Summary: It's our
relationships that make us who we are.
Westbury. The only customer in the teashop named The Cheese Wring sat in a
quiet corner of the upstairs room, her view of the counter partially obscured
by a massive fern. She absently stirred her tea, and opposite her across the
table, an empty china cup and a Danish pastry awaited their fate.
She looked up
when footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of another customer, and she
watched him approach her table.
He sat down at
the table, and thanked her for the pastry. He hadn't seen Anne Hammond for…
five years? And he felt oddly pleased that she had remembered that these
pastries had been his favourite at that time.
supposed to rain later," Rupert offered when his companion remained
silent. She muttered something about not bringing a coat with her, and he
helped himself to some tea while he studied her. Anne must now be in her
mid-fifties, but she was still a very attractive woman. Her brown hair was tied
back into some sort of clip at the back of her head, a simple black dress
fitting nicely to her slim curves, and a concerned expression currently
adorning her face. He waited for her to speak.
you for coming," she said hesitantly. "I heard that you deal in
strange things these days, and I hoped…" she trailed off, searching for
words. "I hope I'm not wasting your time."
don't you tell me what's wrong?" he replied gently. "It can hardly be
a waste of time to have tea with an old friend, can it?"
gratefully at him and blurted out, "It's Ruth."
combed through his memory, trying to place the name. Her daughter? No - that
had been… Claire. "Your granddaughter?" he said, drawing the
information from some forgotten archive of his mind.
Anne confirmed. "Claire's partner
David left her a couple of months ago. She's a nurse, and when she works, I
look after Ruth for her. It's no trouble, really - Ruth is a delight to have."
is Ruth?" Giles asked when she faltered.
Bright as button," she said proudly. Giles made the appropriate
appreciative noises, and she continued. "When Claire was a child, she had
an invisible friend. I know it's common for children to make up a playmate, but
hers - his name was Thomas - stayed so long that I began to wonder if he was
real. Somebody she'd met, perhaps. Eventually she grew out of it, and Thomas
went away." Anne shifted uncomfortably on her padded seat. "But, now…
he's back. Ruth has started talking to
him." She looked up. "Thomas is back."
Giles took in
his companion's' anxious expression and hesitated. The child's friend was quite
likely just that - perhaps a confidant that a child whose father had abandoned
her needed at that time. But… Anne was a sensible woman. She had been
headmistress of the same school for over twenty years, and had been teaching
before that. She was not normally given to flights of fancy.
an imaginary friend?" Giles asked at last, reaching forward for the little
china teapot to pour himself a cup of tea.
than that. Thomas is her imaginary friend."
Giles said carefully. "That's not so surprising. Claire probably told
Anne shook her head. "No. Claire insists she has never told her about
Thomas. Neither have I. Rupert - you know that Claire and Ruth are all the
family I have. Who else would have told her?"
it's nothing to worry about," Giles said, leaning back in his chair, the
welcome tea in his hand. "But if
it makes you feel better… would you like me to talk to her?"
you, " Anne replied. "I'm looking after Ruth tomorrow - is 10 o'clock all right with you?"
very kind of you to help out tomorrow, Alice."
as Alice deftly removed some plastic boxes from her pantry and placed them on
her big old wooden table next to four iced, but not decorated, home-made cakes.
looking forward to it," she said, adding ruefully, "I don't get out
the village fete is hardly exciting." Martha said doubtfully. "Buffy
helped last year, but she's gone away for a few days. She's a good girl though
- she did offer to postpone."
she might not get away at all."
In her line of work she never knows what's going to happen."
you go," Alice said, opening up her boxes. "What do you think?"
boxes lay delicate creations made out of sugar. Alice had made several
different flowers, orchids, daisies and carnations; but the best, and most
prolific of the plants, were the roses. Red roses, white roses, pink ones, and
roses in pale yellow and cream. Each flower was a miniature replica of its
natural inspiration and Martha was charmed by the detail in each curved petal
or veined leaf.
she breathed. "Where on earth did you learn to make them?"
Alice considered, her brow furrowing. "Years ago." She picked
up one of her iced cakes and began adding her pretty flowers as the decorations
all around the edge and on top of the smooth surface. She paused, remembering.
