<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;"><strong>Emily</strong></span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;"><strong>On her bed</strong></span><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;"><strong>Fast asleep</strong></span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;">Emily lay on her right side, having settled there to keep the pressure off the wound on the left side of her head. The thin sheet that covered her had moulded itself to her; it was made of a superfine polyester and had actually cost more than silk, but Emily didn't like the idea of caterpillars being boiled alive just to make a sheet for her.</span><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: verdana;">She lay still, not yet dreaming.  Whatever else she was feeling, it wasn't guilt.</span>