 
The Secrets of Moorvale Asylum

Sarah Starr

Published by Sarah Starr at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 Sarah Starr

Discover other titles by Sarah Starr

Dream Time

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Also by Sarah Starr

Author Biography

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Disclaimer

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any portrayal of customs and spirituality in the text does not necessarily reflect the belief system of any particular race.

Acknowledgements

A huge debt of gratitude is owed to those who fought the World Wars, but special thanks are due to the Resistance. We must not forget those who perished in combat, and never overlook the millions murdered for their race. While this book only mentions the stain of the holocaust the story tries to convey grief and reverence for all victims, whether alive or now deceased.

Sadly, appalling acts of suffering and inhumanity continue in the world today. I hope this story can serve to remind us that cruelty toward others should not be tolerated.

This novel is dedicated to all those who have in the past or are presently experiencing the devastation of war.

Thanks

With grateful thanks to all who have supported me through the journey of creating this book. Although at times the subject matter was harrowing, I have greatly enjoyed writing this story.

Heartfelt appreciation goes to my husband; his loving encouragement and technical help have been unlimited throughout the entire project. John, I could not have accomplished it without you.

Dedication

I also dedicate this novel to my brother Martin, who has lived most of his life in psychiatric institutions.

Come fairies, take me out of this dull world.  
For I would ride with you upon the wind,  
And dance upon the mountains like a flame.

W.B. Yeats

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**Chapter 1**

London: Summer 1948.

Doctor Silver finished his rounds and prepared to leave the asylum. The good weather had lightened his mood and with rolled shirtsleeves he took off his tie and unbuttoned his collar. It was Friday and Alec had the whole weekend ahead. It was his turn for a bath, just as well in this week's heat, he thought. Briefcase in hand he signalled goodbye to Charge Nurse Stanley and left by a rear door. It was not his usual exit, but he needed a break in routine. In the grounds he welcomed the fresh air and savoured the sweet flowering shrubs. He passed alongside the laundry and on through the courtyard where nothing ever grew. Here the ground was hard and dull between scattered paving and not even a weed ventured up through the sparse soil.

Alec crossed this sterile patch and felt strangely relieved when his feet found grass. But as he exited the east wall door a laugh turned his head. It seemed to travel from the courtyard, but was more likely coming from the wash house. Only a few patients ventured the grounds even in good weather, and Alec didn't encourage it in case of possible escapes. He closed the east door and made for the station. Tonight, Mrs Gee would be up to collect the rent and it was bound to be fish and chips for supper. With this in mind he developed a positive spring in his gait.

He strode past the tall gates of Moorvale Asylum and along the adjoining road. Ahead, the windows of The Mermaid winked in the sun. It was unlike him to frequent such a place but his mouth was so dry there seemed little choice in the matter. Behind the pub he saw smog forming, shape-shifting masses that floated and wound down the road. He caught his breath and spluttered. Alec picked up his step towards the pub. The smog gained momentum and swirled across his path like some abhorrent manifestation.

All at once he was surrounded by the sticky fug. He started to cough. Then up into his mind came his wife, how her lungs had become diseased, crippled. As if her arms were binding him he felt his chest contract. Anxiety and panic reared into his throat. Instinctively he felt for the pipe in his trouser pocket. He let his slim fingers slide over the polished wood.

Involuntarily his thoughts switched to a crazed patient. Her hair was the same as his wife's but she needed fierce treatment. On the few occasions she'd looked at him he was certain he saw Ivy. In the smog Alec thought he detected both faces, rising and falling to eventually form as one. The heat pressed down relentlessly, pushing him towards The Mermaid.

He stumbled into the pub holding his throat. He managed to order a pint of bitter and sat at a corner table before imbibing. The portly landlord was clearing glasses from a nearby table. He looked up and said, 'Evening Governor, nothing like a beer to quench a thirst.'

'Good evening,' Alec said in a weak voice. 'The smog's coming down out there.' He took another gulp of the precious liquid.

'In that case you're best off in here.' the landlord said. He set down the glasses. 'Not seen you before,' he said, and Alec pretended he had stumbled across the place by accident.

'We are a bit out of the way,' the landlord continued, 'I wonder sometimes if folks are nervous of the asylum.'

'Oh yes, perhaps,' Alec glanced down at his briefcase, almost ashamed he worked there.

'Some terrible things happened in that place,' piped the landlady's voice from behind the bar. She didn't look up from wiping the beer pumps. The landlord flicked a bar towel over his shoulder and turned to Alec.

'Missus is right about that Gov, and as it happens I'm a bit of an expert on the subject.'

'Oh?' Slightly intrigued, Alec moved towards the edge of his seat.

'I'll give you an example. Let me see, I'll bet you didn't know it was a workhouse before it became an asylum.'

'Well -,' Alec began.

'Maurice, don't forget the mild has blown.' the landlady interrupted.

'Oh bother, I'll just have to change the barrel.'

The landlord disappeared behind the bar for a while. Alec knew little about Moorvale's history. He stood up to take a look at some pictures on the walls. They showed the asylum's same stately entrance but years past, with several grubby looking children looking sadly into the camera. The beer was taking effect and Alec's knees began to feel light and spongy. The landlord returned and spent some time boring him with figures and dates but Alec was unable to digest the specifics. He had no interest in how many orphans and poor had lived there. But he agreed to join the landlord in a whisky, hoping it might obliterate the face of the female patient still visible in his mind.

'Do drop in any time you're passing,' the landlord said as Alec left, 'I've got plenty more information where that came from.' He gathered up his towel and began to hum cheerfully as he cleared the empty glasses.

Alec turned into the street but felt groggy before the foul air hit his lungs. Clouds had blotted out the sun and suddenly he felt chilled. He was angry with himself for staying so long at The Mermaid, annoyed at having drunk so much on an empty stomach. His legs were like jelly and it was difficult to walk sensibly. Now bizarre thoughts stabbed his mind. He remembered the war and how he had tried to believe in it. But he'd lost everything because of it, his house and his wife, as well as his private practice. When he eventually finished active duty there was no home fire waiting for him. Now all he could do was hope for promotion at the asylum, but with only a few months under his belt he realised it was imperative to first prove his worth.

It was all her fault he reasoned, Ivy's own fragility that had caused her disease and downfall. If only she'd been born of more robust stock. If she were here now he wouldn't be reduced to this lowered and confused state. Damn the woman, he said under his breath, and damn the patient at the asylum with Ivy's hair.

The mist thinned and darkened before him, a thick grey mantle that clung to drab factories and broken ruins. Then from the well of his mind bobbed Ivy's dress, one she wore when they'd first met, and which still hung in his wardrobe. It had matched her ruby lipstick and looked sensational with her thick hair and dark eyes. It clung to her contours and flared as she walked, revealing her wonderful legs. Now more than anything he wished the smog would lift and allow some colour into his life.

He'd missed the next bus so walked with numbed feet to Barnet station. On the train to Burnt Oak he dozed off into a stupor. When he awoke all he could see from the window was the grime brown of London, above which hung the damp bleak sky.

Juliette had woken, and now waited patiently in the hospital bed. She had no idea when she'd been admitted to the ward, but did remember pleading to be released. It was only in the past few weeks they had restrained her. Staff told her it was because she had become far too disruptive, that this would make her better. Her body was cold and wet from the frozen sheets they wrapped her in; pulled so tight it was impossible even to wriggle her toes. It was their way of torturing her, she felt. These indefinite sessions would surely freeze her to death, but on no account could she leave this world before she found her baby.

More than life itself, she needed to find her child. Her only child had been taken straight out of her arms. It happened long ago and all that remained was an outline. She struggled to recall more but got only a hazed uniform. Juliette feared her child must be dead. Only one other thought was as distressing. That if her baby were somehow alive, surely it was now impossible they would recognise each other. Tears fell from her eyes and ran down her temples as she blinked. _Please let her be alive_ , she whispered.

Weeks had passed and all this time she remained dulled with drugs. Now lashed to the bed with heavy leather straps, Juliette was tired. She tried to turn her body but the restraints cut into wrists and ankles, making even the smallest movement painful. Like a mad woman she began to laugh in small hiccups. It was ridiculous to be held like this, as if she had the strength to flee. She strained to see the neighbouring bed but only made out a lump moving to a rhythmic snore. Slowly her head lifted as a grey-haired woman approached her bed. The woman was holding a doll in her arms; she rocked it gently like a real child. She was singing very softly to it and Juliette craned to see more. The woman saw Juliette staring and scurried to the other side of the ward.

She wanted to scream but all attempts dried in her throat. Juliette slumped once more against the sodden pillow. She should have regretted hitting out at the staff, the turning point being when she bit one. But she no longer cared, only believing that escape though improbable, had to be her main objective. She struggled to move as if forgetting the straps prevented it. She was utterly and completely trapped. Her limbs ached and her skin stung where the straps rubbed. She lay still for a while and her eyes glazed over once again.

She could see her own little Anna, how beautiful she had been. Somewhere in her past she knew there had been a war. That was surely when her child had perished, so why did her heart insist otherwise? Juliette shivered as a sickly fit entered her body. The shivers were replaced by gentle shaking and soon these became violent contortions. A nurse walked slowly to the foot of the bed. He strolled up to her and waved a pot before her misted eyes.

'Down the hatch.' He pressed the pills into her cracked mouth and forced water on top of them. Her eyelids fluttered and her throat gagged on the medication. Juliette spluttered and retched but eventually swallowed the tablets. She fell into a sporadic half sleep, only surfacing into consciousness when the convulsions threw her against the restraints.

At the table in his room Alec Silver wrote to Ivy. The effects of the booze had mostly worn off, but since leaving the pub he'd been plagued by his wife. He could see her face and almost hear the way she used to call him _Allie_ , raising her voice as she did so. When their house was bombed in the blitz Ivy had miraculously escaped death. Out with her sister, she spent the rest of the night in an air-raid shelter. Alec filled his pipe with tobacco and carefully lit it up. There seemed little point in being sentimental about her now she was really dying, even as good as dead. Her doctors had told him just that, in a letter sent days ago. During the war she'd contracted tuberculosis and later had most of a lung removed. The surgeons said they operated because she was still young enough to bear children, but Alec hadn't been consulted. Afterwards her condition deteriorated. She was left to end her life in a Kent sanatorium while he waited patiently for the news of her passing.

Bittersweet tears gathered as he thought about the little time they'd shared, but more so because he no longer cared about her. It was intolerable to hope she might rally, find the strength from somewhere to recover. What he needed was to close the door on her life so he could begin a new one for himself. He had a man's needs, after all. Following his demob fortune delivered him to Gentleman's Row, to this house of meagre comfort. From here he could and would build a new future.

