So there the
five of us were, sat in our living room, as the evening drew in.
Fiona and Robert were, well, I suppose you'd have to call it asleep,
though both were absolutely still. From looking at them you might
have thought they were dead. Oak paced, in a rather irritating
manner if you ask me, while my husband stared at Robert's body
slumped in an armchair. Every so often he nibbled his lower lip. My
husband that is, he does that when he's very worried.
“Will he
be okay?” I asked Oak, nodding towards my son.
“I have
armed him with what information I have,” he replied, “I'm sure he
will manage if he keeps his wits.”
“So,” I
said, “What happens now?”
Oak stopped
pacing and looked at me darkly. “Nothing,” he told me. “Nothing
happens now. Now we wait.”
