 Eight Months on Gaza Street, by Hilary Mantel, narrated by Sandra Duncan. Part One Confidential memorandum from Director Turidup Williaman Sharper, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, to all ex-Patriot staff, dated the fifteenth day of the month of Shahwal, 3 July 1985. I need not remind any one of this week's tragic events involving Turidup employees. In order to safeguard the company's position in these very difficult times, I must request all staff and families about to depart on leave to behave as follows. A. Refrain from talking to the press whatever your holiday destination. B. Refrain from public speculation about the recent deaths. Remember that the matter is still under investigation by the Saudi police and Her Majesty's representatives. C. Exercise the utmost caution in personal conduct between now and your departure. Dispose carefully of all items or substances which could attract the interest of the police, and do not leave your compound without your documents. I feel sure that if these precautions are observed, we may expect a continuance of good relations with the Saudi authorities, and a smooth passage into the next five-year plan. May I take this opportunity to wish you, on behalf of Daphne and myself, a pleasant vacation and a safe return to the kingdom after Hajj. Sincerely, Eric Parsons. A day in a life condensed to a scramble at a check-in desk, a walk to a departure-gate, a day cut short and eclipsed, hurtling on into advancing night. And now the steward leaned over her, putting this question. I don't think so. They had already eaten. Dinner, she supposed. So much smoked salmon is consumed on aircraft that it is a wonder there is any left to eat at ground level. The steward had just now whisked her tray from under her nose. You could give me some brandy, she said. Two to get you started. Hand hovering over the trolley, he seemed to approve her choice, as if what lay ahead was something to brace yourself for, not to celebrate. And one of those nice plastic glasses, Francis Shaw said, please, across the aisle grown men were getting drunk on Qantro. One of them cocked an eyebrow at the steward. Sample complete. Ready to continue?