She woke him up the next morning with his breakfast. 'It's a very special day, Paul, isn't it?' 'Yes.' She bent over and kissed him. 'I love you, Paul. Can I start reading it now?' 78 'No, Annie, you must wait. It's important that you wait.' But she had gone blank again. He waited patiently for her to return and then repeated his answer, so that this time she would hear it. 'I'll leave you now,' she said. 'But you'll call me when you've finished the book, won't you? I've got some champagne in the fridge. I don't know much about wine and things, but the man at the shop said it was the best. I want us to have the best, Paul.' 'That sounds lovely, Annie. But there is one other thing you could do for me, to make it special.' 'What's that?' 'I'd really like a cigarette - just one, when I finish. There were some cigarettes in my suitcase.' 'But cigarettes are bad for you.' 'Annie, do you really think I have to worry about dying from smoking now? Do you really think that?' She didn't say anything. 'I just want one cigarette. I've always relaxed with a cigarette immediately after finishing a book.' 'All right,' she said. 'But long before the champagne. I don't want to drink expensive champagne with my favourite author with all that dirty smoke in the air.' She left and a while later came back with a single cigarette and a box of matches - with only one match in it. She put them quietly on the table and crept out of the room, not wanting to disturb her favourite author. Several hours later Paul wrote the two words which every author loves and hates most: THE END. He sat back in satisfaction. Then he bent over to the loose board in the floor.