2.3: Sunday morning.
In the gloom it takes me a moment to work out what Cato means by 'this'. I understand what he means when guides my hand to the problem he is talking about.
"Did this happen by itself or did it have help?" I ask.
"Does it matter? What are we going to do about it?"
"A bucket of cold water should fix the problem. What do you think?"
"Hmmm … I don't favour the water approach. What did we do last time we had this problem?"
"I'm not certain I can remember. It was quite a while ago … nearly five hours. Oh, hold on, I think I recall what we did. Do you want me to wake Nadia and Zoe? I'm sure they will understand that we want to use the bed."
"No. Don't wake them. I was thinking we could manage in here. The couch is quite comfortable … sort of. Or there is the floor, of course."
"I always admire the way you are constantly thinking of my comfort," I laugh. "OK. The floor will be alright."
Cato needs no further encouragement. He guides me to where he has laid out his bedding in front of the dying fire. The warmth from the embers will be enough to keep the winter chill away for a while. I realise he isn't planning on letting me return to bed any time soon when he places some more wood on the fire. It is an extravagant gesture given the price of fuel and our inability to forage for our own. But in a few days time we may not be in a position to enjoy the modest comforts of our living room.
"I take it you intend to have your wicked way with me," I simper when I recognise his opening moves in one of my favourites among the many bed sports we play.
"Most certainly. And don't pretend you don't like it when I do. Now what should you be doing at this stage?"
I know perfectly well what he means. This is the point at which my next action will either confirm I too wish to play this game, or express my desire for a different game. I reach for the shoulder straps of my nightie and let them drop off my shoulder. Cato wastes no time in accepting my offer and vigorously pulls the straps of my nightie downwards, effectively stripping me in a single motion. The sensation is electric, as well he knows, and its game on from there.
I don't know if I have more than two hours sleep all night and I feel quite sore by the time the sound of the toilet flushing alerts us to either Nadia or Zoe is awake. I look at the clock and see it is nearly seven o'clock. We have slept later than normal. We hastily make ourselves decent just before Nadia enters the living room.
"Sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was going to make us all some breakfast. We don't know what time Christine will want to meet us, and I think some food in our bellies is going to help us make it through today."
"That's alright. We were about to get up anyway," I reply, although the thought of another hour like this with Cato has its appeal.
Cato goes to shave and dress in the bathroom while I return to the bedroom to retrieve my clothes. Zoe is busy getting dressed when I enter.
"If you and Cato wanted to sleep together, Nadia and I could have slept in the lounge," says Zoe.
I stop still when I realise Zoe has used Cato's real name. She must have overheard me inadvertently use his name yesterday.
"Catlin … not Cato, Zoe," I reply. "And we don't mind sleeping on the lounge floor. We've slept in worse places."
"I understand your need for secrecy, but you should know that Aunt Christine and I have known you are Katniss and Cato for quite some time."
"And what lead you both to that observation?" I ask, taking care not to admit anything. It is possible Zoe is just guessing.
"A boy I know at school acquired an illicit video of you two making out inside the Hunger Games arena. Aunt Christine caught me watching it and confiscated the video. But not before she and I realised the similarity between you two and the people in the video."
"Who else has made this connection?" I ask, wishing Cato was here to help decide what to do.
"I doubt anybody else who knows you has seen the illicit video. If they have, then either they haven't made the connection or have stayed silent. Of course, it is possible people have seen the official Hunger Games recording, and identified you from that."
"You realise what you've just revealed could get you killed," I say. "Accusing someone of being a dead tribute from the 74th Hunger Games could lead to all sorts of official investigations. Official investigations which could end up with many dead people."
"Yes, I know. I have no idea how you fooled the Gamemakers and all the government officials, but the fact you are still alive proves the Capitol isn't all powerful. It can be defeated and now is the time to defeat it."
A chill runs through me which has nothing to do with the cold winter's morning. Cato has quietly joined us and heard most of our conversation. I don't think Zoe realises that in order to protect me and our unborn child, Cato would kill anyone who poses a threat to our secret. I dread the thought of Cato needing to kill Zoe, but for the moment he decides not to act. Zoe's safety is probably only due to Cato's agreement to break his cover in any case. But the need to do that is dependent on Christine accepting the nomination as leader of the uprising. I just hope Zoe's admission doesn't have dire consequences.
I finish dressing and the three of us join Nadia in the kitchen for breakfast. For a girl from the Capitol, Nadia at least knows how to prepare a decent breakfast from the meagre supplies in our larder. We tuck into our meal and the conversation between Zoe and I is forgotten for the moment.
We have barely finished clearing away breakfast when Cato spots a note lying on the mat by our front door. The message simply contains a time and an address a few streets away. We must now decide who is to attend the meeting. Christine may not want Zoe's presence, but her absence may make Christine suspect a trap. Similarly, we don't know if the message we've received is genuine. A few weeks ago Cato and I made the wrong assumptions about the message telling us of Nadia's arrival. Christine may have been captured and our suggestion of a meeting tortured out of her. Cato takes control, as he does from time to time, and decides I should stay here while he, Nadia and Zoe make the rendezvous. That way … if it's a trap … I'm still at large and may be able to effect a rescue. At least that is Cato's reasoning. I can't help feel I'm being kept away from the meeting in case things go wrong and Cato needs to silence Zoe and Christine in order to preserve our secret.
I manage to catch Cato alone for a moment as they prepare to leave our house. "Take care and whatever happens, don't harm Zoe or Christine," I say quietly. "We can work something out without unnecessary bloodshed."
"OK. I'm not comfortable with the idea of killing them either," replies Cato. "But have a bag packed ready in case we need to make a hasty departure."
It's an unnecessary reminder. An emergency bag is always ready, and Cato and I have several hiding places arranged in case we need to make our escapes separately. I give Cato a lingering farewell kiss as he, Nadia and Zoe depart for the meeting with Christine Paylor.