“Can you please tell me what language they are speaking?”, I asked the seatmate with whom I had been conversing in a mixture of my poor German and...her excellent English.“They are speaking German”, she said, then noticing my puzzled look, she added, “They are from Switzerland.”“Oh”, I nodded. That explained it. Swiss German is about as different to what I normally hear as a thick Scots brogue is to American English.If language identification is a problem for me, imagine how difficult it is to. But I get lucky and just get a couple of curious glances.Donnie Boy is out ninety minutes later. He opens the door and leaves alone. Red is probably either still in bed or getting a shower before her own husband gets home.I watch him leave and drive past the house again, getting the number of the house.Then I head to my apartment.When I go in the door, Tina hops off the couch. Yeah, she's staying with me. She's got her own bedroom, but she never uses the bed.Yeah, I'm gonna get hurt. I already. It was light enough for Nicole to read it. The message was from her mum. Her father's car had been vandalised so she was going to collect him from his London office. They then made their way upstairs to get changed. It was the rule that school clothes had to be removed once home to prevent them from becoming damaged. Nicole very rarely challenged any of her parent's rules or that of her school. She was soon wearing something more comfortable, trainers, jeans and a sweatshirt. Samantha. It was a joyful exhaustion that came on with no thought and no planning, only a desperation to be together away from the watchful, meddlesome eyes of my parents. As soon as I caught my first normal breath and was able to bed down to pick up my pants without that dizzying feeling of wanting to pass out, it turned out we were under somebody’s watchful eye. “Shit!” I said in a whispered scream, scrambling to slide my pants up my legs, pull them over my hips, and zip up faster than Rick pulled them.