He rose and strode over to the bed, opened his bedside drawer and took out a freshly laundered handkerchief. Then, for reassurance he supposed, he opened the wardrobe and gazed at her red dress. He'd promised after her recovery she could wear it home. Hidden behind it hung the shirt from his old rally days. He reached out and found the cloth, feeling it black as coal between his slim fingers. Dark as midnight, he believed it to symbolise a clean beginning for all of society. For years he'd imagined a nation free of disease, from weakness and especially free of _bad blood_. He closed the wardrobe door, and a small piece of the dress got caught up in the draught. Also like blood, he thought. Or like Ivy's flesh, now tainted and ruined with illness.

Alec washed at the small basin in the corner of his room, pulled his braces onto his shoulders and stretched a cricket sweater over his head. Soon Mrs Gee would be up for the rent, and it wouldn't do to let standards slip. Six months ago when he'd moved in he had thought what a come down it was to live here. He and Ivy had enjoyed the luxury of a detached house in Edgware before the Luftwaffe flattened it to the ground. At the time he was on active duty and only learned about it weeks later in a letter. A rap at the door startled him and Mrs Gee entered with her cash box.

'It's only me, doctor,' she said, rattling the box slightly, 'I'll bet you're glad it's the weekend. You came in a little later tonight. Supper's in five minutes time.'

'Thank you Mrs Gee,' Alec replied, 'I always look forward to Fridays' meal.'

Mrs Gee's lips produced a crimson rim around even teeth. 'I'm very pleased to hear you say so, I'm sure.'

Her words were slightly simpered, and Alec watched as she patted a curl of russet hair into place. She opened the cash box and wordlessly he passed over the weeks' rent, as if the process of her taking money from a doctor was slightly beneath him. Mrs Gee checked her wristwatch.

'If only everyone was as organised as you are, I can't tell you how much it would help. Well, I must get on, see you at supper.'

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**Chapter 2**

The rain kept Lena inside but she had her favourite toys, a scraggy rag-doll and a battered teddy bear. Rag-doll Tess had just performed a triple back-somersault and landed on Teddy's shoulders, but Lena made his legs collapse and they fell in a heap on her bedspread. She took her glasses off and tried them on Teddy, then replaced them on herself. Lena was bored and wanted to go out to play, even though the children in her road didn't like her much. Usually she could coax their friendship with sweets, having a fair supply from her parent's shop. She had no siblings but felt less special because of it, as if it were somehow her fault.

Lena started downstairs, not for the shop, but the parlour and kitchen. Before she reached the bottom stair she heard her mother's voice.

'I don't know what's wrong with her,' Lena heard from the parlour, 'she spends so much time mooning about in the back yard.'

'She'll snap out of it when school starts back,' the other voice said, 'My Alfie is just the same. These school holidays are far too long, and they're at that awkward age, that's what I think.'

'Lena's nearly ten and she's always been difficult.' her mother replied.

'Take my advice and give her something to do. I send Alfie on errands all the time. It keeps him out of mischief.' Lena recognised the lilting Irish accent of Mrs Scattergood. A scraped chair leg sent Lena darting back upstairs.

Next day Lena joined her father behind the shop counter. Usually in bad humour, he cheered up when certain customers came in. On these occasions Lena was sent away so he could talk business. Now she helped him by putting quarter-pound weights of sweets into paper bags, twisting the tops over so none could escape.

'You can help me sort out the stockroom this morning, Mother says you need something to do.' he said, looking at Lena through glasses similar to hers.

'Can I go out to play afterwards?'

'I don't see why not,' he said, and Lena smiled before she realised he hadn't answered her question. But that afternoon, for the second time that week Lena was allowed to go and play. The sun shone as housewives stood around smoking and chatting in doorways. Children sat on kerbs, playing marbles or just poking about in the gutter. Her pockets full with candy twists and sweet cigarettes, Lena skipped along the road to meet her playmates.

'Look, its Lena,' Horace shouted, 'hey come with us!' He ran off calling back, 'There's something we want to show you!' Nancy and June caught her arms in a tight grip.

'You're going to like this,' Nancy said, her eyes dropping to Lena's candy-filled pockets.

'What is it?' she said, trying to wriggle free.

'It's a secret, and you've got to be blindfolded.' June said, crushing Lena's plaits with a headscarf.

'Do I have to?'

'Of course you have to and stop squirming,' Nancy said, ' _we_ had to go blindfold on _our_ first visit.'

Dragged along, Lena felt her shoes scuffing on the asphalt road and knew she would be in trouble over it. 'Don't go so fast,' she pleaded. It felt like an age before they stopped, when Lena was pushed against what felt like a low bar.

'Where are we?' she said in a small voice.

'You'll soon see. Are you ready?'

'Yes.'

The blindfold was whipped off, and Lena screamed. She was perched at the edge of a huge crater, and all that prevented her falling was a flimsy fence. She could see right to the bottom of the pit. Here the tip of a metal casing was sticking up and out of some water.

'Blimey it's a bomb!' She gasped, pushing her glasses back into place. She had seen bomb sites before but none had been this enormous.

'Oh well done, brain-box,' Horace said. Nancy and June giggled, while Lena moved nervously away from the edge.

'Well, what do you think of it?' June said.

'It's really scary.' Lena regarded her friends with a mixture of anxiety and fresh admiration.

'Now you've got to take us somewhere even more exciting than this.' June eyed Lena with superior contempt. 'Do you think you can do it?'

'I'll try,' Lena said, 'I mean I'm sure I can.'

'You'd better,' Horace said, 'don't forget we're your only friends. If you don't do it we'll never play with you again.'

'So there,' Nancy added, 'no matter how many sweets you bring.'

Lena nodded, and her eyes began to sting but she fought back the tears. Lamely she followed them through the streets, all the way home.

It was nearly time for Ellen's return from the asylum, where she scrubbed all day at Moorvale's laundry house. Gloria had been shopping in Cockfosters and also visited the local library. She'd bought the usual basket of bread, rice and vegetables and saved enough coupons to buy some end scraps of ham. The day was fine and perhaps because of recent rain the trees were showing a plump canopy of green. The market had been busy and the costermongers more jovial than usual. Gloria arrived home to the room she shared with her sister and made some soup with the vegetables and ham. She added more rice to the meal to help bulk it out.

Life was meagre now their mother had died. Meals worlds away from the rich, varied fare they'd enjoyed in Jamaica. After the war nobody cared how their father had fought for Britain, or that he died while on active duty. Perhaps the colour of their skin made it not matter, as if somehow the pain of his loss could be less because of it. Now just her and Ellen, they must do the best they could. Her sister was employed but it was proving impossible for Gloria to find a job. She took in a bit of mending and was quite skilled at clothing alterations, but this work paid little, forcing them to live hand-to-mouth.

Every week Gloria visited the Labour Exchange and scoured the library papers for jobs, but when people met her they showed no further interest. It was evident work was scarce because of the amount of people who lined up with her. Most of them were men. Some of them called her names and others made her join the back of the line. She would pray quietly that she might be given a chance. The papers occasionally advertised for private work, so Gloria looked every day except Sundays. On that day the sisters attended the Pentecostal Church for the morning and evening service. Here they worshipped happily and were able to sing with all the might of their faith. Although this was inspiring, sometimes Gloria's lungs were fit to burst.

She glanced over the shabby room before she gave the pot a stir. The sisters had managed to get digs even though most properties displayed notices that said: ' _No Irish, No Blacks, No dogs._ ' When their mother was alive they had better accommodation but when she went into hospital the girls were told to find other lodgings. They shared the bed, which stood against one wall, while any cooking had to be done over a small electric ring. An open fire provided the only heat and Gloria spent many hours collecting twigs and scraps of wood for it from the cemetery where her mother was buried.

A chest of drawers served as a table and a store for the few clothes they had, while extra linen was stowed in the trunk they had carried all their possessions in from Jamaica. A large bowl, jug and block of soap on the chest were used for washing themselves, and any cooking utensils. The privy and tin bath outside were shared between the twenty tenants of the block, named Plantation House. Gloria laughed to herself whenever she said it aloud. It was as if she and Ellen were still bound in servitude to the colonies.

A picture of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane hung on the wall above the bed. It had belonged to their mother, and was the most prized of the few possessions they had. Gloria looked at the picture, hardy visible now in the dimming light, and gave thanks to God for the roof over her head.

'Where are we going today?' As usual Lena was eager to prove her worth and arrived with a supply of candies.

'It's your turn to take _us_ somewhere.' June said, folding her arms and sighing the way her elder sister probably did. 'Don't you remember?'

Horace jumped up as some older, larger boys appeared at the end of the street. Nancy ran past Lena and shouted, 'Quick, run! It's Nobby Clarke's gang!' They disappeared in a cloud of dust but as she turned to bolt Lena's escape was cut off by the coalman's horse. Trotting across her path, she was delayed further by a mother pushing a pram along the narrow pavement. Suddenly the gang surrounded her.

'Oi, you're the kid from the sweetshop aren't you? Lena Crumbe!' One of them shouted.

'What a stupid name.' the largest boy said slowly, 'you should be as tiny as a breadcrumb but you're as fat as a house!'

'Ha! Ha! Ha!' they roared. 'Lena Crumbe, with a big fat bum!'

'I'm a sugar crumb, so there.' Lena piped up, not knowing where this foolish reply might land her. She squinted at them through her glasses.

'Is that what your precious mummy told you?' A different boy sneered, poking her in the shoulder. She looked down momentarily before summoning up a streak of courage.

'I'd rather be a sugar crumb than a maggot crumb,' and taking her chance to break free, started to run, adding 'like you!' She watched in terror as the biggest boy's face exploded in anger.

'Get her!' Nobby bellowed, and immediately all four of them gave chase. Although tubby, Lena was a good runner, and knew all the side streets and alleyways. She soon outpaced them and gave them the slip past bombed out buildings and newer footings of tenement blocks. She stopped briefly to rest in a doorway and heard the boys' metal heel caps in the distance. They were probably only one street away. She lunged into the road and ran as fast as her legs would take her. This was faster than she had ever run before, even on sports day. The wind made her plaits fly out while her arms pumped by her sides like pistons. She had never been so frightened, or so exhilarated.

But soon she was running into unknown territory, into places she knew nothing about. Eventually she reached a long flinted wall. Barbed wire ran along the top of it as far as she could see. Then she noticed a wooden door set into the wall. An old man was approaching from the opposite direction. Lena hesitated and pulled up her socks. She needed to hide or the gang would find her. Crossing the road, the man ignored Lena and entered by the wall door. Seconds later Lena tried the handle. It swung open and she darted inside, slamming the door shut. She hid by the wall among shrubs and tall grass. Soon she heard the familiar clack of heels. They seemed to stop alarmingly close to her hiding place, on the other side of the wall.

'We've lost her!' a voice exclaimed, puffing between words.

'Little brat!' said another, 'I'd like to box her ears.'

'You can't do that to a girl, stupid.' said a higher, squeaky voice.

'Why not?'

'Hey, you know where we are don't you?' the squeaky voice said.

'Looks like a prison to me,' the first voice suggested.

'It's the nut-house dumb boy; the loony bin,' squeaky voice corrected, 'hey, maybe she lives here.' Laughter exploded on the other side of the wall and unseen, Lena poked her tongue out.

