick held a rather gloomy view of it all, John thought. He should not let that keep him from going after Marie-Celeste, however. "I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad."

"Well, I don't see your Anna being strong enough to fire half the staff."

"It wouldn't be her business anymore."

"Which is a good thing."

They were quiet for a while, Patrick having idealistic thoughts and John no thoughts at all, because he had fallen asleep. Anna entered and stood watching them with her hands on her hips. She shook her head. "Young man," she addressed Patrick in a stern voice. "Come off that bed."

"What for?" He raised himself up on an elbow too look at her. Her face was slightly lower than his.

She pointed a finger at the wet clothes that he had carelessly flung on the ground. "My carpet. Clean them up. Hang them out to dry."

Patrick looked at her uncertainly. "You don't mean that, do you?"

"Oh yes, I do."

"You couldn't mean that. You're used to having servants do that for you."

"Exactly. I have just appointed you to the honourable position of chamberlain. Now do it."

He gave her another uncertain look and climbed off the bed, reluctantly picking his clothes off the floor one by one. "Are you so nice to John as well or only to me? How did you threaten him when you proposed?" He had always thought of her as a very weak little thing for some reason and he had thought that she had clung to his brother for strength when she had ended up outside her natural habitat without a clue of how to survive there, a suspicion he had never voiced to John, naturally. But she was not little and she seemed to be able to cope very well on her own too.

"I said something like: I should like to warn you about the consequences of your actions. You saw me in my bedroom in a state of considerable undress. While it is possible to overlook such a state once, you ought to keep in mind that a repetition of the compromising incident will most inevitably have serious repercussions and a year from now you will find yourself trying to entertain the wife of the Mongolian president at a dinner party during a state visit to Mongolia where you will have to eat all sorts of disgusting insects."

"So being seen in a state of considerable undress is enough for you predatory spiders to bound and gag the innocent male who unsuspectingly entered your alluring web, is it?" Patrick asked warily. "Am I to expect your sister with the handcuffs soon?"

"You have a lot of self-knowledge to know that you'd need to be handcuffed in her presence," Anna remarked admiringly.

"Yes, or else I might --" Patrick stopped himself just in time. "Or I might not. Where can I hang these?"

"In the other bathroom upstairs there's a washing line. Please, only hang your clothes there and no irritating people if you don't mind?" Anna asked sweetly and laughed at his confused look. She watched him go upstairs. She should stay here -- Marie-Celeste was upstairs, also hanging out her wet clothes.

Marie-Celeste had hung up her clothes, not really liking the task, but since they had not brought any servants, she would have to do it herself. She hesitated when she was done, not really wanting to go downstairs because she still felt acutely ashamed of herself. When she lingered a bit on the landing, Patrick came up.

He saw her and stared, not sure if he should say anything or what he should say.

Marie-Celeste stared back. She could see that he was not thinking very well of her. But she should thank him and if it was impossible to speak because things would get out of hand, then she should try another way. She held out her hand as a conciliatory gesture.

Patrick hesitated and took it. Instead of shaking it, he held it, swallowing any biting remarks that were at the tip of his tongue. Her gesture surprised him. Apparently she wanted to make up or apologise or thank him. He did not know which of the three. And apparently she was not icy, but she had enough feeling to have felt bad about it. Genuinely bad, he saw that in her eyes. Of course I forgive you. He had had a most interesting time in the bathroom, frustrating and enjoyable at the same time. But he had been frustrated because she did not react and now she was even seeking him out -- it followed that he could only be enjoying himself right now.

Marie-Celeste noticed the change. He looked pleased with her and it was nice to see someone look pleased with her. He was not so bad, she admitted. And she could have fun with him, even if it did not always feel like fun. If she was wise, she would now step back and take a deep breath, but she could not.

