My wife got
a bit irate when Oak implied he didn't believe our account of events.
“Mister
Oak!” she exclaimed, “what possible reason could there be for us
to lie about the things that have happened? What could we ever hope
to achieve? How would we even know what to make up. When I woke up
this morning, the only thought in my head was that my son was coming
for lunch and how lovely that would be.”
I could see
she was on the brink of tears, so I reached over and put my hand on
her knee. She placed her hand on mine and gently squeezed.
“I'm sorry
to have upset you,” Oak told her, “but the nature of my role
means that I can never accept an account without evidence to prove it
so.”
