"You're a beautiful woman Kim. Have I told you that before?" "No." Kim forced a smile, and leaned back against the large, thickly muscled arm of the latest British ex-pat determined to win her heart. His name, she thought, was Malcolm. Malcolm what exactly, she couldn't remember; she just knew that she had met him several days previously, and had been attracted by the heavy diamond cufflinks he had been wearing. Whoever he was, he had no shortage of wealth; in fact the only thing he did seem to be lacking in was good taste. His thick-lipped mouth hung close to her right ear, his breath tickling her throat. He was revolting enough to make a lifetime with Chris Tate seem like a good offer - well, nearly - but she was not a woman to look a gift horse in the mouth. She forced herself to relax, and to smile as though she enjoyed having the man dribble all over her designer blouse. She wondered if his IQ rating even reached double figures, and ruled that out immediately. How could anybody with even an ounce of basic intelligence think that the after shave he was wearing was pleasant? Especially when worn by the bucket-load. She tried to breathe in carefully, to avoid having her throat stripped to the bone by the raw chemicals in the air, and found herself hoping that Malcolm didn't smoke. If he lit a cigarette lighter, or struck a match right now, they would both go up. "Well you are. Very beautiful." He leaned even closer, although she would have thought that impossible. "Have you ever been married, Kim?" "Yes." She forced another smile. "But he died, in '97. It was a terrible blow." She didn't mention Steve. What was the point? Their relationship had hardly been fruitful. "Any kids?" He was trying to lean closer still, and she held her breath, nauseated by the offensive odour masquerading as after shave. "A son. He's two." She bit her lip. "His name is James." "Nice name. My father was called James." He tightened his grip on her shoulder. "How would you like to come home with me, Kim? There's plenty of room." "Really?" Her smile became a trifle strained. "Well you know, we have only just met." And I'm working on a lot of different offers right nowÉ He shrugged. "Whatever. Still, you know where you can find me. When you change your mind." "Sure." When hell freezes over. She watched him walk away, then took a deep, relieved breath. Five more minutes and the smell of that after shave would have had her hallucinating, and ready to agree to anything. Where were all the rich old men that one read of in books, with limitless fortunes and no close relatives to leave anything to? They had weak hearts, not to mention numerous other health impediments, and would warm no end to the gentle touch of a beautiful woman of her obvious talent. "Excuse me miss. I have to get through." The voice was Spanish, although the English was next-to-perfect. She looked up. A man stood before her, his hands resting on a wheeled tray. He was tall and good-looking, but for all the lights which sparkled in his eyes, his face had a weak look about it. He reminded her in an odd way of Steve. Handsome sure; intelligent naturally. But there was something there that begged to be led. "Sorry." She stepped back, watching him begin to push the trolley past her. "Do I know you? I haven't seen you here before." He shrugged. "I'm usually in my office. Until duty calls, if you know what I mean." He extended one beautifully cared for olive-coloured hand. "Doctor Antonio Salvo." "Doctor?" Her eyebrows raised as she took his hand, lingering suggestively over the shake. "Kim Robinson. So, er, you're in charge of the medicines around here? You know who needs what, and when?" "It's a great post." He smiled. "Pays well." "I'll bet." Possibilities were beginning to form themselves in her audacious and devious brain. "I'll bet that you know everybody here. Everything about everybody. Sounds like you're the guy that a new girl should get to know a little better." "I pretty much know everybody, yes." He matched her smile with one of his own, and she thought, for the first time, that she saw something spark within his eyes. Some suggestion that there might be something more to him that she had thought. Her smile grew. Maybe somebody somewhere was watching over her after all. "Were you in some kind of hurry with that trolley?" she asked him, dragging his attention back to the object he was gripping so tightly, and had been so determined to get past her earlier. He stared down at it. "Medication. For Toby Lourdes. He's the guy sitting on the balcony." He frowned for a moment, staring into her eyes with a look that needed no explanation. Lust was written in every molecule of his face, and she smirked. Every little helped. "You want to come and say hello? He's an important man in these parts." "A shame that he's ill then." "Yes." Salvo nodded. "And he has nobody to talk to all day, either. He's all alone in the world." "Shame." She fell into step beside the trolley as they headed out into the sunshine swamping the balcony. Long term plans were already forming in her mind. Life was just about to get interesting.