There were some people who had to work on January 1, among them Thalen's deputy Malling, who had returned from his Caribbean holiday. He had come back once a decent newspaper had reached him, which had not been soon because he was on an island which had absolutely no colonial ties with his home country. Newspapers from his country were scarcely exported because there was not much demand for them abroad, except perhaps on the Spanish coast during the summer holidays, which explained why it had taken a while for him to find out that the entire country was in a state of distress. He had only found out about it when a group of other European tourists had brought a newspaper with them from a nearby island, a newspaper which had already been old when it was sold to them and consequently it was nearly a week old when Malling laid eyes on it.

The newspaper was in another language, one that he did not know well, but he knew what Anna looked like and he knew some words that look alike in most languages, such as kidnapping, abduction and terrorists. It had been enough to let him know that there was something going on. Considering that he was the head of Internal Operations and that this was definitely an internal affair, which he did not trust his superior Thalen to handle adequately, he had immediately organised his journey home, something that had also taken him a day or two. After all, there had not been a boat available to take him to the island with the airport until late at night, and late at night there were no more planes. Also, there was no plane going directly to where he wanted to go, but he had the choice between a transfer at Heathrow or a making stop-over at Madeira or flying an obscure African airline which he knew to have bought up an obsolete Soviet air fleet. He had chosen the transfer, but it had cost him some extra time.

It had been Friday when he had finally set foot on his home soil and he had arrived to find Thalen resigned and ConfOp -- or CO -- in distress. The Minister for Home Affairs would have to appoint a new head. It was an important position and not one she could quickly fill. There would have to be endless screenings and talks before someone could actually be appointed. However, the Minister was no fool and she had spoken to Anna, so she knew the truth. In absence of Malling, she had made the head of EO the interim head of the entire division and urged for a more, closer co-operation with the Chief Commissioner of police.

Fortunately, Thalen had not had either a photographic memory or many computer skills, because once his password had been cracked, they could access his files and found every detail of his side of the plan there. Now they could see exactly which Units he had ordered to do what and there was even a nicely detailed timetable with the order of events as they were supposed to have happened. It cleared the Units from being accomplices, because they had clearly only been following orders.

The discovery and study of the evidence took place from Friday evening until Saturday morning, when copies and conclusions were made of it to be discussed in a meeting of a select group of people: the Minister, the Commissioner, the head of EO and Malling, plus a few civil servants and the representative of the Parliamentary Inquiry Committee that had questioned Thalen.

The future of the division was discussed. "Perhaps," said the Minister, "it is not really necessary to have such a division if its operatives see nothing strange about kidnapping the Queen for an exercise. The fact that they are willing to believe that their superiors are bored enough to invent such farfetched exercises would seem to indicate that the whole division is bored stiff because there is no real need for them. How am I going to justify the money that is being spent on absurd exercises?"

"But you would never know the division might be necessary in a crisis," the head of EO protested.

"No, we wouldn't, but this is a crisis and what good has the division done? They blindly follow ridiculous orders --"

"Not all," the Commissioner interrupted.

"No?" the Minister inquired. She had not yet had time to read all the reports.

"There was one Unit who did not follow orders."

"Yes, the Unit that was ordered to do the actual kidnapping, Unit 6," she studied her copy. "Well, that still leaves two-thirds of the Units involved who did not think. What happened to the leader of Unit 6? Can we promote him?" That would be a practical and easy way to deal with the vacancy at the top. If they would all be promoted one level, they would only have to find a new operative.

Visser of the Inquiry Committee coughed discreetly. "I don't think so."

The Commissioner shook his head in agreement. "That doesn't seem like a good idea. At the moment, at least." He did not know if there was still something going on between Anna and Seton.

"Why not?" asked the Minister.

"Yes, why not?" said Malling. "Seton is the leader of Unit 6 and even if he's only working part-time, he's very capable."

"He is also a close friend of the Queen's," said Visser and the Commissioner nodded.

"And he resigned," said the head of EO.

"Seton?" Malling asked incredulously. All of the tennis news had gone past him entirely.

