Albay pressed his intercom. A voice squawked, ‘What?’ I caught Dr Bairstow’s eye, just for a very brief moment, and then he looked away. ‘Tea.’ ‘What?’ ‘Tea.’ ‘Tea what?’ He gritted his teeth. ‘I would like a cup of tea.’ ‘I would like a cup of tea what?’ ‘I would like a cup of tea now,’ and wisely closed the connection before she could reply.
