Before she can answer, the waiter returns with a heavily burdened tray, beginning to lay the table with ritual precision. Each item is set in place, adjusted until it is just so, plates moved a fraction to the right, cups turned marginally. Fiona is hypnotised by it.
Rose breaks the spell, drawing her attention to another picture. “This one's twenty minutes later, on the High Street?”
“I don't...” Fiona replies.
“Of course you don't, you weren't there.”
“But...”
“Oh your body was there, but you,” she gently taps Fiona's head, “You were elsewhere. The question is” tapping the image of Fiona, “What was in there?”