"How did he end up being a close friend of the Queen's?" the Minister asked.

"Well, the Unit spent a few days on the run with her, as you may have read in our report," said Visser, knowing that the Minister had not read it yet well enough to know what was actually in it. "I suppose that could get people acquainted."

"And why can't we appoint close friends of the Queen's?" the Minister raised her eyebrows. She had never seen Seton so she could not imagine that being on the run for a few days with another person could lead to a close acquaintance. "In the previous Government there were at least two close friends of the King's."

"But they weren't close friends in the same sense." He hoped.

"In how many senses can one be a close friend…?"

"I mean," said the Commissioner with a sigh. "That he and the Queen are very close."

"To the point of being in love," Visser clarified.

"Seton?" Malling asked, even more incredulous. He would have expected it of Hegge. Hegge was a known danger on any job that involved women under thirty. But then the Queen was over thirty, he reflected, although barely. Not enough to have mattered for Hegge, certainly. But he would not have expected it of Seton. He tried to picture the Queen. Youngish, dark-haired, reportedly stiff mannered, reportedly not too bright -- that was as far as he got. He could not remember her face, so he had no idea if she was stunning, but what could Seton want with a woman who spent ten years acquiring a simple degree that took others only four years? He remembered reading that.

The Commissioner looked pleasantly surprised. "I'm glad it wasn't a fling. I'd have misread them completely."

"It may still be a fling," Visser answered. "Any relationship can last a week."

"Gentlemen," said the Minister, who tried to suppress her shock because if she showed too many emotions, she would have all the men saying that women were not fit to be in leading positions. "Are we here to discuss the division or are we here to gossip about the Queen's friends?" Nevertheless, the next time she would meet with the Queen she would try to find out more about this close friendship.

"Is that why he resigned?" Malling asked the head of EO. He would call Seton himself and ask him what had happened.

"I don't know. Thalen handled that and I didn't know anything about him being friendly with the Queen. It's against the rules, though, to display any interest in people on the job."

"Surely you're not thinking of getting him for it!"

"Gentlemen," the Minister said again. "Perhaps we can stop talking about this man -- he seems to have resigned and it seems unlikely that he will ever rejoin. Now, about the division -- I'll need to see a justification of all the expenses."

"Some of the expenses can't be justified because there is no record of them," Malling remarked.

"Why not?"

"Because some of the transactions were not quite legal."

"They were not?"

"Well, some Units had to buy new firearms on the job and you know that firearms are illegal, but that there are still people who own them. Where do you suppose they buy them? From illegal dealers."

"So you know who the illegal dealers are?" the Minister commented. "Can you not tell the Commissioner so he can arrest them?"

"No, we can't. We use them," said Malling. "Not only do we buy what they sell, occasionally, but we also receive information from them on which people buy what, occasionally."

"That's tricky indeed. Alright, leave the illegal dealers," the Minister decided.

"And I must say one more thing," said the head of EO. "If you dismantle the division, you know what will happen. We'll become dependent on other countries for information, which may not always be in their interest to give us. In fact, it hardly ever is. If we do not go after information ourselves, we will never know anything. We were lucky that none of the foreign services discovered where the Queen was or we might have had a bloodshed on our hands. Fortunately none of them sent in their best men, because they figured that since this is such a quiet country, the crisis wouldn't be very big and any person would be able to solve it. But I have to tell you that there were -- and probably are -- foreign agents in the country."

"Alright, leave the division, but I repeat what I said earlier: there should be a closer co-operation with the other forces such as the police and the army."

"We already operate quite closely with the army." EO used the army's training grounds.

"I don't see why you couldn't just be part of either. That would surely save money," the Minister focused on the cost issue, which was usually the most important thing when it came to justifying the existence of such an obscure division. "I'll look into that," she decided. "Now, let's continue with Mr. Thalen's actions. The Prime Minister denies all involvement. Is it possible to ascertain that Thalen acted independently?"

