Gauging the adversary

So that was the crux of the matter. The female with young was a force to be reckoned with. It was advisable not to mess with one. Hegge saw it was not quite the same for Seton. He had to work purely from imagination, but Hegge thought that it was still mostly imagination on Anna's part as well. But imagination or not, the result was the same and Anna had got onto a roller coaster. Poor Seton. He expressed his congratulations as cautiously as was called for in such a situation. It did not become clear to him how pleased they were themselves, but perhaps that was because of the context of the talk. "Remember to call him Thomas," he said.

"Maybe she doesn't even like the name," John protested.

"Not for girls, no," Anna answered. "But we've got a while." She pulled her sweater tight. "I'm still flat."

"I know you two are quick, but that's something you have to do at a normal pace," said Raine. "But are you serious about what you said earlier?" One thing with women was that they kept bringing up domestic problems to distract their companions' serious talk.

"I don't know yet," she admitted. "I may sound tougher than I am."

There was a little hassle when the pizzas were delivered, but finally they could sit down to eat. Anna stared as they all ate pizza with their hands. Pizza was not considered sophisticated food and the few times she had eaten it she had done so with knife and fork, obviously. It was their turn to stare at them when she got them small bowls of water. They were a little too large for finger bowls, but it was the best she could do.

John glanced at her in amusement. He wondered how much their manners grated on her sensibilities and he was glad that he was eating rice with a spoon. Of course his friends did not have a clue what the finger bowls were for. It had taken him a few seconds as well. At first he had thought they were meant to drink from, but they had already got glasses. He got up and got a roll of toilet paper when he noticed that the finger bowls missed their purpose entirely.

"Thanks, mate!" Raine said gratefully.

Anna looked at the toilet paper in distaste. Such things should not be placed on the table. There must be a world of difference between them socially, because she had no idea what it was for until Raine wiped his fingers with it. She said nothing and coloured. It was as if she had addressed them in the wrong language.

"Where do we find him?" Raine asked after eating half of his pizza.

"Where is his summer house?" Anna asked.

"Would he have one? Is he that rich?"

Anna wondered if she was being an alien yet again. No finger bowls, no summer houses. What then? "Is it really so expensive to have a summer house?" She had no idea what an average income was like or if one needed to be rich to have a summerhouse.

"It depends on the size of the house, but for one like yours you need a tolerable income."

"A PM's got a tolerable income," Gris commented. "He could afford a second house. We could ask his wife."

"Would he be there if he's got a wife who could lead us to him?" Anna asked. "Why did he leave his wife behind?" Either he had not wanted to involve her or he had not cared about her enough to take her.

"He might not be there, but in case he is, we ought to check it out," said John. "I mean, you," he corrected himself with a quick look at Anna, but she did not appear to have noticed. Perhaps she simply approved, but life was never that convenient. "He'd have to have documents."

"No problem," said Hegge, licking his fingers and wondered if Anna's rice did not taste well. She looked a bit sour, although Seton ate it as if it was delicious, but then he was a known waste bin for any kind of rice or pasta. The last helping usually went into his mouth.

Gris nodded. "When?" They had done the lawyer's office as well and the PM's house would pose no problem.

Hegge shrugged. "After dark." They would take care of it.

"What will you do if you find him?" Anna asked. Why did he have to lick his fingers in company when there were finger bowls and toilet paper? Had he never been taught manners?

They looked at her. "You tell us," said Hegge. Normally he would have looked towards Seton, but Seton was keeping a low profile, manoeuvring between his -- unofficial -- wife's approval and his own urge to help out. Hegge supposed there was a minor difference between letting Anna voice his thoughts and saying it himself. And he supposed this difference would be most keenly felt by Anna. Would she really have hurt feelings if he decided something without asking her or did something that she did not like? Seton had had not really grown up yet, had he? He would still like to join them. But unless the woman joined in, it was very difficult to make the woman and the job compatible.

"No, I can't tell you. Your boss should."

"If you had live a few hundred years ago, you would have had to take that decision yourself," John remarked. "Off with his head. And you would have given me a dukedom. I'm glad we live now."

When the others had gone to break into Keller's house, John sat down behind his computer and typed an email because he still had to do a column for a tennis magazine. He knew exactly what they wanted and he was not going to give it to them, because he found that he just could not do it. After a few fruitless attempts he switched tactics.

While John was busy emailing, Anna was watching television and leafing through a few magazines and suddenly encountered a picture of herself in an evening dress. She had thought this was a tennis magazine and she checked its cover to make sure. Yes. How odd to find a picture of herself in it. She was merely a recreational player who played at home and nobody played tennis in an evening dress, so what was the relevance of the picture?

