The first thing that registered – just for a second – was how stern she looked. But moments later, as she saw me, her face contorted and she screa...ed.I stepped toward her, stretching out my hand.Her face screwed up even more. “No! Keep away! Leave me alone!”I didn’t understand. This was my wife! “Alice!” And moved closer.She backed away.I moved more quickly, reached out, touched her shoulder.She convulsed and collapsed. I didn’t understand, but I had to do something. I believe that’s a ‘man. They don't let me type the complicated legal documents because I make toomany mistakes. But I usually manage not too badly with letters to clients,and I do all the basic, everyday things around the office, orderingstationery, opening the mail, filing, making tea, and so on. I make littlemistakes all the time and people treat me as the office airhead. But thetruth is I find it difficult to concentrate when I'm constantly obsessingabout Dave's cock. My mind is forever filled with images of. I..." "That's all right, Anita. May I call you Anita." "Yes, please. That is the least I can do." As she rubbed the corner of her eye once again to wipe away a small tear I caught a glimpse of some round red dots on her arm. She saw me notice them and quickly pulled down her sleeve to cover them. She was an addict; probably heroin or cocaine I guessed. She quickly reached for her coffee and took a sip; suddenly too embarassed to look me in the eye. We sat silently for awhile. The MP in question was Sir Alan Henderson. As soon as he had heard the man's name, Alexander had been reminded of his beloved and vanished Emma. And now that he was Sir Alan's guest he saw her picture on a sideboard in one of the reception rooms.It was a younger and happier Emma whose schoolgirl face smiled out at him. But it was certainly the same delightful if foul-mouthed and well plastered woman he had rescued from a night in a police cell.Sir Alan nodded and Lady Henderson looked sad,.
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