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remembering the sessions he’d had in a small front room in an old three-storey house in north London. He’d still been in a wheelchair then. ‘He told me that
I was failing to acknowledge the truth of my injuries because, if I did, it would mean actually admitting that my parents were dead. I told him that I
knew
my parents were dead, and he was
just wasting Gillian’s money.’ Calum laughed briefly: a harsh sound. ‘If I could have walked out, I would have done. Instead we had to wait half an hour until the session was over
and Mr Macfarlane came to get me.’ The thought of Macfarlane made him glance at his watch reflexively. ‘Speaking of which, you’d better get that drink down your throat.
He’ll be here in a minute or two.’
    Tara eyed the smoothie suspiciously. ‘What exactly
is
that thing?’
    ‘Goat’s yogurt, Manuka honey, kiwi fruit, bran and banana, all expertly blended together. It’s the best thing for you in the morning.’ He indicated the kettle. ‘The
water’s just boiled as well, and I got in some of those green-tea teabags that Gecko says you like.’
    Tara glanced around and reached out for the sealed container of ground coffee that Calum kept on the counter. Opening it, she poured a large spoonful into a mug and then poured hot water from
the kettle into the mug. She swilled it back and forth for a bit, and then put it down. Looking around, she saw a large bowl in the sink. Retrieving it, she poured the breakfast smoothie into it,
then added the coffee, straining it through a tea strainer to remove the coffee grounds. Finally she whisked the whole lot together with a spoon, then raised the bowl to her lips and drained it in
one go.
    ‘That’s better,’ she said, yogurt still on her upper lip.
    Calum watched with morbid fascination. ‘That was disgusting. And I thought Gecko said you’d given up coffee.’
    ‘I had, but it hadn’t given up on me.’ She gazed up at him through her black-encrusted eyelashes. ‘Look, I
need
the caffeine to keep me going, OK?’
    He raised his hands in surrender. ‘OK, that’s fine, but you know that coffee isn’t actually a stimulant if you drink it regularly, don’t you? The apparent stimulant
effect is only due to the fact that your body gets used to it and gets withdrawal symptoms if it doesn’t get a regular dose, and what you
think
is a stimulant effect is actually just
your body avoiding the withdrawal symptoms.’
    ‘Whatever,’ she growled. ‘At least it makes me feel better.’
    Calum frowned. ‘And by the way – that’s a very expensive coffee to be mixing with fruit and goat’s yogurt. If you’re going to do that again, then I’ll get
some instant coffee for you. I wouldn’t touch the stuff myself, but at least you won’t be depleting my special supply.’
    Tara glanced at the container of coffee suspiciously. ‘Do you get that stuff imported?’
    ‘I do.’
    ‘Is it a special gourmet coffee?’
    ‘It is.’
    She winced. ‘Please tell me it’s not that special coffee that I’ve heard about – the one where the ripe coffee berries fall off coffee bushes growing wild in the jungle,
and they get eaten by jungle cats, and by the time the seeds inside the berries have passed through the digestive system of the cats they’ve been softened by the stomach acids, so if
they’re collected from the droppings, and cleaned and roasted, then the resulting coffee is really sweet and not bitter at all. Please tell me it’s not
that
coffee.’
    ‘It’s
not
that coffee,’ he said reassuringly. After a pause, he added: ‘Although that particular coffee, which is called kopi luwak, by the way, is exceptionally
good.’
    ‘You’ve drunk it?’
    ‘I have.’
    ‘And this isn’t it?’
    ‘It isn’t.
    ‘You’re sure?’
    ‘I would have remembered.’
    ‘OK,’ she said dubiously.
    ‘This is an organic nkempte from Ethiopia. It hasn’t been near – or through – any cats. Trust me on that.’ Calum took