"Maggie McCallen it was," she said softly. "She was a good
friend of mine, worked in the kitchens in one of those big houses down in
Eastbourne. It must have been… just before war broke out." Before Martha
could ask, she said, "The Great One. The one to end all of them…"
do too well, did it?" Martha indicated Alice's kitchen table, covered in
cakes and cake decorations. "If everyone made cakes instead, there would be
"You could have a point."
seen a lot of things, haven't you, Alice? Not just wars, but inventions, and
fashions, and trends that come and go..."
Alice looked up, and for once, she looked sad. "The only thing that
doesn't change is me."
do. You look different as you get older."
what happens when people start noticing how old I am? Expecting me to get
senile or frail?" She looked around her comfortable cottage. The cat
sprawled fast asleep on the chair. The homemade ornaments her students had made
her twenty years ago. The fresh flowers picked from her own garden. She would
be sad to leave all this and move on. Angel had told her once that he'd had to
move on every few years or so to stop people noticing he didn't age. She was
much luckier than some people had been, really. She smiled. "I heard that
there are young men who find old ladies sexy. I should get myself a toy boy.
Think I can find one that likes iced cakes?"
laughed. "Stranger things have happened, dear. Stranger things… now, are
we going to box these gorgeous creations of yours up for the fair
crossed the carpeted lounge, his once-white trainers making no sound as he skirted
round a lively family with four children playing tag round their ungainly stack
of luggage. He crossed over to the exit, and stepped out into the breaking
a massive jet circled the air terminal before coming in to land. In front of him,
people swerved around like dodgems, diving into waiting cars or scurrying into
the airport to catch their early flight. Even at this hour of the morning, the
airport was seething with humanity. But it was chilly here, and Daniel zipped
up his thin jacket and swung his bag over his shoulder, before looking at his
watch. If he was quick, he might be able to make the first train; grateful for
the excuse to stretch cramped muscles from his long flight over the Atlantic,
his slow amble broke into a jog and he weaved his nimble way through the
restlessly, pushing aside the striped duvet that she'd got tangled in. She
opened her eyes to find the room in darkness. It was hard to sleep here, unused
as she was to the noise from outside. Westbury was very quiet, sleepy even, but
London was not. She rolled over, but she was alone in the bed.
There was no reply, and she assumed Angel had gone out in the night air. She
tried, but she couldn't get back to sleep and she got up. There was no view
from her window, it only looked out onto the back of the hotel but they had
specifically asked for one without direct sunlight. Buffy hadn't wanted to
spend her few days break locked away with the curtains drawn. She didn't want
to sleep, so she picked up the remote control on the television and turned it
on. Flicking up and down the channels was depressing. London had not much more
to show than down in Westbury. She settled on some old black and white film
about gangsters because it amused her to see how deserted all the old streets
looked in comparison to modern times.
She heard the
room door open but she didn't need to look.
sleep?" he asked sympathetically.
tired," she replied, watching him strip off his shirt and shoes and then
sit next to her on the bed. He looked at her quizzically. "Can I do
spread slowly, and she shifted position so that her legs curled over his.
"I can think of a couple of ways," she said.
Martha bustled into the kitchen and heaved her
shopping bags up onto the kitchen table, to join the two others already there.
John came in from the car with a cardboard box that contained six of Alice's
homemade creations. Each one was different - a craft masterpiece on their own
merit. Her cakes were always popular, though several people had said it was
such a shame to cut them up. The largest cake was carefully balanced on the top
of the box; this one would take pride of place on their cake stall tomorrow but
it was not for sale. The plan was to raffle the cake off and give the proceeds
to the local children's home. As John
manoeuvred the large box onto the table, careful to avoid squashing the
precious contents, he accidentally jostled one of Martha's shopping bags,
making it topple over and send tins of various bright colours rattling over the
"Sorry love," he muttered, already bending
down to retrieve a particularly adventurous tin that had rolled all the way
under the table.
Coming down the stairs, and alerted by the noise,
Giles diverted to the kitchen to see what was going on. He found John on all
fours under the kitchen table and Martha battling with rebellious shopping
bags. The far end of the kitchen table was covered in bunting, string, wicker
baskets and other paraphernalia. He
opened his mouth to ask if everything was going all right for the village fete
when Martha whirled to face him.
"You'll never guess!" she exclaimed, waving
her hand excitedly over the four white loaves on the table.
He tried. "They'd run out of brown?"
