<strong>Dr. Amanda Vernecoombe, Outside the club</strong><br/><br/>I parked my vehicle in one of the many parking bays outside the club, switching off the engine and reaching for my small suitcase, resting on the front passenger seat. Stepping out and locking the door, I couldn't help but chuckle. My car looked horribly out of place, a small economic electric model, nestled neatly between a Ferrari and a Bentley. After the accident I'd been involved in nearly 20 years ago I'd avoided driving fast cars, preferring instead smaller, energy efficient models. This model in particular was particularly nice to drive, with the added advantage that it had minimal environmental impact. We all have to play our part, as they said.<br/><br/>I reached down for my suitcase, shaking my head and sighing softly to myself. Every year I promised that I'd not bring any research papers or a notepad, and just enjoy time with the pets the club offered. And here I was, carrying with me two writing pads and a thick, fifty two page document entitled, "The effect of modified leg restrainers on Spanish and Portuguese pet behavior circa 1988". It was a crushingly dull paper, and one I'd been forced to proof read and annotate by one of my colleges at Cambridge University. Still, that was my job, and that was what paid my wages.<br/><br/>Walking up to the main entrance and offering my membership card to the security guard at the door I strolled into reception, glad it was empty, barring the receptionist of course. Whilst there was nothing wrong with the people at the club, most were bored to tears by my main conversational topics. Leaning down, I dug into my suitcase, pulling out two envelopes to hand into reception.<br/><br/>One was addressed to 'Professor Anton Paperwaithe', a Moroccan professor who now taught at Cairo University. It was he who had recommended the club to me, being a long standing member of at least seven or eight years, and also he who had recommended me to the club. I'd met him when he travelled over to the UK for few months, helping the Museum I worked at catalog a new set of items, and from then on I'd kept close regular contact with him via email, exchanging research pieces and whatnot. In his envelope was a small note wishing him well, plus a couple of hundred euros, a combined birthday and Christmas present. Anton only came to the club during the Winter months, when he had no teaching commitments, and as a result few people had ever met him, much less talked to him socially. He always appreciated the money, having a colossal weakness for the expensive spirits the club sold.<br/><br/>The other was a joint birthday card addressed to 'Miss C. Norrington and Ellissa'. Celia Norrington (though few actually knew her first name) was a rather mysterious figure at the club, a long standing member of over a decade, and one of its largest beneficiaries. Ellissa was her personal pet, having been with Norrington for as long as anyone at the club could remember. An unusual free thinking pet like those at the club, she was treated with the utmost care by Norrington, and was treated very differently to the other pets the club possessed. The very fact that birthdays cards were addressed to both of them (both sharing birthdays in the same week) was testament to her unique position. No-one ever knew when the pair flew down for their annual fortnight holiday, so it was always customary to leave their card at reception.<br/><br/><strong>"If you would be so kind as to offer these cards to their respective addressees when they arrive?"</strong>I asked the receptionist, handing her the two cards.<br/><br/><em>"Of course Doctor Vernecoombe"</em>smiled the receptionist, taking the cards and placing them in two separate pigeon holes.<em>"Can I help you with anything else?"</em><br/><br/><strong>"No, thank you."</strong>I smiled back, adjusting the glove delicately on my left hand.<strong>"I will be checking into a local hotel for a few days, I am required to finish a piece of work before I can indulge myself."</strong><br/><br/><em>"Work before pleasure eh?"</em>The receptionist laughed, picking up a scrap of paper from her cluttered desk and writing down a number and a name.<em>"Call this number, and ask for Capucine. Tell her your membership number, and you'll get a 75% discount at the Boscolo Exedra, a beautiful hotel very close to here. I've stayed there a few times myself."<br/></em><br/><strong>"Thank you."</strong>I nodded, taking the paper from her and folding it neatly into my coat pocket.<strong>"I will do that. Hopefully I shall be back within a few days."</strong><br/><br/><em>"Sure thing Miss. Verncoombe. Have fun!"</em>The receptionist winked at me as I left the cool air conditioned reception, and back into the baking sun. Time to make a phone call...