There was a sofa, acoffee table, an armchair and there were two doors; one, he presumed, toa corridor. The other might be to a bathroom.Peter wriggled...his fingers, then his toes. He was okay as far as he couldtell, but he felt weak. The door opened and a male nurse in dark bluehospital scrubs appeared."Good morning. Nice to see we're fully awake now. How are you feelingtoday?"Peter didn't know how he was feeling, other than confused."Er, what am I doing here? I don't remember anything. What. But more significantly, it was exposure to classical ballet that sowed the seed of Harry's next fixation. Sitting in the darkened stalls, occasionally squeezing Priscilla's hand as a token promise of what awaited her back in bed, Harry had quickly realised that ballet offered a great deal besides aesthetic pleasure: it was a voyeur's paradise. Granted, there were no black stockings and suspenders on view in "Swan Lake" but he could relate easily enough to white knickers stretched. More

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