Martha glared. "No, not that!" John,
emerging from under the table to place the Houdini tin on top of it, muttered
something about his dahlias and hurried toward the garden but not before
throwing Giles a sympathetic smile. He'd been on the wrong side of that glare a
few times himself.
"There was a phone call for you while you were
Giles frowned. He'd checked the pads when he arrived
back home. There had been no messages for him. "From…?"
Giles blinked. "Is Faith all right?"
"Turns out she's met this man. Wants to settle
down and have a white picket fence…"
Giles' jaw dropped. That had been the last thing he'd
expected. "Whatever is her watcher thinking of?" He knew he'd said
the wrong thing the moment the words left his mouth. Martha's delighted
expression changed and her arms crossed her chest in that firm way that
"Maybe he's thinking of her. Maybe he
thinks that such a pretty young lady should have something in her life that
isn't about demons and darkness. Maybe he wants her to be happy in
whatever lifespan the good Lord sees fit to allocate her. Maybe…"
Giles held up his hands in surrender. "I get it,
Martha! I'm sorry! It's just that… well, Faith is not the settling down
"People change, Giles. She's had a hard life and
she's not a child anymore. It could just be her latest whim, but if the lass
can find a bit of happiness with this person, I think we should be happy for
her." Her expression softened, and she added in a kinder tone, "We
all need somebody sometimes, Giles."
Giles sighed. Unbidden, thoughts of Jenny and Ella
fled across his mind before he could close the door to send them firmly back
into storage. He'd shared some comfort with both of them before they had been
stolen from him. Who was he to deny that same comfort to somebody who risked
her life time and time again and who knew she stood no chance of making old
age? He sighed. Getting maudlin in his old age…
"You're right. I'll call later and talk to her.
Will that do?"
"It's a start." But she was smiling as she
Bemused, Giles headed down the hall toward his office.
Faith getting all slushy? What next? Little Faiths? Sitting down at the computer to check his emails, he raised an
eyebrow at the amount of mail he had accrued since yesterday. Business had
certainly picked up since they had started the Project website, and he wondered
idly if he should get himself a secretary to deal with it all.
Eight of the emails were orders for pills and potions
to deal with supernatural problems and necessities, asking for things that were
simply unavailable elsewhere. A couple were business ones from Alice, and one
contained a rather risqué joke from Nick. He chuckled to himself before turning
his attention to the last two. The first was from a young lady considering her
forthcoming marriage and asked him if the stars were favourable? He sighed,
informed her that wasn't his area of expertise and sent her the email of an
Astrologist friend of his instead. He could hear a car pulling up outside the
front of the house and checked his watch. Ah yes, his 11.o'clock client was
arriving. Something about spectral sightings on his new sofa, or some such
thing. He stood up and straightened his clothes in an effort to look suitably
efficient. The last email would have to wait.
day dawned bright and sunny. Ruth was sitting in the middle of a chequered
blanket stretched out on the wooden floor, drawing when Giles was shown into
The little girl looked up when Anne spoke her name. "This is Mr. Giles -
an old friend of mine."
girl glanced up from her work and gave him a shy smile, but she remained
Ruth. What are you drawing?"
she said brightly. She held her picture up, full of circles, coloured blobs and
"I like your shed." He hoped the shed was in there somewhere.
is going to ask you some questions, Ruth."
The child was drawing again.
Thomas here today?"
Ruth stared at
him, and then at her grandmother, but she remained silent.
right, darling." Anne said. "You can tell him what you see."
Giles asked, suddenly whispering, "I'm not sitting on him, am I?"
"No, silly!" She indicated the stool. "There."
Thomas!" Giles said loudly. "I'm here…"
giggling again. "Doesn't talk to strangers."
sensible," Giles agreed.
talk to me?" Anne asked. "He knows me, doesn't he?"
Giles said slowly. "Is there any chance that you could draw Thomas for
girl looked at her grandmother for confirmation, and then she turned her paper
over and began to draw. Giles wasn't expecting much. The drawing skills of a
four year old, in wax crayon, were not likely to give him a detailed picture of
what the child might have seen. She finished her picture and scurried over to
show the strange new visitor her creation.
you." Giles took the picture and looked at it. The figure Ruth had drawn
resembled a tadpole, big head, tiny limbs, but what was interesting to him, was
the fact the figure appeared to be holding something.
this?" he asked, pointing at the line.
