Hamish Munro’s sporran was hanging in the center of the hallway about twelve feet above the floor on a mounted stag’s head. Somehow a symbol of the night everyone had taken part in. Things had gotten crazy and it seemed everyone was in the same state. Even Alice, nowhere to be seen at the late hour, Muffin sleeping by the cooker with a fresh bone under his nose and no one familiar, that wasn’t hired to be up at this time, was milling around.
Looking at Muffin guiltily, Rose realised she must have let him out of there room on returning in the early hours. Maybe that had been a good thing considering what they had got up to. He would have been traumatised if he had been locked in a bedroom with Rob and her and whatever acrobatics they had been trying out.
Rob made her scrambled eggs and to
