I was my mother’s only child and the first grandchild of my generation, and as a result my early years were profoundly photographed. The photograph was taken in 1996, when I was six years old. Buds puffing out from my ribs, present enough to pinch but not to hold. You can see because I’m holding out bath toys to the camera, one in each hand, and I’m grinning.

I have recently lost one of my two front teeth. My shoulder-length hair is still blond-it would darken in later years to a reddish-brown-and it is flipped over my head to one side.

I’m kneeling, but the bubbles are thick and my body is visible only from the navel up. Patches of bubbles cling to my skin like the strategic gauze brushed over nude figures in classical paintings. I am in the bath at my grandparents’ house in Sydney. Yeah, like cars, saw horses, cops, KGB.Ībout half an hour later, Wade turned up, still in the battered old Moscovich, flashing a radiant smile.In the car, heading back to the hotel, Bond gave him a shopping list which included tickets on the first available plane to the United States, a valid passport with the right visas for Natalya, and some changes of clothes for the girl.A photograph of me as a child. The Police and Security Organs are looking for a man and a woman.ĭon't worry, James.We'll be subtle.We won't put you in drag. No.The booking was what in the trade is known as clandestine.Ĭlean as the proverbial whistle.No pack drill, no names, James. I try not to bother with these people so I told them I'd had no customers this morning.Good?Yes?īecause of the road blocks and their other games, James.Īfter a pause, Bond asked if he understood Wade correctly.What you're saying is that nobody's got the hotel under surveillance?

Whatever.Anyways, the outskirts are crawling with people looking to do dangerous things to you.I did a quick checkup, and for some reason they don't seem to know where you've been staying, James. Interchangeable, babe.If you don't know that, someone's been putting happy dust into your breakfast cereal.I don't know a single Russian who calls KGB anything else but KGB - yesterday, today, forever, like the ads for that musical, Kittens. Sure, that's why everyone still calls it that, or the old name Cheka. Bond sounded irritable.Why this farm track, Jack? They not take your passport at the hotel? Bond gave him money which made him even happier.

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