Anna had ordered herself to stay in Patrick's room, so she would not be tempted to look up the staircase. There was not much to do there. John was asleep and she wondered if he was someone who always needed a lot of sleep or if this was exceptional, due to the night before and perhaps that morning. She stood gazing at him earnestly when he suddenly said, "booh!"

Anna uttered an exclamation and sat on the floor next to the bed. "Were you awake?"

"Yes, I woke up a minute ago."

"How did you know I was here?"

"Because I peered through my eyelashes and you didn't see that because you weren't looking at my head."

Marie-Celeste found Anna sitting on the floor and John lying on the bed with his eyes closed. "Is he asleep?" she asked hesitantly.

"No," Anna answered.

"Oh, good. I'd have found it rather odd if you sat holding a sleeping man's hand."

Anna smiled because she was happy to hear that Marie-Celeste was returning to her old self again. It was easier to deal with something familiar.

John opened his eyes and looked at Marie-Celeste curiously. "Why is that odd? The sleeping man would love it, not as much as he would love it if he weren't sleeping, but still."

Marie-Celeste felt a little uncomfortable. She had just stood upstairs holding Patrick's hand, but John could not possibly know that. Still, did he mean that Patrick had loved it? Patrick had not pulled his hand away. "I wouldn't know that," she said curtly.

"Things can change. It could be a matter of days. You should have heard me two weeks ago," he said humorously. "But I won't hold her hand in company if you prefer that."

"There is no need to do that," said Marie-Celeste and looked at Anna. "I shook his hand," she said a little proudly.

"And?" Anna asked when her sister stopped.

"That's all."

"You didn't say anything?"

"I was afraid I would ruin it. Do you think he understood?" she asked in an uncertain voice. "If he didn't, do you think you could tell him?"

"If you make us lunch, we will," said John. "What are we supposed to tell him?"

"Keep out of it," said Anna, placing one hand over his mouth. "He's going to make lunch himself, otherwise he'll only be picking apart his sandwiches to see if there isn't anything on them that he doesn't like."

John removed her hand. "How do you know that?"

"My dear, no one can possibly have lunch with you once and not know that. You don't like butter, you don't like cheese --"

"One, I do like cheese, but I don't eat it. Two, why should that bother you? Three, you don't eat cheese yourself either. Four, how on earth do you know all that?"

"Stop speaking in numbered lists," said Anna, slapping him gently. "It's very interesting to secretly study the habits of an enigmatic but interesting person, especially during meals when you're too shy to speak."

Marie-Celeste looked uneasy at what was happening before her and she left the room. They would not be interested in her anyway. She ran into Patrick, who was sitting on the stairs. "What are you doing here?" she could not help asking.

"I was wondering whether I should tell John that we shook hands. Just to get him off my back. I don't know why older brothers are so annoying. James doesn't care at all what I do."

"I doubt that he'd be more interested in you than in Anna," she said sharply. "I just left them alone. They weren't interested in me in the least, so why should they have time for you?" She was doing it again and she winced. Why did she have to keep doing that?"

"Then I think we fellow outcasts should amuse ourselves," Patrick answered. "Sit down. I can give you attention if you want."

"Yes, but what kind of attention!"

"Nothing respectable of course. Damn. I should have undressed you," he remarked. "Then at least I would have got some satisfaction from that whole scene."

"You c-c-can't mean that!" Marie-Celeste was shocked.

"Well, tell me what satisfaction I have now. Nothing. You hate me instead of liking me better and maybe the only promising thing is that I've got your sister implying that a repetition of the compromising incident will almost certainly have me end up at some dinner table trying to entertain the Empress of Mongolia."

"I don't think there's an Empress of Mongolia." Marie-Celeste banned all further thoughts.

"Is that all you can say? Will you allow yourself to be led to the slaughter willingly?"

"What slaughter?" she asked in confusion.

"The altar."