And John thought her magazines were drivel. This was drivel of the worst kind, disguised as tennis news. She closed the magazine. Why was he subscribed to this nonsense?

A little fiddling with the alarm was required before they could enter the house. Mrs. Keller was not even at home, it appeared, or she had gone to bed before nine. Perhaps she had gone to stay with relatives. Nobody would be able to see the light of their flashlights either and they could search the house without too many worries. While two searched, one was on the lookout at the front of the house. He would tap the window in case someone arrived and that would give the other two the chance to leave through the back door. They changed positions halfway.

Hegge went inside to find Gris sorting through a pile of documents and copying useful things onto a small notepad. "Nothing much," said Gris. "How about upstairs?"

Hegge went up the stairs very quietly. The wife was not at home, because all doors were open and he did not see her. He searched the rooms thoroughly, but unless the PM had hidden things under the floorboards of the guest bedroom, there was nothing there. Besides, it seemed as if upstairs was Mrs. Keller's domain and that if he had wanted to hide anything from her he would have done so in his study. Hegge returned to Gris. "Nothing. I'm going to look in the shed." The old newspapers might be kept there and it was possible that he had thrown away scraps of paper of minor importance. The shed was not even locked, but there was nothing in it. He tried the garage and there they were, the neatly piled boxes with old newspapers. He found some envelopes and drafts of letters that he stuffed into his pocket. Unmarked envelopes with the letters still in them were also suspicious and his hunch was right when he found a bank statement from a Swiss bank inside one of them. There was a substantial sum in the account. He found a few more statements and took them all.

They returned to Seton's house just before two o'clock, just a little bit after another person. In the darkness they first mistook her for Anna, but it was Marie-Celeste and a groggy-looking Patrick opened the door for them. He had evidently not been expecting any of them and he stared at them in wonder, with his brain trying to wake up sufficiently to greet them.

"We've come for your brother," Hegge announced. There was obviously a new and more lax shift of bodyguards at work at the moment, because they had been allowed to creep up on Marie-Celeste and the house without anyone interfering.

"You too?" Patrick rubbed his eyes and blinked at Marie-Celeste.

"No," she pushed him inside.

Raine, Gris and Hegge climbed the stairs and the other two disappeared into Patrick's flat. "They aren't twins, John and Patrick, are they?" Hegge asked.

"No," said Raine. "Why?"

"Because they're dating sisters."

"Hmm…not twins, but some genetic defect anyway." He knocked on John's door and repeated it a few times. "Didn't he say we could come back?"

"We're a little later than we expected. Maybe he thought we weren't going to come anymore," Gris suggested. It was two o'clock after all.

"Can it wait till morning?" Anna opened the door looking just as awake as Patrick and the room behind her was dark. She had obviously been in bed already.

"Where's Seton?" Hegge asked.

Anna had tried to wake him, but it had been impossible. "He'll be available again tomorrow morning. He's asleep."

"He doesn't want to get up. That's a different thing." Hegge knew Seton could wake in an instant if it was really necessary. "I'll tell him he hurt my feelings now. May we crash or are we disturbing something? I guess not -- if he's asleep."

"Excuse me. What do you want to do?" Anna did not understand.

"Stay the night."

"Sure, but where?" There was only one bed.

"We've done it before," Raine said reassuringly. "He's got couches that fold out."

"Couches that fold out?" Anna had never seen those and she tried to imagine what they would fold out for. Probably to be slept on. "You mean you can sleep on them?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, then I suppose it's alright." Anna snuggled back under the covers, but it took a long time for her to fall asleep, what with the small sounds the men made as they arranged their beds.

Nevertheless she was the first to wake. For an instant she was acutely aware of her situation and she wondered regretfully if it was not very bad to be here. Probably. Her thoughts became incoherent and she knew she was going to fall asleep again.

When she woke next John was sitting up and reading slips of paper. She studied him through half-closed eyes. Earlier, when she had had her doubts, it had still been dark and she had not been able to see him. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being here. But this was so different from what he had written. She had raised her eyebrows when she had read that. He would freak out of he touched her hand. Anna grinned to herself and touched his hand. The change was instantaneous. His serious expression was replaced by a broad grin and he bent over her. The papers he had been studying slid off the bed.

"Seton! We're awake," Raine said warningly.

"I know. You gave me all that stuff to read." John sat up straight again and retrieved his papers. He had turned a bit red from hanging upside down. "Well…umm…" he glanced at the sheets of paper. "I think I need something to eat first."

