“Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!”
Sir Walter Scott, Marmion, Canto vi. Stanza 17.
Scottish author & novelist (1771 – 1832)
At first I think it is the rain on the windows that has woken me from my slumber, but as I listen more carefully, I hear a pounding on my door. Not sure who on earth would be knocking at this hour, let alone on the day I am released from The Clinic, I wait a few more seconds before curiosity gets the better of me.
I fling on my fluffy purple dressing gown and flick on the hallway light. The shadowy figure behind the glass stops pounding as I pad down the stairs and pull open the door. In amazement, I stare into Taylor’s chocolaty-brown eyes. He is drenched and droplets of water run down his face, suggesting that he has been stand
