I am grateful that my neighbours are engrossed in discussing the merits of the entree and thus I avoid any more participation than an occasional smile...and nod of the head. Again I look down the length of the table, even though I know it was a vain hope. I feel someone touch my feet and I silently berated the oaf who is to my side. He does not appear unduly perturbed. I look back at the plate, placed before me and toy idly with the entree. Again I feel my foot being brushed. I frown in. ”“You don’t have to call me Master.”“I know that, Master. I just prefer it.”There was a tone from Paul’s cell phone indicating that he had received a text message. He pulled out his phone and studied the message. He frowned.“What is it?”“I’m to leave the country.”“Why?”“It is getting too dangerous for me to stay here.”“Rebecca.”“What is it, Peter?”“I’m sorry to spring this on you, but we’re going to have company, tonight.”Peter’s mother looked up. She was surprised that Peter knew anyone who. More

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