KRISTI: Look Annie, I've got a confession to make. When I said I was a journalist, that wasn't actually true.

ANNIE: Really? I must say, I did wonder.

KRISTI: No, it was just an excuse to meet you, that's all. I hope you don't mind terribly.

ANNIE: It doesn't make any difference to me what you are. I still don't see why you're so interested in me, though.

KRISTI: I'm interested in your ideas, Annie. I read that fantastic article of yours in “Earth First”.

ANNIE: Which one was that?

KRISTI: The one about “Gender and Ecology”.

ANNIE: Ah, yes. I was quite pleased with that, I must say.

KRISTI: And I thought: “Gosh, I've got to meet this lady, we've got so much in common, we'd have so much to talk about”.

ANNIE: Let's hope so. Tell me then, what do you do, Kristi, if you're not a journalist?

KRISTI: Oh, I work as a sort of personal assistant to my father.

ANNIE: To your father?

KRISTI: That's right. I do translations of business documents, and I interpret for him at meetings, and look after his correspondence. I hate it though, he's so conservative and right-wing. It goes against everything I believe in.

ANNIE: What line of business is your father in?

KRISTI: I'm not absolutely sure, Annie. Some of the time he buys and sells antiques, but he has other kinds of business, too. I suspect that some of it's against the law, even. But what can I do? He is my father, after all.

ANNIE: You know, it's really strange, the way you describe him. He sounds a lot like my father, as a matter of fact. Still, we were talking about your problems not mine.

KRISTI: We don't have to. You can tell me what's on your mind, Annie, if you feel like it.

ANNIE: I ought to keep it to myself really, but... oh, I don't know! I’m just so confused at the moment. I thought my father had died five years ago, and he’s suddenly turned up again, right here in Washdon.

KRISTI: Really? Have you seen him, then?

ANNIE: Yeah. I had lunch with him the other day. He left early, because he thought the police were after him. Oh, it's so horribly embarrassing, apart from anything else. He seems to want to be close to me, like I was still a little girl; he just won't accept that I've changed. And he's got this awful sentimental idea about “the family”. What family? Apart from me, there's just my brother and his horrible wife Juanita.

KRISTI: Isn't she the daughter of that Mexican businessman who was kidnapped? I read about it in the papers.

ANNIE: That's right. He's supposed to be worth millions.

KRISTI: I wonder who did it?

ANNIE: Juanita probably blames me for it.

KRISTI: You didn't have anything to do with it, did you?

ANNIE: Of course not! Kidnapping just one person is pointless; it doesn't change anything at all. Not that I feel sorry for him; I'm sure he deserved it.

KRISTI: It was a group of women who kidnapped him, wasn't it?

ANNIE: Looks like it. We've got this American lady called Lauren staying with us who says she knows some of the women behind it. Hey, I’ve got to be out of my mind telling you all this, when I don’t even know you! What am I doing?

KRISTI: Annie, you can trust me. It does you good to talk to someone who understands how you feel.

ANNIE: How do I know you won't go straight to the cops?

KRISTI: I promise you I won't. You can depend on me. Look, why don't you go on telling me about your father? It sounds extraordinary! Why did he disappear for all that time?

ANNIE: I can't tell you, Kristi. I really shouldn't have spoken to you in the first place. I'd better go.

KRISTI: Oh, very well. Can we meet again sometime?

ANNIE: Maybe I'll call you sometime. I’ve got your number. So long, Kristi.

KRISTI: Hello, Richard. Yes, I've spoken to her; she didn't tell me much. Do we have to? Yes, I suppose she might agree to see me again. But the thing is, I feel awful about it. It's hard to explain, but... Yes, I know I promised you a story. OK, OK, have it your own way. What, speak to her brother? There's no point; he's a fool. Anyway, his wife won't even let him look at another woman...