She crouched in the bushes a long time before moving. Having eaten all the sweets she was sleepy in the afternoon sun. Suddenly she was yawning and realised she was waking up from a nap. Her legs ached and her feet burned from the long run and she wanted her bedroom. Dusk was replacing the daylight when Lena hurried to the door. There was no doubt she would be in big trouble if she was late for tea. The thought of tea-time, even with plain sandwiches and dry cake, made her mouth water.

But as she twisted the handle a terrible realisation hit home. The door was locked. She turned away and tried not to cry. The wall might have other doors, she reasoned, and began to walk along it in search of an exit. She passed under tall trees and through lower, unkempt shrubs. Her legs were stung by nettles and her socks caught on brambles. No nearer to finding a way out, she sank to her knees and wept.

Through her sobs she detected a whisper, like the soft caress of a breeze. Lena wiped her eyes and looked up. Before her was a leafy glade. A mist swirled around it, while sparkled figures darted to and fro. Slowly she approached. Immediately Lena felt aglow as the lighted bodies danced towards her. Lena knew beyond doubt what she saw, and her heart leapt in wonder as her tears were gently wiped away.

****~~~****

**Chapter 3**

Ellen had hardly spoken since her arrival home. After supper she brought out a fur foot and held it up before the fire. Gloria gasped when she realised what it was.

'What are you doing with Mama's lucky paw?' she said.

'I've seen ghosts, sister. I got to have protection.'

Gloria had listened to similar accounts but days later Ellen always said she'd imagined it. Tonight she seemed different, truly frightened. Gloria could see that much in her eyes.

'Tell me what happened.' she said. Ellen put down the stuffed paw and took Gloria's hands.

'Something odd is going on,' she paused as she looked nervously about the room, 'strange things, not of this world.' Gloria rolled her eyes, and gazed at the paw before replying. She knew Ellen liked to exaggerate.

'At the asylum?'

Ellen looked straight past her sister. 'I've seen it. I seen these little people - one of them bit me.'

Gloria got up from her stool and started to clear away the supper things. There was enough soup left for one more meal.

'You know what I think?' she said, 'I think you been in that place too long.' She bit into her lips as she washed the dishes.

'But I saw them, just like I see you, right beside a gravestone.' She whistled slowly through her teeth. 'Silas Tench.' she said, her eyes glistening, 'That was the name on the tomb.'

Gloria nodded. 'Alright then, suppose you did see them, what can we do about it? We're not meant to meddle with ghosts.'

Ellen's eyes dropped. 'I want you to help send them away with Mama's paw.' She held the charm between trembling fingers.

Gloria crossed herself. 'But it's a sin to do such things!'

'We've got to do it.' Ellen said bluntly, 'Or I can't go back there. Then we'll have no money and we will starve.'

Gloria thought about this and felt guilty for her small contribution. She realised Ellen worked her fingers to the bone washing five days a week, with minimal help to heave the linen and clothes in and out of huge vats. Full of boiling water, they stood as tall as Ellen herself.

'Alright, I'll do it,' Gloria said eventually, 'but you promise me to stay away from them graves. It ain't natural.'

'I promise,' Ellen agreed. They held hands and dropped the rabbit's paw onto the grate. The flames licked over the dismembered foot, and the smell of burned fur muddied the room.

'In the name of all that is Holy,' Gloria said, 'let the little ghost people be gone.'

'Amen.' Ellen added.

Together they watched the small fire crackle and spit, growing brighter and stronger until they could see the rabbit's paw no more.

Alec finished his morning rounds just in time for the appointment with his superior. In the administration block he paused outside a door marked _Superintendent, Mr J. Marsh_. Alec gave three precise taps on the door.

'Come in,' called a voice from within. Alec entered and sat opposite the heavy desk.

'You wanted to see me Jeremy?'

Marsh leant back with a sigh. 'Yes, thank you Alec. I've had a letter from a Dr Warren; I believe you might know of him?'

'Oh yes, Bunny was a year above me at Medical School.' Alec rummaged in his jacket pocket and fished out his pipe. 'He practices psychiatry for the War Office, I believe.' Marsh nodded affirmation and took the opportunity to ignite a cigarette. The two men puffed on the tobacco for a while.

'We'd all like to think the war was over and done with,' Marsh began, unaware of Alec's inattention. 'But Dr Warren wants me to admit three servicemen. He describes them as severely disturbed.' Here, Alec's eyebrows lifted. 'They've been working out their time in Egypt with an engineering detail but while out there all three became erratic in behaviour. When they finally got back to England, things really went downhill.'

'Some men can't take the heat,' Alec said, 'and its nothing but sand and scorpions out there.'

'Enough to drive anyone mad, I should think.' Marsh agreed. 'However, Doctor Warren thinks it's some sort of delayed shock.'

'Shell shock? What, all of them?' Alec shot Marsh a look of exasperation.

'Well, all three were part of a crack squad, but they got captured and put into one of those hideous concentration camps.'

'Oh.' Alec sat back in his chair. 'Do we know anything else?'

'Well, it's all a bit hush-hush. What they were involved in was and remains, Top Secret.'

Alec rested his pipe lightly on his knee, recalled briefly his submarine days, of being torpedoed and trapped inside the metal lozenge. Now he smelled the raw fear of his men. He lowered his eyes and puffed guiltily on the pipe.

'You see,' Marsh continued, 'these chaps aren't like the usual cases we get. Their symptoms are subtle but nonetheless corrosive. They're in military hospital at the moment, been there for a week or so. Doctor Warren was called in to do the psychiatric assessment.'

'Such cases can respond with shock treatment.' Alec stated brightly, 'I should like to try them on a course of insulin shock therapy.' Marsh frowned and blew out a long line of smoke.

'I'm afraid I don't share your enthusiasm for shock treatment,' he said, 'take that León girl for instance, I'm sure her memory is becoming worse. No, I feel they will need different, more active treatment.'

'Such as P.T.?' Alec offered, with a slight hint of sarcasm.

'Well, that sort of thing, yes.' Marsh stubbed out his cigarette in the marble ashtray on his blotter. 'But I'm sure, and Doctor Warren has also indicated this, that they will need some sort of project to do. Something positive but also physically demanding they can work on together.'

It was morning when the door was finally opened. Lena had been awake most of the night, and now she flew into the street and started to run. The grounds-man on his way out did not see her leave. By the time she arrived home her clothes were drenched with sweat and she was beyond exhaustion. The local bobby greeted her as she barged through the sweetshop door.

'Well, well,' the officer said, the shop bell still tinkling, 'we were all very worried about you, young lady. Where have you been?'

'Is that her?' Lena heard her mother's voice from the parlour. She came into the shop and slapped Lena round the back of her thighs. Her daughter winced.

'Whatever were you playing at?' Mrs Crumbe bellowed. 'I suppose you think it's funny, staying out all night while we were worried sick.'

'I was locked in,' Lena began, flinching as her mother again raised her hand.

'That'll do Marcia.' Lena saw her father enter the room.

'I'll be on my way then,' the policeman said, 'I can see she's back and not too much the worst for wear.' The little bell on the shop door tinkled again as he left. Lena wished he would stay and prevent whatever harm her mother might be planning to inflict on her.

'You,' her mother pointed a crooked finger, 'come with me.' Lena shot an anguished look towards her father but he turned away to refill a sweet container.

At four o'clock Lena was put to bed. She was allowed no food and given just a small beaker of water. She waited for her mother to tuck her in, but she never came. Her scalp hurt where the scissors had hacked at her hair, and she covered her face with dimpled hands when she remembered cruel words. Perhaps she was an evil child, she wasn't really sure. Her mother had pulled at her hair before cutting it off. Her thick plaits landed on the floor and her mother had kicked them away. Tears streamed from Lena's eyes because no one would ever play with her now she was truly hideous.

A thunderstorm had been gathering all day. Keeping her toys close Lena heard the rain lash against the window. It was all Nobby Clarke's fault, she tried to explain. If she had any victory to celebrate at all it was that she had amazingly outwitted him and his gang. But she was more scared of him than before. Now he would really be out to get her. Lena was also unsure about returning to the asylum. Not because of what she had seen, but because of getting trapped there.

They had been so beautiful, fine beings with gossamer wings and delicate features. They had spoken to her but she wasn't about to tell. She buried her face in the pillow and whispered, 'Mother cut my hair off, but I never told on you.' And then she fell into a fitful sleep, full of rain and wind and the soft, kind voices of the beautiful visions at Moorvale.

Juliette was heavily sedated. She struggled to find consciousness but was forced into sleep. The sheets were dry but she'd endured hours immersed in freezing water. Now she was so cold her mind had frozen in time, a time when she was running for her life. She was moving fast, sliding downhill through fir trees and over huge mounds of white, pristine snow. Through and past deep ravines and mountain ranges, trying to keep out of sight and ever moving. And all the while in the near silence they remained on her tail.

Gunmen - getting closer now.

Through marshmallow valleys her skis sped faster, shivered across the vast white ocean. Like a bird she took to the air and flew over passes, down alpine slopes. She was sure she knew this route, she remembered it, but how had it happened, who was she running from?

'Juliette, wake up!' A voice demanded. She prised her eyes open and saw Alec Silver's face. She was in a familiar room, one that held pain and suffocation. 'The doctor's here to see you.' The same voice snapped beside her.

'Hello Juliette,' Alec's words seethed. He leaned over the trolley and looked into her bleary eyes. Unable to focus, she slurred a response. Alec addressed the nurse. 'Let me see her medicine chart.' Nurse Stanley duly passed it over. 'I'm going to reduce some drugs,' he said, 'I need her more alert to assess any improvement. Is this her last lot?'

'Two more to go,' Stanley stated, 'this is her third.'

'We will go ahead.' Alec said firmly. 'I want to finish the whole course. She's still having the baths and wet sheets daily?'

'Yes doctor.'

'Good. Gag her please, while I apply the electrodes.'

Juliette struggled as Nurse Stanley forced a rubber bar between her teeth. She felt white-hot pokers on her temples and unbearable pain as the electric current tore through her skull. Her body convulsed, thrashing and whipping against the straps. Stanley shot a look at Alec as he removed the electrodes.

'That was longer than usual, doctor.' he said.

'I'm quite aware of that nurse.' Alec snapped. Juliette's head had fallen to one side. Her temples were scorched and raw from the force of the current. Saliva dribbled from the side of her mouth.

'I'll get her straight back to the ward.' Stanley said.

'And keep the restraints loose,' Alec ordered. Stanley nodded comprehension.

That evening Alec dropped into The Mermaid. He thought how Stanley had been almost insubordinate in his outburst and wondered if he should report him. He was tired of this arrogance in people who thought they knew better than him, first Marsh had criticised his judgement and now Stanley. He ordered a pint of bitter from the landlady and asked after her husband.

'He's having a bit of a lie down,' she said, 'before the darts match tonight, ere, you ought to come along.' He offered his excuses, but half decided to go.