It was past lunchtime when Chris Tate, bedraggled, weary and thoroughly frustrated, wheeled himself into the lift at his hotel and pressed the button for his floor. Everything was deserted, the staff on their siesta break, and he was glad to be so alone. It might have been hard to convince the lobby personnel that he really was a guest, given his current appearance; and anybody who had tried to argue with him just then would have had a very unpleasant surprise. His patience had been pushed well past its limit. The quiet lift seemed to take an age to rise upwards through the building, and he was almost asleep when finally the doors opened and he was able to leave the small room. The walls had been beginning to close in on him, and he was relieved to escape the small space. A pair of tourists shot him a concerned look as he wheeled himself past them, but he ignored them. They either thought that he was a dangerous madman or that he was ill; either way he didn't much care. He waited until they had gone, then went to the window which looked out onto the beach. A great expanse of blue water met his eyes, and he let his gaze trail across the white-tipped waves and the flashes of colour which told him of the movements of merrymakers and seabirds. The huge amount of space calmed him somewhat, and he relaxed back into his chair. He liked to look at all that wide open nothingness. He could see colours, other than grey, and look at the sunshine and the clouds and the sky. He could hear the sounds of peoples' voices and smell fresh air. All of it was so different from that damp and cold room with its echoing emptiness and dreary sense of decay. Snapping suddenly back to himself with a jump, Chris turned from the window, scolding himself for having stooped to such a moment of reflection. It was a sign of weakness, and he despised such things in himself. They were alright for others, maybe, but not for him. He straightened his collar, making a vague attempt to look as though he had been anywhere but in prison for the last two and a half days, and ran a hand through his hair. He wondered if Laura was in the room, or if she was out somewhere. He rather hoped that the latter would prove to be the case. It would do the business no good, after all, if it turned out that she had been sitting in their room worrying about him all of this time. He had reached the door before he realised that he did not have a key. He groaned. Half of the things the police had taken from him on his arrival at the station had not been returned; and he had not remembered to stop off at the reception desk downstairs to get a key before heading up to his room. To go back down would require another trip in the lift, and he did not feel up to that just yet. The four confining grey walls were not exactly what he was anxious for. He hoped that it was a temporary thing; after all, he couldn't exactly go back to using the stairs. The thought brought a smile to his lips, the first in some time, and he shrugged off his worries, reaching out to knock on the door. Maybe he had better change his mind and start hoping that Laura was home. It was several seconds before he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. He lifted his head, aiming for the region above him where he had become so accustomed to seeing the faces of others. The door opened a crack, and he looked straight up into the clear, pale grey eyes of Laura Johnstone. She frowned. "Chris?" There was confusion in her voice for a second; then she moved aside as though pushed, letting the door swing wide. He entered quickly, worried about her. "Are you alright?" "I-?" She paused, staring at him, then smiled suddenly, her words bursting out in a rush. "I'm fine. I - I thought - I mean - When did you get out?" "Just now." He frowned. "Are you pleased to see me or aren't you?" "You know I am." She hugged him, then reached out to push the door shut. "Are you okay? I mean, that placeÉ" "I'm fine." He spoke dismissively, clearly ruling the subject out as something for further discussion. "What about the clients?" "Clients?" She frowned at him, gaping for a long, hesitant moment. "You're worried about the clients?" "Should I be?" He wheeled back slightly, so as to get a better look at her. "You haven't been neglecting them?" "I haven't seen anybody. I haven't really felt like it." She stared at him, looking faintly outraged. "I've been worried about you, Chris. I wasn't sure what was going to happen." "No reason to stop thinking about business." He headed for the desk at the other side of the