‘Don’t you sleep?’ demanded Penny as she answered the door, thanking whichever deity kept an eye on her these days that she’d got dressed before making breakfast. ‘Not when there’s a story to track down.’ he replied, following her into the kitchen. ‘Also, I’ve run out of tea bags. Hello, I’m Leo,’ he said to Frances. Frances had been finishing her cereal with one hand and tracing dreamy patterns on the jigsaws – which were still spread out on the table from yesterday – with the other. She looked up with a startled squawk. Penny offered an equally fervent thank you that her daughter was also dressed. Leo pulled out a chair. ‘So, what do you make of them?’ he asked Frances. ‘The jigsaws? They’re cool. Who are you?’ Penny sighed and flicked the kettle on. ‘He’s the reporter I met yesterday.’ ‘In what way cool?’ asked Leo. ‘Unique,’ said Frances.