Maybe he could persuade Mrs Gee to join him; that would get the residents talking, not that they needed much encouragement. How he was changing his habits. In the past few weeks he had altered his routine several times, taking different routes on his way back to Gentleman's Row. Some nights he even omitted to pay homage to his secret black shirt. Now forgetting to light his pipe, he drained the glass and made for the station.

Alec heard himself grunt and woke up. He'd missed Burnt Oak. The train was now at Edgware, the end of the line and where he had lived with Ivy. He rubbed his eyes, ran long fingers through now lank hair. This meant getting the bus back down the Edgware Road to make it in time for supper. He blamed the female patient over the beer and unexpectedly, fury pumped into his chest. He sprang from the seat and ran full pelt to the bus stop.

Gloria passed the sweetshop on her way to meet Ellen. The shop had bright window displays and a shiny doorstep. Gloria had applied for a job. Her mood was buoyant now they'd sent the ghosts away and it seemed Ellen had calmed. She just prayed this employer would give her a position. Ellen's pay was meagre, but they had a bag of sweets now and then. With careful housekeeping Gloria afforded visits to the Turkish Baths. Important she insisted, to help Ellen's aching back.

In this place the girls leapt back to the heat of Kingston Town, how they had left it behind to come all the way to Great Britain. They remembered the long crossing and their mother's excitement, looking forward to a new world and all it promised to offer. They had said farewell to their family, not knowing if they would ever see them again. How they had all wept. Knowing that without a man it would be hard in all respects. When these thoughts assaulted Gloria she prayed again for help from her God.

Ellen told Gloria about a Russian masseuse who had sparse conversation but did a good job. The steam-room reminded her of the laundry and how much she hated the work. It would kill her in the end, Gloria feared. In the heated rooms both sisters relaxed while knotted muscles released. Then for a time Gloria's anxiety dispersed. Like the steam that pumped into the baths, and through escape vents onto the street, seeping and mingling with the cold London smog.

Gloria picked up her step. Ellen would be waiting, and she didn't like to be late. The usual supper of soup and toast would have to satisfy tonight. On pay day she planned to buy more meat. But as she passed by it, the sweetshop window beckoned. She took a closer look. One window displayed pipes, cigars and cigarettes. But behind another glass, jars of candies shone out all colours of the rainbow. Gloria suddenly entered the shop. Behind the counter a rounded man wore spectacles, a white apron and a little white hat. As the bell rang he looked up. Suspiciously, he eyed her as one might observe a dangerous animal.

'Now then,' he said, 'I hope you know what you want because I'm just about to close up.'

Gloria pointed to a jar of liquorice comforts and said, 'A small bag of those please.'

The proprietor weighed out the sweets and poured them into a paper bag. 'That's a penny halfpenny. And I need your coupon book.'

She took the bag, thanked him and left the shop. The door was quickly locked behind her. She glanced back and noticed his grim expression. At least he hadn't shouted at her as others sometimes did. She tried a liquorice comfort. The flavour was warm, dark and exotic. At once it reminded her of home, but she needed to save the rest as a special surprise for Ellen.

On the outskirts of Barnet she passed by the bomb site. This was only curious as it was the deepest crater in London. There were plenty of smaller sites dotted throughout the locality. She'd heard two men talking at the edge of it when she first arrived in the area. The hole was fenced off roughly to prevent kids from climbing in, the men said. They also discussed the possibility of the bomb half buried at the bottom one day exploding.

The hole frightened her. It spoke of hatred, of destruction and death. It came from the very war that had killed her dear Papa. It was the gateway to the underworld and to the devil. She would never willingly look into it and risk her own soul's ruin. She crossed herself and hurried away from it. Ellen was waiting.

Lena slipped past the parlour door and dodged upstairs to the bathroom. She didn't want to be caught by her mother who remained angry and volatile. Lena didn't care it was something of a privilege to have a bathroom. Her father said it was because they lived behind and above the shop so there was not enough room for it outside. In any case that space was commandeered for his stock room. Lena could only remember this home although with her mother she'd been evacuated as a baby. She had never been taken into the city. Lena decided against asking to see the Tower of London for her next birthday.

The shop-front spanned the corner plot of Mill Road and South Street. Also on the ground floor were the kitchen and the parlour where visitors were entertained. Upstairs the bathroom divided Lena's bedroom and her parents' room, where her father sat and added-up the day's takings and ration coupons. Outside as well as the stockroom was a small backyard. Here washing was hung out to dry and an Anderson shelter was used as a tool shed.

Sometimes Lena hid there from both parents. She rubbed her head and glanced in the bathroom mirror. Her hair had grown a little. Even so she dreaded going back to school in such a condition. Carefully she opened the wall cabinet and took out the nail scissors. In her room she had collected some old wallpaper scraps and a small piece of pink sugar paper. She found some tissue paper and a length of string in her toy-box and placed them on the bed with the other things.

Gently humming to herself she began to create.

****~~~****

**Chapter 4**

The journey to Gentleman's Row took Gloria on the Piccadilly line to Kings Cross, then the Northern Line to Burnt Oak. She read the letter once more. It said to arrive for six thirty am and was signed by a Mrs Gee. Before the train pulled up Gloria got to her feet. Intent on her destination she hardly noticed the glances. As the train shuddered to a halt Gloria neared the door. She hoped the station clock was fast. It wouldn't do to be late on her first day.

Burnt Oak station was flanked by two small shops, one selling exclusively _Belgravia Chocolates_ , while the other was called _The Elven Bookshop_. Gloria asked the porter for directions before she sped up Edgware Road. She passed the field where the old oak had long since reduced to ash and noticed other crow laden trees. Her calves were stinging before sober houses loomed, some three stories with black railings and flagstone steps. Gloria stood aside as two nuns swept past. She saw crucifixes swinging from their habits and automatically she crossed herself.

The entrance to 8 Gentleman's Row was the end house of a terraced row and steep steps descended to the basement. As Gloria took these she glimpsed through a small window. Inside a clock read twenty-five minutes past six. She stood by the door a few seconds, took a deep breath, smoothed her hair and tidied herself. Then she gave two confident raps and waited. The door was opened by a slim woman with burnished hair. Gloria was taken aback momentarily before she introduced herself.

'Well you're on time, that's a promising start.' Mrs Gee said as she showed Gloria into the kitchen and quickly ran through her duties. 'The job involves cooking the breakfasts, but I take them upstairs. After this you'll wash up while I start the cleaning. I'll need help with any rooms and the laundry once a week. If there's any time left you can give me a hand to prepare the evening meal.'

'Yes, Mrs Gee.' Gloria said.

'Did you bring a reference?' Gloria handed over an envelope with a character reference from Jamaica. Mrs Gee read through it and put it to one side. 'Let's see how you get on today shall we?' she said.

'Watch what you're doing with her hands.' Nurse Rose Lowe shot a dangerous glare at Stanley.

'I'm in charge so don't tell me what to do,' he said, 'Doctor Silver asked me to see to it.' He managed to undo Juliette's wrist straps while Rose loosened the ankle bands.

'Look at her skin,' Rose continued, 'the buckles have dug right in.' Stanley smirked at her and shrugged his shoulders. Rose left him untying the body straps while she searched for skin cream. When she returned he was gathering up the restraints. Rose massaged the cream into Juliette's wrists and ankles, but said no more. Her patient had fallen asleep again, the same disturbed sleep Rose had witnessed for over a month.

'Seeing you're such an expert, you can write up the notes.' Stanley sneered as he walked away. 'Then you can check the controlled drugs with me.'

The night nurse arrived as dusk fell but Stanley never mentioned the restraints. He left the ward by the back door and soon crossed the courtyard. Halfway over it he fancied there was a whisper. It was very close, near to his ear. Imagining an insect he whacked at his head, but the thing bit his hand. He lurched sideways and unable to detect anything kicked out in annoyance. Where he had hit his head now caused more pain than the sting. Bemused, he hurried away.

Pan was lord of the Lower Dominions and king of all its creatures. Eons ago he'd been promoted to this task by Haides of the Underworld. Among the Gods it was hoped that one day his kingdom would peacefully unite with that of the fairie realms, in order to live as they did; by _Natural Law_. However, even the mighty Haides was doubtful of this.

Pan was able to see humans and decided their substance was even more selfish than the Giants of ancient times. However, the younger variety proved different. Special children could hear his pipes and were easily led, whereas adults were hopeless in this task. A child's soul was all Pan needed in order to grow in power and enslave the Elemental realms.

Pan leant back against a tangled root and sighed. Life had become truly dull even with the myriad of creatures under him. He'd lost hope of ensnaring a child and had hidden his pipes away. Things had become almost unbearable. Now he even missed the company of Trolls, something he'd thought impossible. He had to make do communing with insect armies and underwater worlds. It wasn't _that_ he minded so much, just that it wasn't ideal. Animals and insects survived even if humans forgot them, but it wasn't the same for Pan's realm. If particularly children lost their belief, his world risked decline and eventual extinction.

The root shuddered as something landed beside him. 'Oh it's you, Snitch,' he said, 'have you brought news?'

'A human child!' the grasshopper panted excitedly. Pan's eyes widened and he pivoted on his hooves.

'Favourable news at last.' he said as he bent forward, 'but where did this happen?'

'The Fairie Queen residence,' Snitch said, pausing to swallow, 'but she has no idea I saw it.'

'I see.' Pan's eyes narrowed. 'Good work Snitch, keep a close watch on their kingdom.'

The grasshopper nodded and sprang away. Pan had been wise to spy on the fairies but he'd waited years for such news. He could arrange an audience with Queen Mab, but knew to use discretion. He had certain enchantments in his armoury, but she was the mistress of many spells. Pan was certain he could find the same child and lure it with his pipes. Capturing its soul would provide all he needed to dominate the Queen. He had planned a long time for such an alliance. Pan scratched at the coarse hair on his chest, stretched his legs and hopped with glee.

His mind raced. But first he must find his pipes, only then could he relax and think clearly. If he rushed things and upset Mab he might lose all he hoped to achieve.

Lena's toys sat at the bedstead but her paper playmates were hidden. With them under her pillow was an exercise book she used as a journal. Her new friends she'd cut from the wallpaper scraps, fixing tissue paper wings to their backs. They were fragile, and to Lena quite like the fairies she had seen at the asylum. Since that day she thought about them constantly. Now back at school she'd been told off repeatedly for inattention during class. Caught daydreaming at home her ears had been rapped with a wooden spoon. But however hard she tried she couldn't control her continual desire to meet them again. They had whispered things to her, magical things that might change her life.

Lena ran a hand over her spiky hair. Her worst punishment yet, this latest episode confirmed her worst fears. She'd known even before the fairies confirmed it. How _they_ could give her the love she so needed. In the shaded glade they had spun a web of warm, soft moss over her. Lena rolled on to her back and appealed to the heavens. Surely it was real love they'd given that day, and not a spell to trick her? She laid the fairies on the blanket and adjusted her glasses. It was past her bedtime and the room was almost dark. She picked up two of the figures and flew them in silent circles until she became sleepy. Then she replaced them under her pillow. As she drifted off a dim memory assailed her mind.

