‘Corinna? Breakfast is ready.’ I opened my eyes again to find Daniel kneeling by the bed and holding my hand. His hands are always warm. I lifted my head and kissed him. He carefully kissed me around my eyes. I imagined I could feel the bruising retreat under his kisses. I stood up and he held out my dressing-gown for me so I could climb into it. I tied the cord around my waist, and he led me into my kitchen, drawing out a chair for me. On the plate in front of me was a perfect eggs benedict on light rye toast with fresh broadleaf parsley from Ceres and a side order of bacon – several rashers thereof – along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and a steaming mug of coffee. I fell upon it like Saul smiting the Philistines, admiring as Daniel sat opposite me and tucked into not so much a big breakfast as a breakfast to feed a medium-sized school canteen. There were poached eggs, grilled tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, Cumberland sausages, spinach leaves, guacamole and a double helping of fried bread.
I drank my coffee thoughtfully and wondered if I dared to raise the subject with him. Jewish dietary laws were matters we had skirted around and never really discussed. Most people know the word kosher, though I gathered it was far more complex than pork and seafood. These were undoubtedly traif, or forbidden, but there was a lot more to it than that. I wondered how modern Jews felt about rules that probably made a lot more sense when you were wandering around in an unrefrigerated desert. I had no memory of raising the question of traif before, and debated the respective merits of asking, or keeping a tactful silence. I decided upon the former. ‘Daniel, darling, I hope you don’t mind me bringing the subject up, but I’m curious. This bacon is amazing. Made no doubt from animals raised in a spa and massaged daily by muscular youths in exciting loincloths, but … what is the story here?’
My beloved smiled his most melting, sloe-eyed smile. ‘Oh, you mean the zebra? Yes, it’s really good, isn’t it?’ And he shovelled another strip of it into his delectable mouth.
‘Zebra? Black-and-white-striped horses with attitude? Those zebras?’
‘Oh yes. Just outside Tel Aviv there are huge zebra farms. And it tastes just like bacon, or so I believe.’
I considered this while helping myself to more of it. ‘So, as you drive past these zebra farms, do the inmates make any noise in particular?’
He gazed at the ceiling. ‘Oink?’
I gave up. His personal interpretation of Judaism’s dietary laws was no business of mine anyway. I gazed at the Saturday Age to see if anything took my fancy, but after a few minutes of that I folded it up and put it face down on the chair. I exchanged a look with Daniel and his chin inclined. ‘Quite right too. I think I would prefer to read a book. The News from Abroad will only spoil your breakfast, and that would be a pity.’
‘A tragedy,’ I concurred, but made no move towards my bookshelves. First things first …
Before long I was gazing at a platter swept clear of everything that had so recently adorned it. Even the hollandaise sauce had been mopped up with my toast. ‘And so … before you set out upon your adventures, Daniel, let us consider our sources. Is there anyone we have forgotten who may be able to help us?’
Daniel thought about this and blinked. ‘Kylie and Goss? I don’t think so. Nice girls, but they’re from Nunawading, aren’t they? But maybe worth a shot.’
‘Keep guessing,’ I suggested, and his dark eyes opened wide.
‘Of course. If anyone knows anything about the drug scene, it is your worthy midshipman. Why not summon him?’
I did so, with the promise of breakfast, and Daniel and I exchanged glances. Jason would more likely divulge confidences to me, so without a word my beloved returned to the kitchen to prepare a midshipman-sized breakfast. My doorbell rang almost immediately, and I opened the door on my devoted second-in-command. He looked offensively healthy. He had filled out wonderfully from the emaciated junkie I had adopted. His hair, formerly limp, broken and filthy was now aggressively blond and curling. His skin shone with healthful vitamins. And his eyes! Blue as cornflowers, with dazzling white instead of yellow as their backdrop. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt (plain, for once) and the muscles on his biceps seemed to be fighting to escape. He saluted smartly, though I saw his eyes widen at my particoloured eyeshadow.
‘At ease, Midshipman. Your breakfast will arrive as soon as Daniel can cook it for you. Please, take a seat. And what would you like to drink?’
‘Got any Coke?’
‘Sorry. But I have juice. Made from fruit and everything.’
I gave him some pineapple and mango in a long glass and he gulped it down in one long, slow slurp. I watched, fascinated. Not for the first time I wondered where teenage boys manage to store all the food and drink they consume. He set the glass down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand (reminding me at once of Horatio) and grinned at me.
‘You seem to have slept well?’ I suggested.
He nodded.
‘Yeah, Cap’n, I always sleep well these days. And I love the weekends. I wake up at four, same as usual, have a Coke and go straight back to sleep again. I’d just woken up when you called.’
‘Same here. Jason, I’m happy to feed you today, but I was wondering if you knew anything about our home invasions.’
His face instantly clouded over, with possible thunderstorms later on. I realised I had not expressed myself with anything like the delicacy requisite to the occasion. I plunged in at once before his feelings could be hurt any further.
‘Jason, let me hasten to assure you that I do not believe for a moment that you’re involved in anything untoward. I’m sorry. It probably sounded like that, but that was not what I meant at all. We think we have some possible clues, and we were wondering if you could enlighten us.’
The atmosphere lightened visibly. Jason was so easy to read. Every passing thought showed in his face. It was just as well he was on the straight and narrow. He has no talent for dissembling.
‘Okay, I’m listening, Cap’n. What have you got?’ He leant back in his chair and stretched. His T-shirt rode up, showing his flat belly and navel; he was as unselfconscious as a cat.
‘Jason, what do you know about Kilmarnock?’
That brought the thunderclouds back to his face, but a different set. This was fear rather than outrage.
‘You’re not thinkin’ of movin’ there, are ya, Cap’n? Don’t do it! It’s a bad place.’
‘No, we’re not going anywhere. We’re staying right here in Insula. But we think someone in Kilmarnock might be looking for us, and not in a good way. And we thought you might know people who know people …’ I left the sentence hanging. He caught on at once.
‘Well, yeah, Corinna. I’ve heard stuff.’ He placed both hands on his head and rubbed his scalp, for no reason I could see. ‘See, most people come into town to score. It’s still the biggest source of … stuff. There’s still lots of hangout places the cops don’t know about. And some of the guys I used to hang with … well, I see them sometimes.’
‘Do you give them anything?’
He gave me a modest smile. ‘Yeah. Food, mostly. They hardly eat anything. And sometimes I’ll give them money, but not enough for them to score. Five bucks gives you a feed at Maccas, but you can’t buy anything else with that.’