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"Elizabeth?" Of course," I told her. "I'm Martha. All under control. Give me your baggage."She yielded up her luggage and followed me up the stairs. "I'd expected someone older," she said, "I've eaten your meals. They were delicious."I had to laugh. But suddenly I felt very kindly towards this weary innocent."C'mon. Bath and a drink? Champagne on offer?"And so I watched her transform herself from a small and weary waif into a party hostess. I settled her in the guest-room and ran a bath. I came back with champagne and the box that Robert had sent. What a difference from Elizabeth - if this really was a lover. But she must be! I undid the box for her. Earrings! So pretty, but so perfect. Long strings of perfect pearls to hang against the curve of her jaw. She confessed that the she'd only worn the simple studs in her ear for two years. I watched her dry herself - swiftly, casually. Then into the guest-room - she seemed glad of my company. She flung her towel in a heap and stood naked. I bought a camera and made enough money being a freelance photographer. I basically lived out of my backpack. I left Hong Kong and traveled to South East Asia, then on to Africa and across to South America. I had done Europe during the first six months of my adventure. Now I was back, my mother was ill and the doctors had told her she had no more than three to six months to live. I hated death, and I hated sickness, it made me feel uncomfortable, and in my line of work I had seen enough of it. Covering wars and outbreaks. I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder and walked up the tiled path with flower beds on either side. Then I knocked on the door.When it opened my father was standing there, he looked at me, curiosity in his eyes. “Yes? Can I help you?” “Hi dad, it’s me.” “Chris? Oh, my god, I didn’t recognize you at first. Come in.” I walked past him into the large foyer. Across it were the French doors out onto the back terrace, pool and garden. When he had closed the.
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