It was near the end of the war when she and her mother returned from being evacuees. Lena was five and walked to school after air-raids. But she passed not only bombed out homes. One day a body was lying in the road. A ragged coat was thrown over it. She had to walk near to its dismembered arm and the flesh that dripped onto the ground. Strangely the hand laid palm uppermost, as if waiting to receive something. A child ran past and shouted 'Fatty!' at her. Shocked, Lena stared at the arm until a warden shouted at her to get off to school.

Lena woke with a jolt. She was certain the arm was right there in the bed. Hastily she pulled back the covers. With a groan she realised it was just her rag-doll. Lena turned onto her side and peeked under the pillow. She knew she hadn't imagined the fairies. With slow deliberation, Lena promised she would pluck up the courage to revisit them soon.

On Hummingbird Ward Juliette's sleep was agitated. She dreamed of the grimy hut, of her bunk and the fence surrounding the camp. Told to stay put while the guard took her child, three other prisoners held her down preventing her escape into the square. After lights out she would have been shot on sight. A fourth woman shoved a rag in her mouth to silence her cries. Juliette didn't care about the danger. With primeval brawn she struggled to break free. It took their combined fortitude to keep her subdued.

Since then she had suffered. Days became weeks, and months rolled into desperate years. All hope had disappeared with her child. She had been taken by a uniform; not a soldier or guard but a _she-devil_. For a long time Juliette wept the hopeless cry of a lost soul. Like a caged animal she paced the dormitory hut for a week. When the guards let her out she ran up and down the perimeter fence. As if her last shred of hope could materialise that which she needed to live: Her little girl Anna.

Juliette tried to climb the fence but as she grabbed it her hands were torn away. Grappling the guards her arms flailed out. A chance blow threw one of them off before another struck her down. She tried to get to her feet. But now she was falling downward into the cold air, down the mountain pass and over a ledge of snow. Her head made contact with solid ice, and she saw no more.

The night nurse saw her drop onto the polished floor. He hurried to her side. Hauling her back into bed he realised her arm had broken. The nurse tied a splint to her arm and gave her an analgesic injection. As Juliette gained consciousness she cried out repeatedly. Still in obvious pain, he tied her to the bed with a set of restraining straps.

'I knew she'd fall,' Stanley told him when he arrived for the morning report.

'I managed to catch her,' the night nurse lied, 'perhaps it happened during the shock treatment.'

Stanley ignored him and turned to Rose. 'This is a nuisance when we're so short staffed, but you'll have to go with her to Chase Farm Hospital. Make sure you stay with her at all times until the end of your shift.'

'I don't mind.' Rose replied.

'Please stress we need to have her back at Moorvale as soon as possible.' Stanley instructed. 'Doctor Silver is very keen she must complete her treatments.'

Gloria left Gentleman's Row for the station, tired but satisfied she'd done a good job. Anyway Mrs Gee wanted her the following day so she must have been happy. Gloria had cooked all the breakfasts and helped with the room cleaning. Mrs Gee had smiled when she saw how tidy the kitchen was, but seemed really pleased Gloria had enough common sense to check the menu sheet and prepare the vegetables for supper.

The smog was coming down. Gloria would be home before Ellen's return and tonight she had a special meal planned. She found a seat near the door and only relaxed when the train pulled away from Burnt Oak. It lurched and juddered as it thundered along. Houses and shops whizzed past forming a blur in the gathering murk. Gloria's eyes became heavy and despite the violent rocking motion she soon dozed off.

She nearly missed her stop at Finsbury Park and alighted from the train feeling muzzy and cold. By the time she arrived at Plantation House it was all she could do to flop on the bed. Gloria yawned and slipped between the blankets. It would have to be corned beef sandwiches for tea after all.

Alone in The Mermaid Alec reconsidered Mrs Gee. She wore garish lipstick and laughed too loud and her common accent let her down. But even so a part of him admired her. She ran Gentleman's Row alone and was always polite to the tenants. Above all she possessed good health along with stamina and drive. Alec took a mouthful of beer and wished not for the first time his own wife had possessed such qualities. The landlord came over and sat heavily beside him.

'Another?' he said, as Alec gave over his glass.

'Will you join me?' Alec hoped he was not about to repeat the same lecture of the asylum.

'I don't mind if I do, as it's quiet.' He fetched the drinks while Alec filled his pipe with tobacco.

'Here's a story for you.' The landlord said. 'It's about the workhouse gravedigger, but perhaps you know it?'

'No, I'm sure I don't.'

'He used to frequent this pub, when he was old and had lost all his marbles.'

'Did you know him?' Alec put his pipe down.

'Silas Tench was his name. Me old man told me all about him.'

'I see.' Alec nodded. 'Bit of a character was he?'

'More of a criminal really, you've heard of grave robbers? Who better to steal the dead than a gravedigger?' He let out a guffaw. Alec, now slightly uncomfortable, tried to join in the joke. The landlord took a gulp of beer, and gave Alec's shoulder a shove.

'I'm only telling you because I know you're interested in the asylum. As you know on that subject, I am a bit of an expert.'

Rose Lowe waited in casualty while Juliette's arm was x-rayed. Aware she might spend some time in hospital Rose told Juliette to think of it like a holiday. Rose nearly said to be brave, but she stopped herself. Although hardly mentioned on Hummingbird, Rose had often seen the numbers tattooed into Juliette's forearm. It was what happened to people in prison camps, she knew. She wanted to find out more, and if there was any truth to Juliette's assertions.

At least they were out of Moorvale for a while and away from Nurse Stanley. At a recent drug check she'd counted the morphine two ampoules short. Drawing Stanley's attention to it he fobbed her off saying another ward had borrowed them, that the book had inadvertently not been updated. The curtain was pulled open and Rose flinched. A tall physician entered accompanied by a nurse.

'X-ray!' the doctor barked, pushing past Rose and her patient. The nurse pulled it from an envelope before smoothing her apron. The film was clipped to a light cabinet while the physician studied it. He turned abruptly to Rose.

'You can see here where the fracture is. I'm afraid it will require surgery. Your patient will be admitted to the Orthopaedic Ward this morning. I expect you need to inform Moorvale?'

'Yes, I had better.' Rose said.

'Nurse will show you to the office where you can telephone. I'm sure your patient won't abscond in the meantime.' He lifted the corner of his lip in amusement.

'I'll be right back.' Rose said as she gave Juliette's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Shown into the sister's office she telephoned Hummingbird Ward. She asked if she might be allowed to take her patient some tea. The nurse informed her they could both have tea once on Hind ward. The operation would be fitted in the following day.

Rose returned to her patient. Soon after a porter arrived and wordlessly unclipped the brakes from the wheels. He placed the notes and x-rays at Juliette's feet and wheeled her to the ward. Rose followed behind like a faithful dog. While on the phone to Stanley she'd volunteered to stay with Juliette overnight.

****~~~****

**Chapter 5**

The Queen stretched her wings before flitting from a branch. Surrounded by fairies, sprites, water nymphs and nature spirits she was still tired of this place. If they hadn't seen the girl-child, by now she'd have moved elsewhere. Mab took flight again. Her royal chamber was further up the tree, nestled in a cleft. Here she rested on her throne of moss and silken feathers. To her knowledge the child had not yet returned.

Until now, Mab remained only to serve the children who had called her. This was a long time past in human years, when the workhouse took hoards of little ones. She and her entourage had ministered to the poor wretches as best they could and because the youngsters believed, there was the catch. Without this faith, like Pan her realm faced a slow but inevitable oblivion.

There had been children romping through the woods before the war. Mab had seen them beyond the boundary wall. They'd been aware of her sentinels collecting flower heads and luckily were careful of fairie kin. Like the workhouse slaves they were also poor and she supposed, had nowhere else to play. In the days of the workhouse she'd known of four little buds in particular, a boy and three girls. She thought it strange how these same special four kept her tied to the asylum.

Her thoughts were distracted as a water sprite approached. The sprite offered two glistening drops of nectar in a crisp blade of grass. Mab accepted it, swallowing the sweet liquid with a dainty gulp. The sprite gave a satisfied nod before darting off. It wasn't that Mab was ungrateful or unhappy; indeed it was difficult for anyone in her kingdom to be unsatisfied. But as time passed and less children made contact with her kind - she gave a little shiver and shook her pretty head.

If only the girl-child would visit again. Placing her wand by her side, she sat back in her throne and sighed.

Lena looked out at the rain. Supposed to be doing sums, she found it hard to work out the problems on the board. Instead she wrote in her exercise book, careful that nobody saw. Her mother had told the school she'd cropped her hair because of nits. Mrs Sullivan was busy marking the tests they'd done before lunch and didn't notice Lena.

Raindrops were stuck to the window glass; some flowed down while others met up becoming one fat dribble. Lena wrote: Like bumblebees were fairies able to fly in the rain? Or, were they forced to hide under leaves or inside seed heads? Sighing, she put her pencil away. Perhaps if she looked long enough at the raindrops fairie shapes might form.

Something hard hit her in the neck and she turned to see Horace pulling a face. She leant down to pick up the propelled object. It was a folded plane, the nose weighted with a metal clip.

'Lena Crumbe!' The teacher's voice rang out. Lena met Mrs Sullivan's glare.

'What, exactly are you doing child?' Panic entered Lena's eyes as the teacher reached her. 'You haven't done a scrap of work, and what's this?' Mrs Sullivan picked up the plane and unfolded it. It showed a picture of a very round woman with _Teacher_ written underneath. 'Did you do this?' Mrs Sullivan roared.

'No,' Lena said weakly.

'Come with me! The rest of you, get on with your work and I don't want to hear one peep out of you. Understood?'

'Yes Miss,' the class droned in unison. Mrs Sullivan marched Lena to the headmaster's office. The sheer terror on her face aroused more spite from the teacher.

'I pity you,' Mrs Sullivan sneered, 'because the headmaster will really make you pay.'

Juliette was floating after the injection. She heard whispers and footsteps that squeaked past her cubicle. From the corner of her eye she saw Nurse Lowe. Her head was bent over a book. Drifting on the drugs, Juliette recalled the anaesthetist. He mentioned her tattooed arm and become thoughtful when she told him of the camp. He asked where her home was and somehow she remembered being near the Swiss border, in France. He seemed kind. She wanted to tell him about her baby but was falling asleep. As if able to protect her the curtains had been closed around her bed.

Nurse Lowe had stayed the night and was just about to leave. The doctor told Rose there was no need to stay, to come back in the evening when her patient was back on the ward. The staff reminded Juliette of her arrival in England.

Suddenly a window opened in her mind. There had been a large house in London, but nothing like the camp. Now the name Swanton Convalescent Home was clear. She had lived there, been cared for by nurses in similar uniforms. Soon afterwards she was sent to stay with someone. She sensed at some point her mind had lost trust, however she was unable to know just who took her in. Eventually she'd wound up in Moorvale. The realisation hit home that her life might become one of continual incarceration.