Then, since Mr Giles seemed to expect an answer, she frowned, as though
concentrating, and mumbled, "It's… stuff?"
What kind of stuff?"
again, already losing interest, and asked her grandmother, "Play,
Anne said yes,
and Ruth collected her favourite doll from the toybox. She opened the doors to
the garden and skipped outside. On the patio, she looked back inside.
"Thomas! Come on!"
for the little girl to cross the lawn and enter her bright yellow Wendy House
on the edge of the lawn before saying, "What do you think?"
over and passed her the picture. "You're a headmistress, Anne. What do you
make of this?"
head and so on is typical of her age group. But… Claire told me that Thomas
always carried something. She said it looked like a big stick."
that's what Ruth has drawn. Interesting…"
going to be late, you know," he said, his voice sounding vaguely
just a show," Buffy called from behind the bathroom door. "And we
have plenty of time."
forget to allow for the London traffic," Angel retorted.
The bathroom door
opened and Angel forgot what he'd been about to say. Buffy flowed out of the
room. The strapless salmon coloured dress clung to every curve. It moved as she
moved, like wisps of air in the breeze. Her hair was tied up high on the back
of her head, little tendrils teased out and trailing down over her face.
She'd expected some comment, a Wow, maybe. Even a negative of some kind but
Angel said nothing. He just stood there staring at her. She was just starting
to feel uncomfortable when he drifted toward her, as though he was being pulled
by some invisible force. His hand rose and touched her face. Buffy lifted her
eyes, and met his.
he whispered, lowering his lips to taste the pink of her lipstick. Caught up in
the moment she forgot to tell him off, and remind him they'd be late. Instead
she melted, a delectable timeless moment; when they pulled apart, Angel's hand
go?" she asked.
be a little late…"
imaginary friend real? If so - what was he? Was the child in danger? Fuelled by
Anne's conviction that the child's friend was actually some kind of stalker or
demon, Giles returned home and pulled out a handful of books to go through. He
spent the rest of the day and half the night going through his books, before he
retired to bed. He could hear fete-related activities in the kitchen when he
got up the following morning and renewed his search for information. He tried
the Internet, he tried more books, and eventually, he went back to Anne
Hammond's home. She'd told him that her daughter and granddaughter would be
with her, and that was good because he wanted to talk to them all.
sure how I can help you, Anne." Giles said. "I can find no evidence
of anything strange going on here. If Ruth's companion is just her imaginary
friend, he will probably disappear when she feels she can do without him -
after she's started school, perhaps."
Anne shook her
head. "No. Something is going on here, Rupert."
at Anne's daughter. "What do you think, Claire?"
"I don't know, to be honest. It's very strange that Ruth should see the
same man that was my friend as a child, especially when I've never mentioned
him to her." She smiled at Ruth, busily dressing one of her dolls into a
lacy dress to go to a pretend party. A second doll, sadly with only one arm,
was already sitting propped up against the sofa and suitably attired in her own
finery. Next to her, a small teddy bear had an empty teacup balanced on his
haven't thought of him for years." Claire added. "I thought we'd seen
the last of him."
his lips. "What did he look like? Sound like? Can you remember anything
considered. "He was tall. Funny voice because he talked in sing-song. Red
hair, I think. Made a strange sound when he walked because of the staff he
carried. He liked to…"
at her. "What did you say?"
Claire tried to remember what she'd just said.
"Uh..Thomas had red hair? Talked in a funny way?"
Giles waved his hand, indicating he wanted more.
"Umm.. was it that he always carried a
staff?" Giles frowned. Ruth had said… an idea was beginning to form.
"Anne - would you concentrate on one of Ruth's toys, please? One she
doesn't play with much."
Anne stared at
him curiously, and Giles could see the concentration on her furrowed brow. He
turned to the child.
will you get the toy nanny wants?"
looked confused, and Giles said again, "Please, will you get it for
Ruth ran to
the toybox and pulled out a red bus. She held it up triumphantly. Anne's
eyebrows shot up.
girl!" Giles said, glancing at Anne for confirmation. She gave a slight
at Claire, hoping she would understand the look he was giving her.
you get a toy for mummy, darling?" Claire asked quietly.
round in the box and pulled out a brown rabbit wearing a red shirt.
when her mother praised her, and she didn't notice that Claire was looking
Thomas here?" Giles asked.
Ruth looked at
her grandmother, and then pointed to the rug.
