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recognised that tone of hers. It always preceded a probing question.
    ‘Yes?’ she said airily, bringing up the saved letter on her computer screen, with just a quick flick of the eyes to the dark-haired girl who had now descended and was dancing behind her computer.
    ‘How are your sessions going in York?’
    ‘Fine. Why?’
    ‘Just wondered,’ Kristen said, injecting far too much nonchalance into her voice. ‘What’s he given you to read this week, then?’
    ‘Nothing. I told him I didn’t want any more books.’
    Kristen scowled, pushing her red hair away from her eyes in disbelief. ‘Are you sure that’s sensible?’
    Claudie looked up at her friend, trying to ignore the girl who was dancing in the corner of her eye. ‘I’m tired of reading,’ she said.
    Kristen’s grey eyes narrowed. ‘Your accent’s come back.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I mean, you always return to your French roots when you’re under stress.’
    ‘Rubbish!’
    ‘See! Perfect!’ Kristen nodded, pointing a finger at her friend.
    Claudie shook her head, not daring to admit defeat, or to speak again.
    Kristen sipped her coffee slowly, not showing any signs of leaving until she had a full confession out of her.
    ‘I’m half-French. What do you expect?’
    ‘Aye, lass, but yer can’t ’alf speak Yorkshire when yer want to.’
    Claudie smiled. ‘Look - I’m perfectly all right. There is absolutely no stress here.’
    Kristen chewed her lip. ‘Well, if you’re sure?’ She made to go back to her own desk.
    ‘I’m sure,’ Claudie reiterated, eager to get rid of her.
    ‘Okay. But you know where I am if you need me.’
    ‘Thanks.’ Claudie watched as Kristen sauntered over to her desk, shaking her head at her own growing heap of paperwork. Then, turning round, Claudie spotted the little woman again. She was sure she would have disappeared by now; that she really was only a figment of her overactive imagination. But no, she was still there - smaller than life - but there all the same.
    ‘Well!’ the little lady began, her tiny hands resting on her exquisitely slender hips. ‘You’ve got to be the worst liar I’ve ever come across.’
    ‘What?’ Claudie whispered, shocked by the candid remark.
    ‘ There is absolutely no stress here! ’ She repeated Claudie’s remark with more than a hint of irony. ‘Well, what do you think I’m here for?’

Chapter 5
     
    ‘I think, perhaps, I’d better explain exactly who I am,’ the little woman began. ‘I always forget my manners when I meet clients for the first time. I just get so excited.’
    ‘Well, you already seem to know who I am,’ Claudie said, forgetting about Mr Bartholomew’s letter, and sitting back in her chair to listen to the little apparition.
    ‘Of course! We’re all briefed, you know.’
    ‘Oh?’ Claudie was becoming very intrigued.
    ‘Yes. It’s all in the job description. We must read through the client’s file before contact is made.’
    ‘I have a file?’
    The little lady suddenly clasped her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, dear! I’m not supposed to talk about it.’
    Claudie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Talk about what exactly?’
    ‘Our job.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘You know - angels!’
    ‘You’re an angel ?’ Claudie heard a little laugh escape from her but quickly bit her lip in case she appeared rude. ‘What? Like a guardian angel?’
    ‘If you like. But who coined that term, I don’t know.’
    ‘But,’ Claudie paused, observing the figure as if for the first time, ‘you haven’t got any wings?’
    ‘I know!’ she said, rolling her eyes in a practised manner. ‘And we don’t wear white feathers or haloes. And we don’t play harps either. We’re just normal.’
    ‘Then why are you so small?’ Claudie asked, peering down at the pen-high figure.
    ‘It’s simple if you think about it. Just imagine all the people who’ve died, and then all of those who are alive now. We wouldn’t all be able to move around if we were all the