Anna slid out of bed to take a shower, but the bathroom was incredibly wet, as if someone had taken a shower outside of the stall. She showered quickly and joined John, who was making coffee and tea.

"Could you finish it?" he asked and went into the bathroom, frowning at the wet floor. He did not think it had been Anna. She never made such a mess and he knew that, because he had seen her take showers. Hopefully Patrick was not getting flooded now.

Anna did not mind if this meant that he would go and shave and put on that very nice after-shave. While they waited for him -- the others were already dressed -- she studied the documents as well.

Patrick was not getting flooded with water from above. From two till four he had sat on his bed with Marie-Celeste and drinking wine, listening to her story about her mother. After two hours Marie-Celeste had fallen asleep with her head in his lap and glass still in her hand and spilled wine all over his sheets and his pyjamas. Previous to that, only a few drops of wine had been spilled. He had put the glasses on the nightstand, yawned and fallen asleep himself.

However, when he woke up he had a headache and so did she. They woke almost simultaneously, one woken by the groans of the other. "I smell wine," Marie-Celeste groaned. "I'm going to be sick. I can't stand wine early in the morning."

Patrick looked at his watch. "Early?" he mocked. It was almost twelve. His leg was numb because Marie-Celeste had had her head on it all through the night and his neck was stiff. Other parts of his body were not too happy either.

"I hurt all over," Marie-Celeste complained. "How could I have slept in such a position and with such a dreadful stench under my nose?"

"You were drunk," he informed her.

"I wasn't."

"Yes, you were and so was I -- a little. We had too much wine."

"Why? Oh!" she groaned when she remembered and dropped her head back to the place she had lifted it from with such a disgusted expression only a minute before, clutching whatever part of him was within easy reach, which happened to be his thigh. "Oh, Patrick!"

Patrick did not feel it much, because his leg was numb. However, he relished that whine. "Yes, darling?"

"I told you about it, didn't I?" she asked. "But I don't recall what I said and I don't recall you answering. I don't know what you're feeling." She worried about that. His opinion mattered to her.

"You told me, yes, many times over. I didn't answer because I never got the chance." Marie-Celeste drove her nails into his thigh, but he did not feel much of it. "Don't worry," he soothed her and loosened her grip on his leg anyway. She might tear his pyjamas.

"What do you think of my mother now?"

"Good for her," he said stoically. He was happy for her mother. What else should he be?

"Oh. What would you do if your mother did that?" Marie-Celeste asked.

"Nothing. Her situation is different. She's got her hands full with my dad."

"What if he died?" she persisted.

"My dad doesn't die," Patrick said confidently.

Marie-Celeste sat up and leant against him comfortably. He sounded like a four-year old. Perhaps she should not do anything about it. It was kind of cute. She wondered, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with being here. Except her headache and that wine smell. "Patrick…"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we could strip the bed?"

"Strip in bed?" he tried.

Well, perhaps he was not four, but fourteen and that was less cute at times. "You're half naked already. I meant the sheets. Can you throw them out so we don't have to smell wine anymore?"

"Oh." Patrick pulled off all sheets with wine stains and carried them downstairs to the washing machine. He also took off his pyjama bottoms because they smelled of wine, but he was not wearing a shirt.

"You stripped anyway," Marie-Celeste said accusingly when she followed him.

"I'm sorry!" he apologised.

"You're not wearing your Bugs Bunny boxers," she noticed.

Of course he was not! He only had one pair and he could not wear them every day. What was she thinking? "Cellie, please don't stare at my underwear." He felt the urge to wrap a towel around his waist, but there were no towels in sight, so he made do with a sweater of John's, or perhaps it belonged to James -- the three of them seemed to be sharing it and he did not know who had originally bought it. It had probably been his mother.

"Well, don't strip then!" She did not mind if he did.

"You spilled wine over my pyjama bottoms," he explained, trying to locate the washing powder. Perhaps his mother should come by and clean up this place again.

"And you spilled wine all over the front of her white blouse," John interrupted, carrying a load of wet towels. "Cute skirt, Patrick, but it sort of defeats the purpose if you face the other way and show her your behind."

Patrick had jumped up and turned around at the sound of his brother's voice. He looked a little embarrassed. He had no idea when John had appeared.

"Well, I like it," Marie-Celeste commented boldly. She knew she should not say such things, because she had a hangover, but Patrick had to be defended.

They stared at her and John coughed. He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. "Are you using the washing machine?" he asked Patrick.

"Going to." Patrick was rather red and shifting his weight from one foot onto the other.

"Oh." John dropped the towels where he was standing and went back upstairs.