room, glancing through the papers spread liberally across it. "Did you do okay with the meetings that first day?" "First dayÉ You mean the day that you disappeared?" She sounded distant and confused. "Yes. That was before I knew that there was anything wrong. Everything went just fine. The - the next day was when I realised that you were missing, and I went looking for youÉ and then I went to see KimÉ" "Oh." He nodded morosely, remembering his instructions that she should do just that. "What did the Ice Queen have to say?" "That she doesn't like it when you call her things like that." Laura frowned, finally getting a hold on herself and her emotions. "I like her, Chris. I'm sorry. I know that you have your differences, but she's not that bad a person. Not once you get to know her." He smiled, his eyes taking on a strange look, almost as if he had been expecting her words and was used to something similar. "Don't you think that I have got to know her? We moved to Emmerdale in 1990. I've known her since before then; since she first met my father. I know her, Laura. Far, far better than you do." His smile came back out for an encore. "Believe me, I've been through it all. Was I being too hard on her, might I have been mistakenÉ But it all boils down to the simple truth that I wasn't wrong, and she isn't the victim here." He shook his head, turning away and heading for the window. "Let's just forget it." "But why?" From just her words he could tell that she was frowning, despite the fact that his back was turned. "Doesn't it mean something to you that she felt so threatened by your presence here that she had to have you arrested, just to feel safe? Chris, you have to take a look at yourself. You're going to give her a nervous breakdown if you carry on with this vindictiveness. She has a young son to bring up." "Yes. I know." He whirled around to face her, his expression suddenly hard. "He's my brother, remember? My father's son. He should be with me and Zo‘, back in Emmerdale." "Maybe he would be, if you hadn't been so stubborn." Her eyes showed a challenge, and he almost rose to it; then shrugged and turned away. He was tired; painfully so; and his head ached. He already knew the course that this argument would take. He remembered it all with the others; Zo‘, Kathy, RachelÉ Not one of them prepared to believe that he might be the one telling the truth. They were all supposed to care for him, and to be on his side; but at the first sign of a nice smile and a little creative razzle-dazzle, they had all abandoned ship. Kim had had them all eating out of her hand at one point or another, and it looked as though Laura in the here and now was not going to be any different. Part of him wanted to yell at her for being such a gullible imbecile; but the truth was that he simply didn't have the energy. Maybe he would yell at her tomorrow. Or later today, when he went to see about flights back to the UK. "Don't walk away from me Chris." He was heading for the bedroom when Laura spoke, and her words amused him. He stopped and looked back at her, eyebrows raised, and as their eyes met he saw something spark within her. Her shoulders slumped in sudden release, and she smiled. "Sorry." "Forget it." He grinned. "Look LauraÉ Things have happened between Kim and me. Lots of things. I don't plan on going into detail, because I don't want to fight you. I really don't. But I have to ask you not to mention this again. If you do, it could seriously damage what we have here, and I don't want that to happen. Really." "You won't ever forgive her, will you." He met her gaze and held it, his expression coolly appraising. "No. I won't. I don't expect you to share in my hates and vendettas, Laura, but I would appreciate it if you'd keep your feelings about them to yourself. You don't know Kim, no matter what you think. She manipulates people, and whether you're prepared to see through that or not, it's the truth." He smiled. "Now that's enough. I don't want to hear her name again, okay? We're leaving the country just as soon as we can get a decent flight, and I promised her that I wouldn't go near her again. I want this to be over." "So do I." She was surprised to hear that they were going back to Britain so soon, but it seemed like a reasonable compromise. She circled his shoulders with her arms. "Okay, I promise. No more Kim." "Glad to hear it." He led the way into the bedroom, glad that she was behind him, and therefore unable to see his smile. No more Kim. He was prepared to stick to that deal; for the next couple of hours at least.