Her arm was splinted and felt numb. Juliette couldn't feel much anyway. She drifted deeper into slumber, seeing the usual images come and go. A pattern was beginning to emerge. First the snow, and her skiing like an expert, her hips twisting to allow her to turn left, then right as she sped down the mountain pass. The men tucked in behind her, and further back the ones with guns. Under incessant fire, they skied for their lives.

But was her mind playing tricks? She dozed off and again she was falling. This time she was plummeting into a snow lined abyss. In slow motion she plunged. Past iced and crystalline daggers that were icicles. The wind was freezing her skin, her muscles and her insides. She choked, spluttered and opened her eyes for a moment.

Now the razor fence of the place she called hell. But here lay no memories of skis, or of the men on the slopes. Just never-ending huts, row upon row. The three story narrow bunks were filled with women and children. This was where she had given birth. Then, other prisoners helped with the delivery, and Juliette nursed her baby, willed its survival. For a short while this was allowed, until _that_ day. Then the devil had snatched her Anna away.

The curtains were drawn back with a swish. Juliette tensed as the treachery lingered in her mind. ' _Allez-vous-en_ ,' she slurred, 'Go away, you can't have her!'

'Got a right one here nurse,' the porter said, raising his eyebrows.

'It's probably the pre-med,' the nurse returned, 'sometimes it has strange effects.' Together they lifted Juliette onto a hard trolley. 'We're taking you for your operation now,' the nurse said slowly, 'lie still please.'

Flat on her back Juliette watched the ceiling lights slip by as the trolley was wheeled through the corridors. Still doped, she was unable to resist. Behind the wire fences she'd witnessed others taken away in a similar manner. They never returned.

_They're finally going to kill me_ , she thought.

'Sit down for a moment Gloria.' Mrs Gee pulled out a kitchen chair. 'I'm going to put the kettle on. We'll have a nice cup of tea and a chat.'

'Yes, Mrs Gee.' Gloria responded, somewhat grateful for the chance to rest her feet. Now at Gentleman's Row for two weeks, she was yet to have a day off. Each shift had been a gruelling round of cooking, cleaning and running errands. Now she felt awkward being idle so arranged the cups and saucers. She shot a concerned glance to Mrs Gee.

'There's nothing to worry about, in fact I'm very pleased with your work,' Mrs Gee said as she poured the tea. Gloria's eyes widened. 'You're a good worker,' continued her employer, 'and having you has freed up my time more than I could have imagined.' She passed Gloria's tea. 'So, I'm pleased to say the job is yours, providing of course you continue to keep up the good work.' She took a cigarette from its packet and winked at Gloria.

'Thank you Mrs Gee, I like it here.'

'Well, I think we've worked out a good system, and there's no doubt you can cook.'

Gloria smiled. She wanted to tell Mrs Gee about the food she was used to back home, like jerk chicken, flatbreads and rice and peas, but she remained silent while her tired eyes looked into her cup. Mrs Gee took a long drag on the cigarette, patted her hair into place with her free hand.

'Have you any questions?'

'Just one,' Gloria began, 'I cook the breakfasts but I don't know who I cook it for. I don't see the people but I would like to know about them.'

Mrs Gee stubbed out her cigarette. 'Oh, I'm not sure about that; it wouldn't do for any gossip to get about. I run a respectable house you know; all my lodgers are decent people.'

'Could I just know what they do for a living?' Mrs Gee looked doubtful. Far off a rumble of thunder shuddered.

'Well, I suppose it won't really do any harm. We've got a doctor, Mr Silver, then there's Mr Drayton, he works in a bank.' She paused to sip her tea. 'Now, let me see, there's the Pink sisters, Alice and Lucy, they both work as typists, and that just leaves Ellinor and Estelle. They're a retired mother and daughter.'

'What's retired?' Gloria said.

Mrs Gee was examining her polished nails, fiddling with one that appeared to be flaking. She answered absentmindedly. 'It's in later life when your workplace gives you a pension, money each week to live on.'

'Will you get one when you're old?' Gloria asked, making Mrs Gee laugh.

'I'll have to sell up this place and live off the proceeds more like,' she said, 'unless I meet a rich man in the meantime!' Gloria joined in the joke, her features glowing with amusement.

'But I do get a tiny widow's pension.' Mrs Gee saw Gloria glance to her ring finger. 'You know, you are a pretty girl.' she said.

Gloria smiled, flashing her superb teeth. 'Well, thank you,' she said softly.

'No, I mean it.' Mrs Gee got up and left the room for a short while, returning with a small envelope. 'This is your first pay packet,' she said. 'A weeks' wages because you've done a week-in-hand. And you can have the day off tomorrow; just make sure you're here bright and early on Monday. Off you go now.'

'Oh thank you Mrs Gee!' Gloria's face was a picture. She grabbed her threadbare coat and tore up the basement steps into the street before the landlady could change her mind. Now she could worship at church with Ellen. Hardly noticing the rain she skipped along the street to the station.

Mrs Gee put her raincoat on and slipped her feet into wellingtons. Her stockings were in holes at the heels, were starting to go at the toe. Still she was luckier than most. She lit a cigarette and stood on the back step looking at the misted rain. She'd considered selling in 1944 but she had her tenants to consider. Then Bert was away, fighting in Italy. For seven years she'd managed the house single-handed. And since Alec Silver's arrival she'd saved enough money to employ a help.

He died at Monte Casino. The day before the errand boy arrived she knew something was wrong. When she'd opened the door he handed her the telegram but was on his bike in an instant. She delayed opening it for hours. If only he'd stayed a few minutes. Eventually on the same doorstep, the words had viciously stabbed her heart. Unable to breathe she had sunk to the floor, she couldn't tell for how long. She and Bert had shared little time, just enough to fall for each other and get married. They moved into Gentleman's Row only weeks before he went to war.

Although attractive the area was not very friendly. However Bert and Greta soon became accepted faces. Once there she went through the house like a thing possessed, cleaning, scrubbing and polishing away the grime of many years. The refurbished rooms were let to upmarket tenants but only those with references. Once widowed she reverted to her maiden name, shortening it to Gee. Now she asked for rent up front and at first thought to take only ladies, but following Bert's death she was glad of masculine conversation.

The rain was heavier now and Mrs Gee hurried along the garden path. Gloria had prepared everything for the evening meal except the vegetables. Mrs Gee took a fork from the shed and dug up a cauliflower and a cabbage. Then she collected three brown eggs from the chicken coop, placing them carefully into her coat pocket. In the kitchen she warmed her hands in front of the stove.

A letter had been posted that morning. Her chin lifted as she read the words. It was from Mrs Pearson at number four, complaining about Gloria. Mrs Gee was aware other neighbours might send similar letters. But Gloria was hidden in the kitchen most of the time. Anyway none of the tenants had noticed her. Mrs Gee screwed up the note and opened one of the hot plates. The letter was consigned to the flames.

'After all I've been through,' she said, 'I'm not working my fingers to the bone.'

Stanley was on the late shift. The suppers had arrived but he was short-handed. It was the fault of one loony, the stupid patient who fell out of bed. He told an orderly he'd lost a nurse to escort duty, with the operation it might take weeks to get her back. Doctor Silver hadn't thrown any more light on the matter, but had mentioned telephoning Chase Farm Hospital first thing after the weekend.

Stanley slopped some soup into a bowl and passed it to the orderly. Those who were able sat at the dining table but less ambulant or just disruptive influences were fed at their beds. The orderly took the bowls round but was met with empty stares.

'Its supper time!' Stanley ejected, as if more volume allowed their comprehension. 'Come on, eat it all up!'

The orderly walked passed Juliette's vacant bed, back to the food trolley. He was given a portion to eat in the kitchen. Stanley took some bread and cheese into the office. The phone shrilled and he grabbed the receiver.

'Hummingbird Ward, Charge Nurse Stanley speaking.'

'This is Sister Simmons from Hind Orthopaedic, Chase Farm,' a clipped voice returned. 'It's about your patient, Miss Juliette León. I'm afraid she's had some sort of reaction to the operation anaesthetic. We're transferring her to Mercury Ward, to a critical care bed.'

'I see Sister, thank you for informing me.'

'That's quite alright. She'll be monitored now and of course you will be kept informed of her progress.'

Alec Silver sat at his window and looked out at the falling rain. It was Saturday evening and he'd not long come up from supper. Most of the other tenants were out this evening, Mrs Gee at the pictures and the two young typists were dancing. Mr Drayton had been gone all day visiting his mother in Golders Green. Alec had only glimpsed the women who lived in the basement. They had a nice bit of garden but never seemed to go out there. Mrs Gee told him Ellinor prepared their meals apart from Sunday tea when she delivered sandwiches on a tray. It seemed Estelle was very old and slept most of the time.

The house felt eerie even though he knew the women were downstairs. He wanted a lighter feeling to replace the heaviness of the past week. The intention of asking Mrs Gee for a drink seemed a poor decision, but he was confused. After all, she was a perfectly respectable woman with quite good looks. She had to have some intelligence to keep the house going. If only she had more taste, he was sure this would give her appeal. But the moment had passed, and at least he carried no betrayal to Ivy.

Just before supper he'd received a call from the sanatorium. He listened in the hall as they said his wife was to be discharged. There was nothing more they could do. He was quiet at supper and only picked at his food, but was relieved the others showed no interest.

His pipe had gone out and he had little energy to light it. Outside the rain dripped relentlessly from the guttering onto the window ledge. Alec's thoughts darkened. He ran moist fingers over his shadowed face, but his mind rested on Mrs Gee. Her form seemed immovable when he should have seen Ivy. Out of nowhere the León patient dropped into his despair. How like his wife she was. Except that Ivy was dying. It was insufferable this patient had the strength to fight. He wanted the treatments to punish her, but he also felt hate for his wife.

Juliette León was from France, but her branded arm proved she must be an enemy of Germany. He had no other interest in her past and even less concern for maddened claims about her infant. He lifted hooded eyes and looked again at the rain. All at once, Juliette reared up like a demon. Her face laughed at his wife's death. And Ivy's body in the cold, damp earth clung to his being. This was the chasm she was condemned to. His fingers tore at his hair as he strained to focus.

'No!' he yelled. 'She's mine. Only I can take her life.' Hunched spider-like he repeated the words under his breath, chanting them until they became replaced with almost inaudible sobs.

Suddenly he scraped the chair to one side. But the vision remained like a torment underlining Ivy's collapse. Alec staggered to the wardrobe and flung the door wide. He ripped her dress from its hanger, grasped it to his body and collapsed on the floor. Sobs tore from his throat as he lay prostrate, his face buried in the blood coloured cloth. Words whispered inside his head urging him to plan, to act and reap revenge. They told him to kill.

The wardrobe door swung lazily on its hinges. Inside, the black shirt slipped from its hanger as if commanding Alec to use it once again.