Anna's eyes had a sombre expression in them as she thought of her current situation. It was not unusual for her to feel depressed and powerless and this time her troubles really seemed impossible to overcome. Not even the rational approach could diminish them, while a rational analysis usually brought an emotional threshold down several sizes. But that did not work now. She did not betray much of her insecurity and so the others did not guess. They were chatting confidently about what they would do, but it was not the same for them as for her. It was only their job that was affected and not their personal life and their image and the respect of other people. And they would not understand what was weighing on her mind.

Maybe John could take her to an uninhabited island, but she recalled having done a Latin translation long ago about the fact that going away with a troubled mind did not help to clear away the troubles. If only she could recall who it had been who had written that, then perhaps she could look up what exactly he had written. "Did you take Latin?" she asked John when he returned from the washing machine with an amused smile on his face.

"Latin?" he asked as if he had never heard of it before. He frowned reluctantly, but part of his smile remained. He was wondering about Patrick and Marie-Celeste.

Anna looked at him with a mixture of concern and dismay. "Don't tell me you never heard of Latin." She admitted to herself that she was a bit of a snob. He had to have heard of Latin and preferably have studied it too. He was bright. He had to have studied it. Why had he not done so if he was bright enough?

"I have, but I cannot imagine why you'd want to know if I ever took it. Right now, I mean."

She was relieved that he had at least heard of Latin. "Because I was thinking of something -- about troubles going with you if you travel -- skies? Or was that a song? I recall the classroom but not the philosopher. Well, I know whom we read, but we read several authors."

"It's the thought that counts," said John. He recognised the problem.

Anna rolled her eyes. "But I should know!"

He recognised that problem too and he laughed. "If I had to choose between Ovidius, Plinius and Seneca, I'd say Seneca. Did I miss one? Tacitus?"

"How do you know?" She did not know how he could know which authors she had had to read, but she was delighted to hear that he could name them.

"Really, dear. It's too much work for the Exam Committee to change the exam topics every year," he said in amusement. "Besides, that would mean they could only edit a few hundred copies of a certain book, because how many freaks a year take an exam in Latin?" It was likely that she had had the same topics as he had studied, having taken her exams only two years after him. "Does that mean you're not planning to travel anywhere?"

So he had taken Latin. It pleased her. Yes, she was a snob. Terrible, but small flaws were allowed in people, she thought. "Well, Seneca -- or whoever -- advises against it and I would agree with him, because I didn't feel any better when I was at the convent."

"Didn't you meditate?" he teased.

"No, they had a swimming pool. Yes, I meditated," Anna recalled. "I mean, I always talk to myself when I'm swimming."

"Don't you get water in your mouth if you talk under water?" Hegge asked interestedly. That was the only thing he could comment on and he never felt happy if he could not comment on anything. The rest, about Romans and the connection between swimming pools and meditations went over his head.

"I talk without words. I think to myself. So I thought a lot because I swam a lot because there was nothing else to do because I didn't feel like playing with clay. But then I didn't think so very much, because I kept thinking about the same thing and I never reached any conclusion, so actually I was driving myself a little crazy."

"How did you get away from there?" Raine asked. "We only heard that you had disappeared and then that you had returned. Did you get enough of it?"

"My mother asked…" she halted. "…a friend of hers to go and get me."

The news came on and Gris turned up the sound of the TV. A couple had been found dead that morning and it would not have caught anybody's attention if they had not been informed that the woman had been the former Prime Minister's housekeeper. They all stared at the TV long after the item was finished. "Is this significant?" Raine asked finally, voicing their thoughts.

"Anything connected to him is significant," Hegge decided. "I think we should go there and check it out."

"We have a party," said John.

"I didn't mean you," Hegge said patiently. He had meant himself, Gris and Raine. "You shouldn't go even if you didn't have a party. People are beginning to recognise you. Are you sure you should even go to that party? It might become worse after that." He knew Seton did not particularly like being recognised and he did not understand why he and Anna would want to go to a party, unless it was a friend's party, but he knew Seton did not attend many parties even if they were a friend's, let alone accompanied by Anna. Seton knew very well what kind of attention that would raise and he would not voluntarily seek it if he could avoid it. He was the sort of person who would now decline every invitation feeling even less bad about it than before.

"I hope no one will want to recognise me after that party," John said whole-heartedly.

Anna smiled. She hoped the same.

"Tsk," Hegge said and sighed. "I don't think I want to know what you're up to. It sounds naughty, but I suppose I'll read about it, won't I?"

