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juggles. He juggles a variety of items, starting with fruit. He juggles a knife, fork and a spoon. He throws the knife and it sticks into the edge of a cupboard. This is a butter knife, mind. He does the trick again, juggling the knife, fork and spoon and flicking the knife so it sticks in the side of the cupboard again. Same place.
    â€˜He juggles Helen’s cigarette lighter, cigarette packet and the car keys. They all begin to make jokes about Earthlings.It becomes the theme of the night. Earthlings take oxygen for granted. Ilsa swears it is Helen who raises the question of Martian procreation and physiognomy. Helen agrees, it was she who fancied him first. He’s quite beautiful, apparently. He has flecks of grey in his hair. Very clear eyes. Brown. Dark. It was light, funny and they all have no clothes on. James has sex with both girls, together.
    â€˜The girls are embarrassed to tell this part to the police and to me later. They make the point they did not have sex with each other, but both with him, at the same time, and it was a lot of fun. They are too drunk for orgasms, says Helen. Very nice, says Ilsa. Oh, wow, says Helen. They giggle, over the phone. They are maybe early twenties, these girls.’
    Frank waved his hand in an appropriately European gesture.
    â€˜He has a strange back. He has strange skin on his back. He says it’s where his wings were. Burn scars?’
    Iris shrugged a yes.
    Frank shrugged agreement. ‘They sleep. The girls in the double bed where all the fun had been and James in the single bed also in the room. Each of the girls got up in the middle of the night to pee. All is well, if groggy. At dawn they were awakened by the smoke alarm. It’s one of those small plastic ones which gives a piercing uninterrupted squeal. Ilsa wakes first. The room is full of smoke. Acrid smoke from burning plastic. James is fully clothed. He’s feeding the fire. He’s piled the cane chairs and the table against a cupboard in the kitchen. The furniture is well alight, the fire bending off the ceiling. Ilsa screams, wakes Helen. James is feeding the bedclothes from the single bed to the fire. He’s singing something. Like a nursery rhyme. Ilsa grabs shorts and a top. The window in the kitchen pops, a rush of air and heat, everything gushes. Helen is in the bedsheet, they flee. Other guests are coming out of their rooms. The alarm continues.
    â€˜A road worker is already up, in his fluoro vest. Goes in, punches James, drags him out. People grab fire extinguishers. Too late. The fire is up into the roof cavity and spreads to the other rooms. James is in a state. He is upset. Perhaps incoherent. “I crashed. I crashed. I couldn’t save them. It was a crash. Ohdear. Oh dear.” This from other witnesses. Helen and Ilsa are hysterical. “I told you, crazy. Did I say, I said, crazy.” ’
    â€˜They still have not quite forgiven each other. They are resilient, though. Wrong Martian at the wrong time. The police have asked me to take a look at him at Biara tomorrow.’ He contemplated his barely touched wine.
    Iris said, ‘I repeat my assessment. Check him for schizophrenia. Possibly triggered by the alcohol and drugs and whatever else he might have been on. He may have been acting out a psychotic episode – burning the voices in his head? Reliving the burns on his back, or the burns on his back are the result of a prior psychotic episode. You don’t need me for this, Frank. You know this already. Anyone can do this, better than me.’
    â€˜Well, not better than you. He’s not obviously dissociative. He’s coherent in his delusion. All by the by. I need to know if he’s a pyromaniac.’
    Iris watched Frank studying her. She asked, ‘Has this got anything to do with the school explosion?’
    â€˜It’s unlikely.’
    â€˜Unlikely?’
    â€˜The police think it is possible for him to have travelled this far.