Giles sat back
in his chair and turned to Ruth's grandmother.
you think I could have some tea?" Giles asked politely. Anne blinked in
surprise, and was clearly reluctant to leave, but went out to the kitchen to
Thomas now, Ruth? Is he here?"
Ruth shook her
head. She was rubbing her head, and she whined, "Head hurts."
down beside her daughter and hugged her. "We'll be done in a minute
sweetheart, and then I'll get you some ice-cream. Would you like that?"
into a huge smile and hugged the bear to her chest, apparently approving of her
mother's suggestion, and her headache forgotten.
returned, bearing a tray with three cups of tea and a mug of orange squash, she
found her visitor discussing the merits of ice cream with her daughter. Was
this a technique to make Ruth feel at ease? Giles waited until the drinks were
handed out, and then asked Ruth, "Is Thomas here?"
girl looked up from the difficult task of drinking her squash, and her upper
lip glistened orange. She nodded, and pointed to the stool - oblivious to the
frown from her mother, who glanced questioningly at Giles.
that's enough for today," Giles said. "I hear your mother has a treat
and Claire took her to the kitchen to get her ice cream. It was one of those
that came wrapped from the freezer, and the little girl took her ice into the
sunshine to eat it. Claire came back into the lounge. "Do you think she's
being haunted?" she asked pointedly.
Giles replied. "I think… that Ruth is telepathic."
make sense," Anne argued. "What has that got to do with Thomas?"
she picked that up from you," Giles said calmly, eliciting a raised
eyebrow from her.
worried you so much when Claire used to see him, you were concerned that her
daughter would inherit him, and she read your concern. She only sees him
because you expect him to be here, and she reads it from you."
why he disappeared when mum went to make the tea," Claire added, catching
on. "So… my Thomas was just an imaginary friend?"
Giles said cautiously.
seemed real at the time," Claire said, frowning.
you know?" Anne asked.
the stick that Thomas carried," Giles explained, and was greeted with
blank looks. "Ruth picked up the image from you, but when I asked her what
he was carrying in her picture, she had never heard the word staff and replaced
it with one familiar to her. She told me he was carrying 'stuff.'"
Anne looked embarrassed. "I should know better than to jump to
conclusions, shouldn't I?" She was silent for a minute, watching the child
wave her hand at a fly that wanted to land on her ice cream. Then she said,
"What will happen to her, Rupert? Will this be a problem for her?"
be," Giles allowed, thinking of Buffy when she'd had no way of shutting
out the voices in her head. "If my suspicions are correct, she will need
to learn to control the intrusion of other people's thoughts, and I believe
that is the reason for her headaches. Proper training should help to block out
the thoughts she doesn't want to hear."
Ruth," Claire said quietly, suddenly realising that her daughter's life
had just taken a different course. "What happens now?"
friends who can help her," Giles said. "I will get them to contact
you. In a way, it is very lucky that we have found her so early; there is much
that can be done for her."
He stood up
and picked up his bag, and Anne escorted him to the door. "This is so
sure it must be," Giles said sympathetically. "If there is anything I
can do to help, don't hesitate…"
Martha was just
folding the last of the tea towels before going home for the evening. She had
the lights on in the kitchen and the radio on, and she was looking forward to
getting home and putting her feet up. Something… a tiny noise perhaps, or
intuition, made her pause - suddenly uneasy. She could see nothing through the
kitchen windows. Had she imagined something? Heard John moving about?
She turned the
radio off and listened, her heart pounding, and she ruefully wondered if she
would actually be able to hear anything over the noise that her own body was
making. She waited anxiously, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw
somebody walk past the kitchen window. It wasn't John. A young man arrived at the door and knocked
on the wooden frame. She knew he'd seen her nervous jump and feeling foolish,
she opened the door.
The young man
looked uncomfortable. He was a nice looking young man, just a lad really, a
little on the small side perhaps, and his clothes were clean but looked well
looking for… Giles?"
at the moment." Martha replied curtly.
