I retreated, ashamed of my thoughtlessness, and Elena began to scold her. Yesterday Monica thought she was going to die.'Elena, don't be cross with he.... I'm glad she's looking better.' Elena went on grumbling. I decided if I were Monica I'd have run away too, then chided myself for having unkind thoughts: Elena had some legitimate complaints. If it weren't for Monica, she'd still be safely in Bucharest, exporting dodgy Rumanian plonk to an apathetic world. There was a tap on the door and a head. "Good morning," I greeted him. "Let's get going!" I wanted to put him at ease, having noticed that he was very tense and that he was gripping the steering wheel tightly. I suppose in his position I would be feeling a lot of apprehension as well. I needed to quell his fears. "Cheryl seemed pretty happy when she got back to the room last night," I ventured. He gave no response, just continued to drive with a death-grip on the wheel. "Listen, it's okay, she was there with my blessing, not to. More

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