"The altar?"

"Don't tell my you don't know your sister is a little potentate in disguise."

Marie-Celeste looked uncomprehending. "A little potentate?"

"Oh, don't play innocent. I know you know it and I don't trust your sister. She comes down to order me to hang up my clothes so I will run into you. If I compromise you once again -- un-emancipated wench for blaming the man for that -- she will force me to marry you. How do you think she got my brother into her web? By getting him to see her in her nightgown or the other way around. I know what I have to do. It's too easy." He got up and descended the stairs. He had not been sitting high and he kissed her before Marie-Celeste could react.

Marie-Celeste barely had the time to wonder what he was going to do and it was not until he was so close that he could not possibly have anything else in mind that she knew what it was. For all Patrick's dashing flair it was a very gentle kiss and she was too stunned to even protest afterwards.

"I would continue it until we were caught," he said charmingly. "If I didn't think you wouldn't allow me." He pushed her down into a sitting position so she would not fall over and decided against asking the first question that had entered his mind when he had begun to kiss her. She would not be able to give him an answer, even if she were willing to. He whistled as he walked back to his room. "I found the way," he said to John and Anna. "The perfect way to shut her up." His chuckle almost sounded like a giggle.

"You shook her hand. Yes, we heard," John looked at him strangely.

Anna left the room because she had been there long enough. She still had to get her laptop from the car and she should also make some lunch. She noticed Marie-Celeste sitting on the stairs, but she paid no attention to her and she was surprised when her sister followed her outside. She was even more surprised when Marie-Celeste did not seem to want to speak.

Marie-Celeste had first wanted to tell Anna what had happened, because she did not know what to think of it, but then she had realised that if Patrick had been speaking the truth and Anna would indeed force him to marry her if she found out, she had better not tell her sister anything. It was not unlikely that Anna would think it a wonderful plan for her to marry Patrick. And he was shamelessly making use of Anna's need for symmetry. Could Anna honestly see Patrick as a suitable candidate for a queen-to-be? She wished Anna would think in terms of suitable characters and not in terms of loose ends that had to be tied up with no nicer way than to be tied up to each other. While she was silently fulminating against the rationality of the scheme, she realised that her plea for autonomy contained the word feelings. "See that I do have feelings?" she whispered to herself as if she were talking to Anna. "If I didn't, I'd go along with this stupid scheme, but something inside of me objects to unfeelingly marrying your sister off to his brother for no other reason than that it will both keep them off the street." She had no idea what that expression really meant, since someone in her position had no idea what could happen if people spent too much time on the streets, but she knew its vague meaning. There was something fundamentally wrong with Anna's idea -- something lacked: feelings. She could see why Patrick did not care about participating in it -- he thought she had no feelings and therefore he thought it would be easy. But did that not imply that he had no feelings himself? It did and that was what was puzzling. His actions seemed all motivated by feelings and yet his words were insensitive. No, his actions were also insensitive -- take his kiss -- but his touch was very light and gentle and almost loving -- again, take his kiss. Now wait, how is that possible? How can it be both? It confused Marie-Celeste a good deal.

Anna had frowned a few times when she noticed her sister trailing her absentmindedly, but she had not said anything. It was not a nuisance yet. She connected her laptop and checked her email. Her advisor had indeed sent her a copy of the statement and it was literally what she had dictated, so that was a good thing. There were a few other emails that she ought to look into, but she was hungry too, so she went to make herself a sandwich first. A few other people had done so already and she concluded that there was not to be any common lunch that day. It did not matter. Because Marie-Celeste still followed her, she gave her a sandwich too and then they read the emails together. "A card from Conrad. Do we want to load the page?" Anna asked. "Or shall we just believe him?"

"He might be waiting for the pickup notice," Marie-Celeste said. She was glad for the diversion. "Maybe we should."

Anna loaded the site where she could view the card. "Oh, I was really waiting for that. If he calls me Herzchen, what would you be called?" She returned to her email programme.