They first went to the Palace so Anna could change and also because she had an interview that Eva had arranged for her at very short notice. Eduard had supervised the questions, undoubtedly, and she smiled when she read them. He was very protective of her and the questions were extremely boring.

After the party, a very confused journalist scribbled down some notes and whatever he had recorded on his hidden tape recorder. His car being at the garage for its yearly check-up, he was sitting at the bus stop waiting for the next bus, which would come in forty minutes.

He did not know what to make of them, really, because just before they had left they had seemed perfectly normal and they talked about tomorrow being a working day, but that would not be what the public liked to read. They would love it if Seton was as crazy as a shrimp, but they would get bored with nice and respectable people who left parties at ten o'clock because they had to work the day after.

A few youths began to bother him, trying to look over his shoulder at what he had written. The journalist put away his tape recorder and tried not to look anxious, but in reality he was feeling very harassed. A bus stopped and a man came out, but the youths did not get on the bus. They merely suspended their pestering and looked innocent while the bus was standing still. They continued when it took off.

"What are you writing then?" asked one, shaking a can and opening it, making the liquid spray all over the journalist.

He said nothing, putting away his notebook into his pocket.

"Oi, he's hiding it," one jeered and tried to get it from him. "Let's see!"

The journalist saw Seton approach. He's taking the bus? he wondered in confusion. Didn't he leave with her? He was glad to see another person, though. Even if Seton would have even more reasons to confiscate his notebook than these thugs. Seton's appraising glance told him that he had come to the correct conclusion about the situation. Perhaps they would now stop bothering him, with another person around, even though they were still in the majority.

"Hey," said Seton.

The youth tearing at the notebook paused and looked up, while his two comrades also stared at the newcomer. There was always a certain risk involved in approaching a tall man, especially a tall man who looked confident enough to interfere and the youths were obviously considering what to do. However, a man in an expensive suit would be too used to the good life to be a threat and they sneered. "What?"

"Give it back," Seton gestured.

"Who are you?" The bus shelter locked them in on three sides and they were not as confident as they felt. The man was tall. Perhaps he was also strong and they were not particularly strong themselves. "Why should I give it back?" the one holding the notebook glanced at it. "It's about the Queen, that @^%%."

"That what?" Seton asked. The journalist could see his eyes narrowed. Obviously one should not call the Queen names. Funny though that Seton did not seem surprised to hear that he had been writing about Anna. Perhaps he had seen him at the party. Would he have remembered his face?

"That @^%%," the youth said provocatively.

"You give that notebook back right now or you'll be sorry," Seton warned him.

"Heh. I'm not going to listen to you, #%$%$@. Get him!" the boy shouted when Seton came too close for comfort.

After having dealt with the troublesome youths, John recollected his senses and wondered what Anna would think of his having used his hands and feet. But then he could not have stood idly by while they were bothering another person, even if that person belonged to the undesirable race of reporters. They had run off saying they would fetch their mates and he wondered if he should stay and wait for the bus for another half-hour and run the risk of getting beaten up by a whole gang, or perhaps disgrace himself by beating up a whole gang. Anna would not like either thing. He should have accepted the ride she had offered him, but he had been too proud to be completely dependent. He read what was written in the notebook before he handed it back. It was as he had thought. People would think they were crazy if they read this. The whole story had been embellished a little -- John did not think that very many people had overheard what he and Anna had said. They had said it mainly for the benefit of the reporter. He looked at the man, who had not stirred. A bit of a coward who had not lifted a finger and who had let John deal with it all alone. "Thanks," he said sarcastically and strode off. There was no use waiting thirty minutes for a bus if he could walk home in less.

The journalist followed him. "Can I have an interview?"

The nerve surprised John. "No."

"Can I write about this?"

"I can't stop you."

"But you don't want it."

John turned his head to look at the other man. "What I want is that people leave me alone. In fact, I'm getting fed up with people who suddenly display an interest in us just because we're involved with each other, but you might have noticed that from our behaviour."

"But you can't expect people to leave you alone if you're seeing the Queen."

"Especially not people with your kind of job," John nodded. "There's no telling what I would do myself if I were chasing after the exclusive story about some queen. It's just a damn pity that I have to be involved and I'd give it up if I didn't know that it would be the stupidest thing I could ever do, but I'm not going to give people what they want. I don't want to be used. 'My party will be so successful -- I invited Anna,' when Anna would be bored out of her mind if she came. Do you see what I mean?"

