Short one for now.


Ruth sat and stared at the rose.

No card, nothing that tied it to a florist or a shop; simply a red, thorn free rose, wrapped in a single piece of pale pink tissue paper.

She had already spread the paper on the kitchen table, smoothing it out. Now she held it up to the light. Nothing.

It bothered her.

She felt not pleasure but agitation.

Someone had gone to the rather unorthodox trouble of having it delivered and yet left no idea who they were.

Her mind ranged through the possibilities … but she was struggling.

Three names were all she could muster.

Zafar Younis, although alphabetically lagging, was her first suspicion. Cheeky, charming and tongue in cheek … it could be him.

Adam Carter, as with Zaf, possibly even in cahoots with Zaf … it might be him.

Ruth paused, temporarily distracted by the word 'cahoots'. Not a word often used in Five circles but perfectly fit for purpose and with a certain old world charm to it. She vowed to use it more often.

Greg Bailey, she thought, pulling herself back to the task in hand: Greg Bailey, an old flame from her early years at University. She had recently bumped into him whilst attending a recital. They'd gone for a drink, no more, nothing promised, nothing expected… less likely to be him but still a possibility worthy of consideration.

And that was it.

If it was Greg then no doubt the rose was all it appeared to be and a phone call may follow in the next day or two.

If either Zaf or Adam, or both, then the flower was not quite as it seemed and there would undoubtedly be a test to accompany it. A test to find the truth.

And as predictable as that might be, there was no way that Ruth could resist the challenge of a test.

She stood up, carefully folded the tissue paper, slid it into her pocket and turned to the door.

There was one other of course, but as much as she wanted it to be him, she knew it was not. It couldn't be.

Only as she was about to leave did she remember the abandoned rose, which lay marooned on the kitchen table.

When the front door finally slammed shut, the red bud stood revived in a small, narrow cut glass vase in the middle of the living room.