"How come you have so many emails?"

"I last read them on Thursday morning."

"Who are giantpinkflamingo and Véro_et_Fred?" Marie-Celeste asked.

"I don't know Véro and Fred either," Anna said with a frown. "I have no idea how they got my address. Do you think they could be French friends of Maman's?"

"They're French, yes," Nathalie called. "Véronique and Frédéric. Sorry. Mais je ne crois pas qu'ils sont des amis de ta mère. Ce sont mes parents." She explained to Anna in French what she had emailed from her parents' address and that it was not really important.

Hegge gave up at the first sound of French, although he was really interested in what Nathalie had to say and how she came to know these people who had emailed Anna. But he was a vet and not a bloody linguist. It was bad enough that he had had to memorise all the Latin names for parts of the anatomy and animal species at university. He was put out. "Why are they speaking French?" he asked Charles-Louis.

Despite his French name, Charles-Louis was not a native speaker of French. Actually the only francophone in the Royal Family was Eliane. "I think they do that because they have French mothers. Or just so you can't follow them."

"I've never heard Anna speak French before," Hegge said. He concluded that they used the French tactic in order to prevent him from understanding them.

"That's because it's not her first language. The Family would never have allowed that," Charles-Louis mocked. "I'm glad I'm too far removed to belong to the inner-circle of the Family -- I'm only the great-grandson of a king. Did you know that her mother and grandmother fell out over the language question? Her grandmother forbade Aunt Eliane to speak to them in French, but Aunt Eliane ignored her. That's why they don't quite like each other. Well, that's what they say, but I think it's more the fact that Aunt Eliane speaks horrible Dutch and English and no German at all -- you now how it is with those French -- and she made no effort while she was still supposed to be able to address all the linguistic minorities in their own language, not to mention important visitors. I don't blame her for not making an effort. It would amount to me having to learn Italian, Spanish and Portuguese at the same time."

"I think it would amount to me having to learn only one," Hegge said with a shudder. "I'm glad animals speak clearly. Oh! Rosita, love. Could you get me another coffee?" When she refused, he got up himself. It had been worth a try.

Patrick was glad that his brother only laughed when he heard the story and not told him that he had misbehaved and all that rubbish. But what would John say if he told him that Marie-Celeste could not kiss? Since it was the only thing on his mind, he had to say it. "She had no clue about kissing!" he said incredulously. "Did nobody ever tell her how to do it?"

John laughed even harder. "Patrick! She was surprised, probably. And you're not supposed to tell me such details."

"I don't care! I need to tell somebody! I'm shocked!"

"What for? Don't you look forward to instructing her?" John teased.

"I think she caught on eventually," Patrick said doubtfully.

John's phone rang and Patrick was forced to join the others in the living room. John coughed a few times to get rid of his laugh before he answered. It was Malling.

"Yep. How was your holiday?"

"Because…" John thought about it. He was not sure if he should mention Anna. "I would have resigned anyway if Thalen had stayed on and I think I was also fed up with the entire business."

"Yes, well…a close friend? Who said that?" Promoted to what? John wondered.

He did not like that they had been talked about. "Yes, well…that's true." He could feel the other man's disbelief when he said that.

With the Queen? It sounded completely incredulous. I thought they were making things up.

John had not thought that Malling's disbelief would be quite that big. "Yes…"

"Why is it so incredible?" he asked tersely. "She's intelligent, beautiful and very sweet."

Because you were always so cynical about women. It's a bit surprising to hear that when you finally fell, you fell for Queen Anna, of all people.

"Oh, don't think of that image of her. She's not like that."

"She's very shy."

Ahh. And she's the reason you resigned? Malling obviously thought Seton was blinded by something.

"Yes. I can't combine the two."

"Not today and I'm actually getting sick of telling that story all the time."

"I think they haven't decided yet."

Back

Next

Back To Novel Idea