****~~~****

**Chapter 6**

Her hands stung for days but Lena managed to conceal them from her parents. The headmaster had been so incensed he struck her palms repeatedly. The caning had brought forth tears and humiliated Lena vowed to get her own back on Horace. She lay in bed and listened to the rain beating against the window. The sound mingled with voices downstairs and the tick of her alarm clock. It was the same one she needed to set for four am when she ran away. She planned to take her father's haversack and sneak out in the dark. The milkman came after five so Lena felt certain she would go unnoticed. The biggest problem was where to go. The few people she knew were neighbours or relatives and that just wouldn't do.

Her parents didn't know she had been at the asylum, when she tried to explain they hadn't been interested, told her to go to her room and be quiet. Lena snuggled under the covers and thought really hard. The asylum was a big place; it had lots of buildings, some of which might be empty. There were fields and barns and even a chapel in the grounds. Surely she could find a hidey hole. There was no real choice but to go back and explore.

She drifted off to a light sleep only to wake with a start. Her father had locked the back door for the night and was coming up the stairs. His heavy feet seemed to be in time with her bedside clock. She rolled over and her aching hands found a paper fairie beneath the pillow. Comforted by this she whispered her plans to the effigy and soon fell asleep.

Lena awoke the next morning and put on her Sunday dress. It was the same dress she wore to parties and to visit relatives and was becoming too small for her. At breakfast her mother complained she couldn't afford new clothes for herself, let alone for Lena. But Lena had seen a ladies outfit delivered just the previous week, with matching shoes and hat.

'It's the rationing,' her mother said, 'you'll just have to put up with it.'

Lena ate her plain toast and said nothing. They walked the few streets to church in the rain. Mr Crumbe held an umbrella over his wife while Lena pulled a dampened hat over her ugly hair. She dreaded getting comments about it after mass. Mr Crumbe stiffened visibly as they passed the Pentecostal Church. Gospel music rang from the open door.

'Disgraceful place,' he said, 'they're allowed to lose all control in there, Marcia.'

'It shouldn't be allowed,' Mrs Crumbe returned as she pushed Lena past the building, 'you won't find such behaviour in the Gospels!'

It was dry in church but colder than outside. Lena had quite liked the music coming from the Pentecostal church and didn't understand why it was wrong. The few hymns she sang now sounded drab and tuneless compared to what she'd just heard. The congregation was mostly of old, grey looking people who peered at her down their noses. Everybody sat while the Vicar gave the weekly sermon, the most boring part of all for Lena. She slumped on the pew and thought about the fairies at the asylum, how soon there might be another chance to see them.

Alec picked up a towel and a bar of coal-tar soap from the basin in his room. It was his night for a bath. Eagerly he made his way to the second landing, past the Pink sisters' room. The girls were in their early twenties with only a few years between them. He thought they behaved very much like twins, although in looks they were quite different. Lucy was small and blonde while Alice was taller and had brown hair. If they had been the same size they could have swapped clothes but Alec noticed they often wore similar colours.

He opened the bathroom door and coughed. One of the sisters was in there, drying her hair with a towel. Brazenly, she wore only a petticoat and a pair of heeled mules. He checked his wrist for the time but had left his watch behind.

'This is my slot,' he announced with irritation. Lucy Pink swept past him, a good deal closer than was necessary.

'Just going Doctor, its all yours,' she drawled. Alec found anger rising up from somewhere primeval, along with the urge to strike her. He was shocked to feel his right hand form into a fist.

'Very well.' He spat the words. Reluctantly he unpeeled his fingers. Lucy flounced off to her room while he shut and locked the door.

Soaking in the bath, buried memories surfaced. His father had come home from the Great War in 1917 strangely frightened of water. He cringed and flinched at sudden noises, and the bright young Alec had grown ashamed of him. After a while the locals started calling his father a coward and worse, a madman. Alec had despised the weakness in his parent and vowed to be a different, better man. After some improvement his father returned to dentistry but could only work confidently with classical music in the background.

Alec thought about all the things he'd believed in before the second war, before he met Ivy. How even through medical school he abhorred illness in any kind, shape or form. He remembered the black-shirt rallies he'd attended secretly and how, on a very special occasion he shook the hand of Oswald Mosley. The papers had called it the _Battle of Cable Street_. Alec had travelled to the East End to take part, but luckily was not apprehended. If things had gone differently it might have spelled the end for his medical studies.

He took up the scrubbing brush and worked it between his toes and around his heels. But then he recalled Lucy Pink. Her face as she swept past him, the defiance in her eyes at being caught in the bathroom on his night. Women, he reflected, were abominably weak and foolish. He seemed to think even the bible said: 'Woman, thy name is frailty.' Alec's soapy foot hit the water with a splosh. For some reason he was reluctant to put Mrs Gee into this same category, even though he disapproved about certain of her traits. He pushed all thoughts of her away for now.

There had been hundreds of black-shirts at the Cable Street rally, but where were they now? Surely there were still others who felt as he had, as he still did? They couldn't all have perished in the war. He got out of the bath and dried himself with a thinning, hard towel. It scratched at his skin and made it chap. He wiped the steam from the mirror and with a trembling hand caught a glance of his expression in the glass.

'Tonight,' he said to his reflection, 'I will do something about it tonight.'

Evening service at the Pentecostal church saw Ellen and Gloria for the second time that day. The rain had continued on and off but being Sunday the sisters always worshipped twice. They had no umbrella, only the silk scarves they wore over their heads as a symbol of subservience to the Lord. After mass the rain cleared enough for them to visit their mother's grave. Their father had died in a field hospital and was buried near El Alamein. Ellen stooped to pick up a lost glove draped by the plain memorial. She took the garment to a nearby bench. Gloria had brought some lavender sprigs from the back yard at Plantation House and she placed these by the wood cross at the head of the grave.

'One day Mama, I swear we will save enough money for a proper headstone,' she said. The two girls clasped hands and prayed together in whispered tones before they began the long walk home. An early autumn chill hung in the air and Gloria hastened her step, forcing her sister to trot beside her.

'Sissy, you know full well I got shorter legs than you,' Ellen grumbled.

'Don't you complain, the quicker we get back the sooner we can eat our supper,' Gloria reasoned. Ellen hesitated while she caught her breath. They arrived outside the sweetshop where Gloria had bought the liquorice comforts. The window display still promised all manner of delights. Pink and green turkish delight; pear drops, dark red _Koff_ candy, barley sugar, and black and white mint humbugs, liquorice and Pontefract cakes, but all on ration. Inside an adjoining window were cigarettes, cigars and pouches of tobacco, little tins of snuff and several styles of smoking pipes. Ellen's eyes widened as she surveyed this luxurious assortment, but Gloria pulled her from the window. The skies dimmed as some raindrops pattered down.

'We got some jelly beans left at home,' she said, dragging her sister away, 'We can have them after our soup.' But Ellen looked downcast.

'You know what I wish for?' she said.

'No, wait: Chocolate?'

Ellen's expression remained unchanged. 'I wish we could go right on back to Jamaica, that's where I really long to be.'

The rain had started again, light and fleeting at first, then heavier spray lashed their legs. Soon they were soaked through. They ran the rest of the way home, Gloria secretly needing the same sweet wish as Ellen's.

After church Marcia Crumbe took Lena roughly by the arm and hissed a warning. 'I'm taking you to see Mademoiselle and Ellinor,' she said, 'so just you mind your manners while we're there.' Mademoiselle owned the sweet shop and tobacconist long before Lena's father had bought the lease. She was old and had wrinkles and her daughter Ellinor never went out because she had a skin eruption called Wet Eczema. Lena thought it looked as if her face was peeling off but was too scared to study it closely. They lived in the basement flat at 8 Gentleman's Row.

Lena's father had gone back to the shop, and although she wanted to follow him it was no use. Her mother ushered her towards the station and after one change they were on the train to Burnt Oak. Lena kept her hat pulled down over her ears, ever conscious of the fact that she looked ridiculous. She wondered what they would be given for lunch. Mademoiselle usually got the landlady to make sandwiches and seed cake. Lena would much rather have gone home to a roast dinner and suet pudding. Her mother saw her fiddling with the hat and pulled her hands away.

'Stop being such a fidget Lena,' she said, 'it's enough to try the patience of a saint.' A young mother sitting opposite with a small boy gave Mrs Crumbe a sympathetic smile. Lena slouched and studied the knees of an elderly woman. They were swollen and covered with thick wrinkled stockings. Lena wondered if fairies ever grew old and decided next time she saw them to ask.

Mrs Gee answered the door at Gentleman's Row. 'Hello Mrs Crumbe, hello Lena. Go straight through, I've made a cold lunch as usual.'

'Thank you Mrs Gee.' Lena's mother said, 'that's very good of you, I'm sure.' The landlady gave Lena a ruby smile and added, 'there's some extra special cake today, young lady.'

Lena thanked her and followed her mother into the dimmed rooms. She sat quietly in her usual place, a hard chair by the window. The rooms were shaded with heavy blinds and thick velvet curtains that her mother said must be full of dust. Ellinor sat in the corner of the room, her face mostly shadowed from view. Mademoiselle did much of the talking because although frail, she seemed to have an inexhaustible jaw. Lena wished she would quieten down so they could have some food, but the sandwiches were not served until over an hour later. Lena kept time by watching the grandmother clock standing beside Ellinor's chair. Now and then she stole a glimpse of the peeling face, pale and waxy with ghoulish red-rimmed eyes.

The sandwiches were potted paste with some of Mrs Gee's home grown lettuce and nasturtium leaves. After lunch Lena asked if she might go into the garden and Mademoiselle let her out at the french doors. 'Now don't touch anything child,' she said in a deep accent. But Lena was gone, racing up the path towards the apple trees and temporary freedom. She climbed to the top of the tallest tree and looked out over the far side of the garden. Beyond the vegetable beds the old air raid shelter had been converted to a hen-house and a row of rabbit hutches were fashioned from wooden tea-chests. Lena wanted to go and look at the animals but knew she was forbidden to do so. They were not pets, her mother had told her on many occasions.

It seemed like hours later when her mother called her in for tea. The cake was special; it had currants in it and some thin icing Mrs Gee had spread on the top. Lena felt the day was improving all the time and even her mother seemed to have softened after her long chat with Mademoiselle. As they left it seemed to Lena Ellinor needed to tell her something but she only waved goodbye. Lena pressed a bag of pear drops into her hand. It was almost impossible to get chocolate, Mrs Crumbe was saying, but she would do her best to bring some toffees next time.

The ward sister took Rose aside. She had returned to Hind Ward for escort duty, but found her patient was no longer there.

'She's been taken to Mercury Ward,' the sister said, 'doctor thinks she has suffered some form of reaction to the anaesthetic. We have a list of her medication here, can you check through it?' Rose looked through the list and passed it back to the sister.

'That's all the drugs we give her, but I can't speak for what she might have had in Germany.'

'Explain please,' the sister said, 'surely that was years ago?' She ushered Rose into her tiny office.

'Well, I've taken a special interest in this case; I mean I'm doing a case study on this patient.'

