Chapter 16

“Tom said he didn’t mind,” Sam said, only losing a little of his enthusiasm. “And it isn’t that far, is it?”

“Not too far,” I admitted, hating myself for raining on Sam’s parade.

“I think there might be a flaw in your plan,” Mark told Sam. “What if Tim doesn’t want a couple of spotty teenagers cluttering up his house?”

“Billy and me aren’t spotty!” Sam tried to sound indignant, though this was spoiled by the smile that forced its way onto his lips. “And Tom said he’d butter Tim up.”

* * * *

Sam and a tired-looking Steve arrived on our doorstep on Friday night. Steve told us the interview had gone well. He liked the hospital facilities and raved about the operating theatres air-conditioning with its ultra-fine filtration system. Seemed this was important as it could remove a good deal of air-borne germs. It meant little to me, but I was pleased Steve was pleased.

“And they seemed to like me, too,” he said, taking his shoes off and pointing his toes towards the fire.