‘Oh Paul.’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘What’s wrong?’ Cleo asked. ‘It seems perfectly all right to me.’ ‘You don’t know Mike.’ Paul explained. ‘He always tries to get me drunk. Excuse me please. I must go up and get my laptop and change. Are you going to stay here and finish the coffee. I’ll only be ten minutes.” ‘Succeeds too.’ Michelle said, her eyes on Paul’s back as he walked to the lifts in the foyer. In fact everybody’s eyes were on his back. I looked at her. I would need to get her on her own. There were a few things I’d like to get from her. Her knickers for one. It was a shame she had her friend with her. Perhaps she wasn’t going to stay. We chatted about the weather in England and Cleo’s adventure on Christmas Eve when she had crashed her hire car driving from London Airport to see us and had had to spend the night with another woman. It was a small word. I had only interviewed the woman, Rachel, for a job at my school the month before, and she and her partner had only moved. ’ Kokata had sort of wondered how moths built their homes, but finding out was not fun. It was hard, endless, back-aching work. Lei was driving him like a slave. If she wasn’t pregnant already, she certainly needn’t worry about becoming so before the work was completed. At dawn, when she finally allowed him to stop working, he fell asleep sooner than he could even think of touching her. His Lei was working herself just as hard as him, but she didn’t seem to notice the blisters on her hands beyond the point of bandaging them. Sometimes there was a kind of wild panic in her eyes, as if she already had a baby laying in a crib with no suitable home in sight. Kokata didn’t try to reason with her. In a way it was satisfying to slave himself to near death for her. Maybe a moth-man wouldn’t have needed instructions for what to do when building a moth-hive, but no moth or butterfly could have gotten as much work done in as little time as he had. Kokata was strong. Granted, he didn’t feel.
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