Dolly Oliver had enjoyed a leisurely morning wandering through the bustling streets around her hotel. Shinjuku was a vibrant part of the city, with enormous electronic billboards on every corner and stores selling everything from computers to silk fans and kitsch novelties. It wasn’t often that Dolly was on her own. Even when her employers were away, Shilly was always about and Millie’s grandfather, Ambrose, spent a lot of time with her these days too. She rather wished he’d been able to join her on the trip, but he was in the process of selling up his farm and had to oversee the livestock sale. He had recently bought himself a delightful cottage in Highton Mill on the edge of the Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones estate. He told people that it was so he could be closer to facilities in case of an emergency but everyone knew that it had more to do with Dolly than any doctor.

Dolly had taken great delight in speaking to the shopkeepers in Japanese. She’d chatted away easily as she bought gifts, including a pretty wooden kokeshi doll for Alice-Miranda and a silk purse for Shilly. By her calculations the effect of the tablet was due to wear off at any minute. The opening speech for the conference would commence at two o’clock, giving Dolly enough time to take her parcels back to her room.

In the auditorium foyer, Dolly scanned the growing crowd. She didn’t recognise anyone and she was beginning to feel a little intimidated. A tall Japanese man walked towards her and bowed.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs Oliver, it is very pleasing to make your acquaintance,’ the man said. ‘I am Nobu Taguchi from the Japanese Ministry for Invention and Innovation.’

Dolly smiled at the young man and extended her hand. He was the one who had telephoned her last week. She thought him very handsome. He was tall and muscular, and reminded her a little of Lawrence Ridley.

As she began to speak, she answered his question in perfect Japanese – except that on this occasion she hadn’t meant to. She wanted to speak to him in English as he had done with her.

Nobu smiled broadly and complimented her excellent language skills.

Dolly gulped. Something was wrong. She could think in English but she couldn’t speak it.

‘We are blessed to have many participants from around the world – but I must warn you, Mrs Oliver, that not many will be as skilled in the use of the Japanese language as you,’ said Nobu as he guided her towards a group of delegates.

Dolly undid the buttons on her blazer and fanned herself with the program as Nobu interrupted the huddle and brought one of the men out to meet her. She began to wonder if the air-conditioning was working properly.

‘Professor Dimble, may I introduce Mrs Oliver, the inventor of JAW,’ said Nobu. He extended his arm towards a portly gentleman whose eyebrows resembled a pair of fuzzy caterpillars. The man wore a yellow waistcoat with a matching cravat and a pair of round glasses perched on the very tip of his nose.

‘Oh, yes.’ The professor looked at Dolly and nodded. From the tone of his voice and the slight curl of his lip, Dolly didn’t think he was especially pleased to meet her.

She smiled back and bowed slightly, not game to open her mouth.

‘Now tell me, Mrs Oliver, – it is Mrs Oliver, not Doctor or Professor, isn’t it?’ he said with a sneer. ‘What on earth possessed you to use baked dinners? That’s a very pedestrian meal, don’t you think?’

Dolly looked at the man. She pressed her lips together in an awkward smile.

‘Mrs Oliver, are you all right?’ Nobu prompted. He thought perhaps the woman was a little hard of hearing.

‘Mmm,’ she nodded.

‘What’s the matter, Mrs Oliver? Cat got your tongue?’ the professor asked. He wondered if the woman was as stupid as she looked.

Inside, Dolly was seething. She couldn’t help herself. She launched into a detailed response to the professor’s initial question – except that it was in perfect Japanese. ‘In our family a baked dinner has always been the ultimate comfort food and I could think of no better place to start – of course you do know that we’ve expanded into other meals including curries and stews to better suit the markets we’ve entered.’

Nobu gave her a quizzical look. Professor Dimble looked as though he had just sucked a very large lemon.

Dolly asked if her Japanese friend would translate what she had said. Nobu frowned and nodded, then explained to the Professor.

‘I see,’ Professor Dimble said with a smirk. ‘I don’t suppose Mrs Oliver could have just told me that herself. Then again, I’d probably feel a little out of my depth here too, with all these real academics.’

Beads of perspiration began to trickle from Dolly’s temples and she could feel the heat rising in her neck. Professor Dimble was the rudest person she’d met in a very long time. Who did he think he was, questioning her qualifications, making her feel as if she didn’t deserve to be there? She wondered what his contribution to the world of science had been.

Nobu could see her agitation. ‘Would you like me to get you a glass of water, Mrs Oliver?’

Dolly politely declined and excused herself, walking at top speed towards the powder room.

Apart from feeling as though she could strangle Professor Dimble, she was worried about the tablet. She’d never had this problem before. Although she was thinking in English, no matter how hard she tried, it was Japanese that formed on her lips.

She looked at her watch. In the past, the effects of the tablet had worn off in about four hours. But that was before she fiddled with the formula again last week. She’d taken the tablet at half past seven and it was now almost two. Something had gone terribly wrong and Dolly hadn’t a clue how to fix it. She’d been working on a neutraliser to take in the event of such an emergency, but it was still in the laboratory at home, waiting to be perfected.

The powder room was a large and extravagant affair with a chaise longue in the corner of the entrance vestibule. She’d just have to sit it out – at least until the delegates entered the auditorium and she could scamper to the lifts and back up to her room.