He did not want to say too much to the journalist, so John left him at the next bus stop, with the assurance that nothing about the incident would appear in print. He grinned sardonically, because he did not have any faith in a journalist's word, but he had nothing to hide and he did not care much. That Anna was pregnant had been impossible to see -- she had been wearing a dress that had rather proved the opposite. And so what if they found out? It was done and he was rather proud of it, he realised with a cringe. He had always laughed at that sort of thing.

When he got home he called Hegge, who was having a cup of coffee with the Commissioner and Raine and Gris. "I'm amazed that you'd call," Hegge said. "I thought you had to go to a party with the missus." Seton, he mouthed to the others.

We're not Siamese twins, Seton replied tersely.

Hegge snorted. "You and Anna are not Siamese twins. I know that, because otherwise you would have known that she called me ten minutes ago. Wanted to know how we were doing. I said we were doing fine. You shouldn't worry. She's going to sleep tonight, if not with you, apparently, but --"

What are you talking about? Seton asked in exasperation.

"You don't like my asides?" Hegge enjoyed riling him, if only because this had almost never been possible before. "It means we've almost got him and Anna won't need to have a nightmare."

Hegge told him the story so far. There was no doubt that Keller was involved in the case. It had been his housekeeper who had been found dead, but the motives were not clear yet. Maybe she had known something that she should not have known, or it was something she had seen. He refused to tell John the exact details. "I won't tell you more than I told Anna."

Hegge did not say that it had been Anna's specific request that he did not tell John everything. He hated to meddle in their affairs and get them upset when they were so protective of each other. Anna thought John did not have to know anything and John thought Anna did not have to know anything. It was highly comical.

John seemed to realise he had no bigger right to know anything than Anna and he had not finished his sentence. Did she say anything to you? he asked finally, suspecting that she had. He was not annoyed by the thought, surprisingly. He ought to be, but he was not.

"Did she say anything to me?" Hegge repeated carefully. "Yes, we talked. She spoke."

"Your name came up once or twice," Hegge said even more guardedly. "Per sentence," he snorted.

John swallowed his irritation. He suspected that Hegge knew exactly what he was getting at, but that he just enjoyed playing games. Did she tell you to keep me ignorant?

"Did she tell me to keep you ignorant?" Hegge repeated again for the benefit of the other listeners. "Next time I'm going to tell her that's a bloody stupid thing to do, because an ignorant you is ten times as troublesome with your questions as an informed you who might interfere. Which would apply to her also."

She's not troublesome, Seton said automatically.

"Oh…grrrrr," said Hegge and hung up. He did not think he could continue this conversation without bursting into laughter and it was better if Seton did not hear him do that. If he had any questions, he would call back.

Anna hoped John had not called Hegge and she called him right after Hegge had hung up on him to check whether he was home. She was a bit anxious about his reaction and hoped he would not realise why she called.

Were you afraid I had gone to the others? he asked.

All right, so he realised. "Yes." What would he say now?

Anna was aware of the silence she created by not replying, but she just sat there with the receiver. He would not go. And he meant it. He would not go, because she would not like it.

Anna? John asked anxiously. Are you still there?

"Yes," she answered sweetly. "I was just thinking."

"You." Anna made a sudden decision to keep that Thursday free. Reassured by the news she had received earlier, she was convinced that nothing more stood in her way. "What are you doing on Thursday?" Maybe he had something to do, or perhaps his parents did. Or her parents -- though she could not imagine that they had engagements that they could not cancel.

"Good."

Why do you ask? John was puzzled.

"Do you still want me?"

"Alright, so you do," Anna said happily. "Keep Thursday free then, just in case." And he would get her, if he understood what she meant at all.

Of course he understood. What if your wedding gown hasn't arrived yet on Thursday and how can you abdicate before Thursday and --

She laughed. "You leave that to me, darling. Summary justice or something like that." Anna was not altogether certain that she could pull it off, but she was going to give it a try. "If not, well, then next week. I have to make a few other calls, though." She ended the call ten minutes later, not really able to say goodbye.

"The line is busy," Hegge said in surprise. "I hung up on him and he's calling someone else right away?"

"Guess who?" Raine asked. "What did Hegge tell you, Anna?" he imitated John.

The Commissioner shook his head in amusement. "Are they really that bad?"

"They are…well…" Hegge paused. "No, they're not that bad, but he's almost inviting us to make fun of it. We have to get used to it too," he said defensively. "We thought he'd be the last to get married and now -- well, some of these very clever people are exceptionally stupid in some areas," Hegge commented. "I once told Seton I had a classmate who was a chemistry wizard who still played with Lego when he was sixteen and Seton looked at me like it was normal to play with Lego at sixteen. I never asked Anna, but…"

"Fifteen," Gris supplied. He could not remember how he had ever got to asking her.