The young man
looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry to have frightened you."
something about the young man that made Martha feel like she wanted to look
after him. Where on earth were her manners? "Won't you come in to
aside and let the young man move into the kitchen. He looked around with the
keen eyes of a cat, but she could tell from his movements that he was clearly
you like to sit down?" she paused as he perched himself awkwardly on the
chair. She frowned when he looked up at her. He might be young, but his eyes
told a different story. She'd seen that look many times in this house - the one
that said he'd seen far too much in his young life. She hesitated, not knowing
what to say. She couldn't help noticing that the boy was so thin, she could see
the bones in his wrist. That she could help, and before she could think about
it, she blurted out, "I've just made some raisin buns. They're still warm,
I think. Would you care for some?"
returned home to Summerdown, he was surprised to find Martha still in the
kitchen, and even more surprised to hear her talking to someone. The Porsche
was still missing from the garage, so he didn't think Buffy or Angel had
standing in front of the fridge when he entered the kitchen, busily pulling out
cheese and salad ingredients. He could see some bread rolls on the table,
already buttered and waiting for their filling. An empty plate lay on the table
in front of a thin figure wearing a tee-shirt emblazoned with an image of a
Lord," Giles said, stepping into the kitchen. "Oz?"
brings you to Westbury?"
Oz looked confused.
"You didn't get my email?" He sat down again and picked up his tea.
have missed that one." Giles glanced over the remnants on the table and
smiled. "You came to eat me out of house and home?"
could reply, Martha exclaimed, "Your young friend can't have been eating
much… look at how thin he is! He must have been starving - he's wolfed
down everything that I…" she paused when Oz spluttered over a mouthful of
tea and started coughing. She didn't miss the look that passed between the two
men. "Was it something I said?"
at Oz; the younger man gave the slightest of shrugs. You know her better
than I do.
kindly. "Oz is a werewolf, Martha."
is?" She looked curiously at the small young man, and then down at the
sandwich ingredients in her hand. "No wonder he's hungry." She put
the cheese back in the fridge and pulled out a large piece of home-cooked ham.
Without another word, she went back to the table to finish making the rolls
else, Oz's expression looked the same as before, but to Giles, it spoke
volumes. "She's used to sharing
this house with a slayer and a vampire," he explained. "What do you expect?"
biting appreciatively into his very thick ham roll. Giles sat down at the
kitchen table next to him. "How can I help you?"
Oz pulled his
bag closer and opened the flap. He took out a battered brown envelope and gave
it to Giles, who opened it up curiously to see what was inside. He found it
contained an assortment of charred bits of paper. He looked inquiringly at Oz.
coming across this stuff, Giles. Everywhere I went. Something big's coming.
Maybe even apocalyptic. I figured you ought to know."
yes, " Giles was saying absently, excitedly poring through the assorted
bits and pieces. "What happened to all these? The bits look burnt."
Oz gave an
almost shrug. "Long story. Didn't get to it in time." He indicated
the envelope in Giles' hands. "Make any sense?"
pieces are very small," Giles said doubtfully, picking up a charred piece
of paper with some faint writing on it.
It looked like the word 'lump' and 'ill'. Giles frowned. Did it refer to
some kind of illness? Symptoms of an illness, perhaps? Another dark piece had a
name on it. It looked like 'Henry Willis.' He remembered that there had been a
19th Century artist called John Henry Willis. Did this refer to him?
He also had a vague idea that a Henry Willis had been something to do with
music. Organs? Organ repairer?
remnant revealed 'bledown'. His brow furrowing, he wondered if the word could
be tumbledown. But… tumbledown what? A shack, perhaps? Maybe a place? He knew
that Stu had a brother that lived in Harbledown.
He became so
engrossed in the contents of the envelope he'd forgotten that he wasn't alone
in the kitchen until Martha said, "Will the… young man, be staying,
having to be reminded they had company, Giles responded, "Of course you
must stay. Buffy and Angel will be back on Saturday. They're going to be so
disappointed if they miss you."
help smiling. He'd heard the unspoken plea in Giles' voice, and knew he was
really referring to Buffy. She's going to kill me if you don't stay. He
considered his options. He had nowhere to stay in England yet; he'd flown in
and gone straight down to Westbury, worried that his information would arrive
too late. But… he'd done his bit, now. If it was anything to worry about, then
the problem was in Giles' safe hands. He was starting to feel jet-lagged and
didn't really want to go looking for accommodation right now. He was meeting a
friend of his in Belgium in a week or so, but he had nothing planned until then
and it would be nice to see old friends for a while.
off to make up one of the spare rooms. It would be so nice for Giles to have a
friend to stay for a few days.
Something normal once in while didn't hurt anyone…