Chameleon 9

In Edinburgh, Chris woke late, to find himself under a distant unfamiliar ceiling. White, white ceiling, large white spherical paper lampshade. White plaster moulding round the periphery, faint cracks running this way and that, and a faint powdery yellow stain in one corner. Coving he thought to himself, and then It is all true. He lay there sleepily remembering yesterdays events. The house was quiet. In the background were the muted city sounds, mostly traffic but the house itself had that silence, that stillness that only an empty house can have. The window was a bright white rectangle set into the shadowy wall, the sun was on the other side of the flat, it was still morning. No curtains he noticed, then Ahh, shutters. A dark line down the side of the deep window reveal gave hint to the original shutters tucked away. Clues, all clues to the two strangers that were now part of his life. My real parents. Eventually his bladder threatened to burst forcing him to get up and go for a pee. He wandered down to the kitchen in his boxers and tee shirt, yawning and stretching. The kitchen was exactly as he had first seen it the afternoon before, tidy, neat. On the table, pinned down by a blue and white cylindrical vase was a neatly written note and upon that, two keys. Chris held the keys, front door, stairdoor, as he read the note.
" Teaching up at the university, George square, this week - left early and didn't want to disturb you."
" Make yourself at home, eat anything etc, we will be home around six and will sort out supper then. "
It was signed " J & A "
" ps will pick up a cable on the way home and get you online this evening, see you then "
Make yourself at home, cool, Chris thought and started exploring the cupboards. Most of Valvona & Crolla was there but not much teenager food. Lets try the fridge. Ok, lots of yoghurt and cheese, bottled water, milk and orange juice. Pouring himself a glass of orange juice, Chris took the milk to the table and went back to the cupboards for the big bag of muesli he had found along with some drinking chocolate powder, a white bowl, a spoon and a glass jug. With chocolate milk the muesli was much more appetising and he contentedly munched his way through two bowlfulls whilst strolling round the kitchen, peering into cupboards and drawers once again. One shelf contained cookery books, Indian, Chinese, Italian and some by Nigella Lawson. Pinned to a small notice board near the door were timetables and a calender with notes about meetings "Chris - first contact" it said in yesterday, along with some phone numbers, one of them his. He unpinned a postcard of an old german looking building to read the back. " Prague beautifull as expected. Conference oscillating between interesting and dull, again as expected. Hoping to see some progress in your work when I get back next month, will tell all the gossip then. James " Underneath the postcard a faded newspaper photo was revealed. Chris peered at it and a smiling sheep and lamb peered back but the writing itself had all faded, more clues. Once finished he went off to explore further. At the kitchen door he stopped and looked back, then came back in and washed his bowl and glass carefully in the sink and put everything away. Going into each room in turn he looked out of the windows. Chris always did this, he liked to know where he was, he looked but did not touch. There was something fragile about this new situation that he did not want to spoil. The door to the closed room remained that way, he got as far as putting his hand on the handle but again something stopped him. He went on to the sitting room.