He wished he could sleep. Stilton had given him the best part of two and a half hours. Maybe he could sleep. He closed his eyes. It wasn’t going to work. He thought about calling room service. A shot of spirits. That could do the trick. Then the phone rang. ‘Calvin? It’s me. Kitty.’ ‘Hello Kitty.’ ‘Wossup? You sound flat as my Aunt Flo’s Yorkshire pudding.’ ‘I’m lying down. Your old man kind of ran me ragged today.’ This was a lie. It was not the day or the man that had worn him out, but the night and the daughter. ‘I could soon fix that. I get off at nine. I could be over there in a flash.’ ‘Kitty, I don’t know how to say this, so maybe I should just say it as it comes. I know there’s a war on, and I figure the war does strange things to the way people behave. Men and women. But before we leap into bed again, don’t you think we should talk?’ ‘Woss to talk about?’ ‘I don’t know. That’s just the point.