"Oh jeez," Hegge sighed. "No wonder. I guess we're going to have to buy little Thomas lots of Lego then. Will we get this over with soon, Commissioner?"

"I think so. It's looking okay so far." He had been in contact with his men only half an hour before. "Who's little Thomas?"

"Someone we've been taking bets on," Hegge clarified. "Ever since we saw Seton open the car door for Anna that first night. A historic moment." Especially since Seton had always ridiculed people who did that.

"Indeed," said Gris, taking out the bet list. "December 21, Hegge bet me 20 quid on a kiss before Christmas." Hegge had been convinced that he would win it and Gris had been convinced that Hegge was seeing ghosts.

"I think I won," said Hegge. "Pay up."

"December 25, Hegge bet me 10 quid on a child before 2001. December 26, Hegge bet Raine 50 quid on an elopement before 2000. You lost that."

"I thought you had a serious problem on your hands," the Commissioner remarked. If he did not know that they tackled problems in a serious manner, he would think them unprofessional. But perhaps it was not so bad to have some moments of relaxation in between. "Shall we continue, gentlemen?" he stood up. They had to go on with their search.

In the morning, Anna noticed that she swam very fast. She had not timed herself for a long time, because her speed had seemed to go downhill and she had thought it was her age showing. Now that she was feeling better, she wondered if it had perhaps been the consequence of her depression, because she was certainly as fast as before she became a queen now. At the time she had not known she was steadily becoming more and more depressed, but she realised it in retrospect. It was going the other way now and she smiled. Perhaps she should do a competition, although queens doing competitions were extremely rare -- non-existent, to be exact. Although she had relatives who took part in equestrian and golf competitions and nobody frowned on that. Nobody had ever frowned on Princess Anna playing hockey, tennis, water polo and volleyball. There were races in South America at this time of year and maybe they could go there on their honeymoon. Would John agree to that? Surely he would if there was also a tennis tournament? Anna hummed to herself as she dressed and fantasised about the idea. Nobody would know them in South America, which was a good thing.

She was rather late in getting to her office, but apparently she was not the only one who had better things to do, because Eva said that Eduard had not been seen yet either and he was usually very early. Anna needed to talk to him and while she waited for him to appear, she speedily worked her way through yet another pile of documents. She did not read them all very carefully, but she got the gist of what was in them and that was enough. Because she had a lunch to go to, she prepared a little note for Eduard when he still had not arrived and she was reluctant to call him. If he was not here, he probably did not want to be disturbed by work either.

John noticed that Anna had kept her word and ordered him some books, because when the doorbell rang for a delivery, it was not just a dress that he had to sign for. It looked like half the contents of the delivery van were meant for him. James, Patrick and he stared at it all in confusion. Fortunately it had been paid for already. It took him a few minutes to get it all upstairs and then he could begin the unpacking.

He checked if the dress was the correct one and it was. Two of the smaller parcels looked like books and when he opened them, he found they were indeed books. On babies. He shook his head. Was this his homework? But Anna was right. He should know what to expect and they could not experiment on a baby.

The other two parcels had no function, other than apparently being presents for himself. Patrick and James observed it all with curiosity. "The woman has a credit card and she wants you to know it," James remarked. "Keep her. Financially independent girls are always good."

"What's that bag for?" Patrick indicated the wrapped-up dress. He had not been able to see what was in it.

"It's a dress for Anna."

"Anna wears mail order dresses?" Patrick asked skeptically. "You can't be serious."

"Well, she can't go to a shop and buy a wedding dress, can she?" John defended Anna. "Not without alerting people to the fact that we're intending to get married."

"Why get married if you don't want anyone to know?" Patrick did not understand. "Isn't it by definition something you do for the outside world?"

"The outside world may know, but only afterwards."

"No party then?" James asked regretfully. "How boring."

"Oh, grow up!" John said in irritation. "Stop criticising me. This is how we want to do it. If you don't like it, then don't come."

"Oh, no," James said immediately. "I'm coming. If you genuinely want to marry your girlfriend in a mail order dress, then I respect that choice."

"I'd marry my girlfriend in her pyjamas. And what do you mean, no party? We could always throw a party afterwards, but I just wouldn't like to have the ceremony televised."

"Not in a mail order dress, obviously," James nodded.

"Moron! She'd get an expensive dress for an expensive ceremony," said John. "You have to adapt yourself to the circumstances. But if you want a huge party, you're going to have to wait for Patrick."

Patrick looked sheepish. "Uhh, how do you know that?"

"Common sense."

"Oh, you have that?"

