Follow a Stranger

“I’m a competent amateur,” she said firmly, “but thank

you.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his face inscrutable.

“What a girl for laying out the facts you are,” he said at

last. “You are unusually honest. I know many much less

talented musicians who would claim a great deal more

than competence.”

She refused to be drawn, smiled and said goodnight,

leaving him alone in the lounge.

She was up early next morning and met Sam on the

stairs. He looked his usual self once more, clear-eyed and

alert. He grinned at her, “I slept like a log! How about

you?”

“Fine,” she admitted.

They found themselves the first to arrive for breakfast.

A pretty girl in a lavender overall was moving about,

laying the table, and looked round in surprise as they

entered the room. She smiled, though, and said good

morning in rather thickly accented English, then pointed

out the food, waiting over steel hotplates.

There were scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages, but

Kate stuck to her usual orange juice and slice of toast.

Sam, however, greedily heaped his plate with a glorious

mixture of everything, and grinned at her teasingly as he

began to eat.

“I heard you playing the piano last night,” he said,

between mouthfuls.

“Did it wake you? I’m sorry. Marc asked me to play

something before I went to bed.”

Sam shook his head. “It was quite pleasant, drifting off