He rubs his eyes and then throws back the covers. Who the hell could it be at this hour? People don’t just drop by unannounced. Well certainly not to his place. When he lived with Annabelle the postman would occasionally call with boxes of manuscripts for her to read, but even he seemed to understand that it was best just to leave things on the doorstep. Stretching out a hand, he picks up the alarm clock, and he is surprised to see that it is now nearly twelve noon. He pulls on his T-shirt and his boxers, before opening the bedroom door and passing into the living room. He crosses the room and looks out, but unless he actually opens the window and leans forward it is impossible to see who is at the door. The sound of the doorbell is still ringing in his ears, and so he drowsily grabs a pair of tracksuit bottoms and then steps into his training shoes without bothering to undo the laces. He lumbers down the stairs and opens the front door, and he immediately recognises the man standing before him as Danuta’s friend, Rolf, but it is difficult to know if the agitated individual is frightened, or slightly crazed.
