The clock now said eleven. She stretched up, feeling her muscles crack, wiped her palms down her thighs and went to stand, arms crossed under breasts, at the window. Less than two minutes later the door was being struck a second time.
Taking a deep breath Elisabeth recrossed the carpet, grasped the handle and twisted. In the doorway stood a tall, slim, olive-skinned young woman decked out in full cheffing regalia.
'Mary Eleni Stavros?'
'Yes.'
Elisabeth stood aside. 'Please come in.' The immaculate whites topping black and white checked pants and sturdy mirror quality black leather shoes stepped into the room. 'Have a seat. Mr Christiansen sent up morning tea, if you would like some.'
The young woman poured herself tea, spooned one level teaspoon of sugar, poured in about as much milk