John whacked him in the head and soon all three were wrestling on the floor. "Savages!" Marie-Celeste cried, appearing suddenly. "What are you doing?"

"Playing around," Patrick explained breathlessly.

"Uncivilised jerks."

"Why can I do it with you and not with them?" Patrick asked innocently, making her colour very deeply. They all laughed when they heard her thump down the stairs.

"I didn't know she was here," said John, extricating himself from the tangle.

"She's always here," James answered. "I think she moved in."

"No, no. That's purely professional. We're working on a website for the Palace," Patrick explained seriously.

His brothers looked at him knowingly, giving wide-eyes nods.

"Really. My computer is better than hers."

While that was true, John and James still did not quite believe that it was the only reason for Marie-Celeste's presence. "You're really devoted to your project, aren't you?" James asked. "Even working at night."

"Well, it helps that I like her."

"Ooooh."

"Patrick?" Marie-Celeste appeared again, looking a little agitated. "I need to talk to you about something serious. Can I talk to you in private for a second?"

"Sure," Patrick got up and followed her onto the landing. He closed John's door behind him. "What is it?" he asked leaning against the wall.

"I got a call from my uncle. He said Anna's going to quit today or tomorrow, depending on how long it takes. I won't be able to come here anymore after she's quit." Marie-Celeste paused. "Well, I know Anna does it, but I'm not Anna. I think it would be best if you came to me."

She said she wanted to continue seeing him and that made Patrick happy. He bit his lip. It made him a little nervous too to think of the future. "And then..."

"Tell me you don't object."

His life would become radically different. He wondered if he was up to it. "Will you help me?"

"With what?" Marie-Celeste frowned.

"Being good and so on."

"No." She smiled suddenly when he looked a little taken aback. "Only to a certain extent."

Eduard studied the note. He had phoned Marie-Celeste, his friend the Mayor and the political advisor. That had taken care of the first three points on the list. Anna seemed to have a dress, so he did not have to worry about that. The location was easy as well -- his house? He would have to ask her if she agreed, but it would be very convenient because of the Mayor. Guests -- he should think family. They would have to keep Thursday free. Thursday? Thursday was his birthday, he remembered suddenly. It appeared that Anna had this all thought out somehow. Most family members were already keeping Thursday free to pay him a visit. He smiled at her ingenuity. If she wanted to do it this week then Thursday was by far the best choice for a day.

However, the last point on the list puzzled him. Did she mean Eliane should see a doctor? Or did she mean Eliane had to make an appointment for her? As far as he knew, Anna was the only one who should have to see a doctor. He went to Eliane to ask.

Eliane was a bit surprised by the news. If Anna wanted to do it that way, she should be free to do it, but she wondered if Anna would not regret a plain ceremony later on. And did this mean all the troubles were over? It had certainly been quiet for the past few days.

"It needn't be plain," said Eduard. "But does this note mean I should arrange it or does it mean she's informing me that she's arranging it herself?"

Eliane did not know it either. "I don't think she knows how to arrange it. Where did she get the dress? I'll call John's mother and see if she knows anything and if she doesn't, we'll arrange the appearance of things."

"What's that?"

"Flowers and food. And you do the official things."

"Eliane…have you ever considered…" Eduard broke off. He was not certain how she would take it. Perhaps it was too presumptuous or too soon and she had been married before, so she might not be eager to do it again, but the thought had suddenly entered his mind and it was impossible to get rid of it. She would know what he meant.

She gave him a little smile. "I hadn't, because it doesn't matter much." She did not know how he felt about the issue and she did not want to give her opinion just yet. "People would think it strange at our age."

Her words were not very encouraging, but her smile was. "But don't you think we should have a dress-rehearsal so our daughter will have a perfect day?" Eduard asked with a mischievous grin he could not suppress. To hell with it all -- he had to try.

Eliane could feel herself be drawn in. This was in essence a ridiculous idea and she should resist, but that was not easy. "A rehearsal?"

"People needn't know."

"Edouard! What about the witnesses?" she protested, seeing a flaw in his otherwise perfect plan.

He thought about that one. "Didn't you say you would ask John's mother to help you arrange things? She'd have to be there at a dress-rehearsal."

"I don't know what people would say."

"They'd say you were a devoted parent to rehearse everything so carefully," he said with a wink, eliciting a small laugh from her. Eliane never gave herself readily, but he was used to having to do a lot of coaxing and he knew she was on the point of giving in. In that aspect, Anna seemed to look more like him than like her mother. He enjoyed the thought that they were similar, although he knew that Anna could be very much like Eliane as well, depending on the situation.