'Go on.' Rose faltered for a moment. 'I haven't got all day nurse,' the sister said.

'It's just that I've noticed old needle marks on her arms. She doesn't seem to remember much about them but I feel they could be where she was drugged in the concentration camp.'

'Or perhaps tortured? It's alright nurse, we have to face up to the fact that these things happened, unbelievable as they are to you or I. But the effects of any drugs would surely have worn off by now?'

'Yes,' Rose said. 'I'm sure that's true, but we've no idea what substances they might have used, or how much damage was caused.'

'I shall pass your comments on to the doctor, and thank you for speaking up. I saw the marks you spoke of and assumed they were from her treatment regime at Moorvale.'

'At present all her medication is by mouth.' Rose said, ashamed to admit the wet-sheet and shock treatments.

When Juliette woke her arm throbbed but her head was agony. The realisation she was actually alive hit home, but for a second she wished death had taken her during the operation. A sick lump in her stomach made her retch and groan. She cried out involuntarily. A nurse appeared, switched on a lamp and told her pain relief was coming.

'You've been very ill,' she said, 'try to stay awake while I fetch Sister.'

Juliette breathed into her splintered lungs. She wondered what the time was, as if it somehow mattered. She could hear lashing rain and howling wind that rattled the windows. And with each stab of pain the word Snowbird dropped into her consciousness.

When she returned the nurse took her pulse and blood pressure, while the sister administered an injection. The nurse tidied the bedclothes and told Juliette she was on the acute ward because of her reaction to the anaesthetic.

'You'll be alright now,' she said, 'try to get back off to sleep.'

Tears escaped before Juliette's eyes were sealed. But the familiar snow scene appeared in her mind and she knew by now it must be surrendered to.

High on the mountain and stationary on her skis she hid under a clump of trees. She was with the men, poised like a doe with her young, alert and ready for danger. Her body flinched in the bed as a shot rang out, breaking through the muffled silence of the mountain. Juliette tried to open her eyes but the injection was already taking effect. Miles above her a tearing, ripping groan of snow alerted her to flee.

Off she sped with the men so close behind she could hear them fight for breath. They had to outrun the avalanche or be killed, buried and forgotten for all time. Down the pass they sped, as the adrenaline surged through her veins. Now her skis vibrated against harder, iced snow. It sent painful shock waves up her legs, through her knees and into her hips, trunk and arms. But they dare not slow now. Tucking the ski poles under their arms they raced for their lives.

A backward glance revealed her attackers. They were very close. Opening fire prompted a shriek from one of the men. Juliette shot a sideways glance. He nodded as he overtook her. She could tell he only had a flesh wound but nonetheless it could leave a trail of blood. Speeding ahead of the snow-slide the three veered off, unexpectedly gaining some ground. A thunderous noise reverberated inside her, knocking out all concentration.

One by one they leaped over a shallow crevasse. Soon they were travelling through a copse of alpines. This gave them cover, but the going was becoming tough. Juliette pulled up abruptly and signalled to get down behind some scrub. From their hiding place she saw the avalanche, rolling and crashing down the mountain pass, threatening to entomb all it encountered.

Suddenly their assailants were swallowed by the wall of molten snow, their legs and arms flailing uselessly. Buried alive, the enemy were smashed. But as they paused all feared there could be more troopers to follow. The men drank from water bottles while Juliette tied a scarf onto the bleeding arm. Through snow-goggles she could see his eyes soften in gratitude.

'Come,' she said grittily, 'we must continue.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 7**

'Glad you popped in old man,' Jeremy Marsh said, 'I've just had a call about the new patients.' Alec took the seat Marsh offered and nodded his acknowledgment. 'They should arrive next Wednesday and I would like you to settle them in.' Marsh handed Alec a file. 'These are their case notes but not the whole story, some of it remains with the military, you understand.'

'Do you know what they did before they were captured?' Alec said.

'Er, I'm not at liberty to say; it's a delicate subject I'm afraid.'

'I don't like working in the dark,' Alec said, 'but I'll do the best I can.'

'Good,' Marsh replied, 'have you thought any further about a more active treatment?'

Alec took a deep breath. 'Well, depending on what I find in the notes, I would favour some form of outdoor work combined with say, electric shock treatment.'

Marsh pulled at his moustache making his mouth frown. 'I'm not sure.' he said carefully. 'About the shock treatment I mean.'

'You can't deny we've had good results in the past.'

'Yes, understood.' Marsh hesitated for a moment. 'Very well then,' he said suddenly, 'as long as you have the correctly trained staff when you do it, and you give them a good couple of weeks' assessment first.'

'Alright,' Alec said slowly. He continued, 'I suppose you've heard about the patient on Hummingbird?'

'Ah yes, the female amnesiac? Took a fall and fractured, was it her wrist?'

'That's right; well actually her arm. When we get her back I'd like to change her therapy to insulin-shock treatment. I'm concerned about her level of aggression.' Marsh paused while he tapped the desk with his pen.

'Wasn't she, I mean hadn't she also been in one of those camps?'

'Yes,' Alec said, sitting forward, 'although she doesn't remember much about it. That's my reason for insulin treatment.' He averted Marsh's gaze. 'Because the shock sessions slow the senses I'm hoping it will help her memory return.'

'But we don't know that won't cause deeper problems.' Marsh folded his hands and rested them on the blotter. 'I've recently read how prisoners were forced to stand for hours in all weathers, but God knows what else they did to her. It's come to light they gave German troops a drug called Pervitin. Initially it was used to give them more energy,' he held Alec's stare as he spoke, 'but it also made some of them psychotic, numb to all feelings of humanity.'

Alec crossed his legs. 'I still think this treatment would be beneficial.'

'I don't know Alec; I'll have to think about this one. Send her notes over to me would you?'

After work Alec sought out Cecil in the grounds. There was something he needed to ask him. After that he dropped into The Mermaid. He was in no hurry to get back to Burnt Oak and Gentleman's Row; he wasn't in the mood for the other tenants or the cheerful chirping of Mrs Gee. Just how he'd felt when he first moved there, intolerant of such dull, ordinary people.

He sat at a corner table and read the case notes. In January 1940 the servicemen parachuted into Germany near Frankfurt. There was no record of what happened after this until they were seized near the German border. Then they were taken to Dachau concentration camp near Munich. It seemed they'd tried to escape on several occasions, had dug tunnels and once tried to get out in disguise. Eventually they were freed by American troops in 1945. After months of convalescence they spent a further two years in Egypt before arriving back in Britain.

While in Egypt some mental symptoms erupted and were reported to the camp doctor. Godfrey Pringle developed a facial tick and general anxiety, while Wilbur Duke stared all day into the distance but jumped a mile at sudden noise. The youngest of the three Daniel Kingdom, became bulimic. The report stated they were all underweight after liberation from Dachau and even recently had not gained much bulk. None of them were married. They had returned to their homes and families but it seemed all three found extreme difficulty fitting back into society.

Alec hadn't noticed the landlord. 'I can see you're busy Governor,' he said, 'but the missus says it's gone seven and that nice Doctor Silver hasn't had any tea. She made you a sandwich, fresh like.' Alec looked down and saw the plate of food. He met the landlady's smile behind the bar.

'Thanks very much,' he said, and searched in his pocket for some change, 'and I think I'll have another pint of bitter to go with it.'

Returning with drinks for both, the landlord reminded Alec of their last meeting. 'You remember me telling you about Silas Tench?' he said.

'I do Maurice, and I've since seen his grave,' Alec replied, recounting Cecil's tour of the churchyard. He shuffled the papers into his briefcase.

'Well, what you said about the navy,' the landlord slurped his beer. 'It got me to thinking, wondering really, what you did if someone died in the submarine. Being underwater for weeks on end, where did you put them?' Alec was relieved that was all he wanted to know.

'That's easy,' he said, 'any dead are ejected through a special tube into the ocean, much like a ship's burial but done while submerged.'

'Of course, silly me,' Maurice laughed, 'I should have thought of that myself.'

'Why do you ask?' Alec said between mouthfuls of food.

'I've been thinking about Silas, how he robbed those graves in the last century. They were children he robbed, did I mention that?'

Alec stopped eating. 'No, I don't remember that part.' The landlord nodded and tapped the side of his nose.

'I only know on account of..,' he hesitated while he searched for the word, 'the tran-sac-tion was done in this very pub.'

'I don't quite follow you,' Alec began.

Maurice appeared nervous as he exaggerated each syllable. 'Silas dug them up and sold them to a surgeon for experiments. He made quite a tidy sum out of it.'

'Didn't anyone stop him?' Alec said.

'Why would they? They were only workhouse kids. I don't think anyone even noticed.'

Gloria waited patiently outside the Turkish Baths. It was gone six thirty and Ellen was very late. She shifted from one foot to the other, turning her head away from the wind. Her ears were numb, even under a headscarf. Gloria was concerned the recent rain made their room damp. But at least the smog seemed lighter. In the summer the air had hung like soup while her clothes stuck to her body.

Gloria shivered. She approached the entrance to the baths just as Ellen turned the corner. Annoyingly she greeted her sister with a wide smile.

'Where have you been?' Gloria seized Ellen by the arm and dragged her into the baths.

'I had to work overtime, its extra money. I thought you'd be pleased.'

'I'll be pleased when the evening is over and I'm asleep. Now we'll have a late supper and its all because of you.' Ellen hung her head.

'I'm sorry,' she said sadly. Gloria paid and collected two towels at the desk. In silence they made their way to the changing rooms.

In the steam room hot air hissed and slowly Gloria relaxed. Clad in long towels they made their way to the massage area. Warm oil was poured on Gloria's shoulders before hard fingers pushed down and kneaded her muscles. The pressure made her think about Ellen. She let out a heavy sigh. Knowing she needed to be a mother and sister was a load to bear. Ellen wasn't bright or good at things but Gloria didn't feel superior. Like a true parent she was ready to chide if needed. However, her temper had erupted tonight when Ellen had only wanted to earn a few more shillings.

Tears formed behind her eyes. They fought their way out and burst down her hot, damp face. If only Mama had not brought them to England, this land of rain and cold, and people who despised them. The masseur slapped her arm, the usual signal to turn on to her back. Gloria settled on the couch and began to doze. Soon she was asleep.

When she woke she saw her dream. Mrs Gee was away on a holiday and had left Gloria in charge of Gentleman's Row. Ellen was helping, and on her return Mrs Gee was so impressed she employed both girls full-time. Gloria saw them moving out of their grimy digs and into better rooms near Burnt Oak.

By the time they left the baths Gloria had apologised to Ellen. And there was a new idea. With Ellen's extra wage they could eat at a restaurant instead of going home for supper.

'Think of that,' Gloria said as Ellen looked on aghast, 'waitresses, tea and cake and-'

'Are you sure about this? I'm worried about you, yes I am.' Ellen nodded as she said it. But Gloria grabbed Ellen's arm and whisked her off towards the High Street.

'Come on,' she said, 'we'll catch the bus.'

Alec had missed his bus again. Anyway after three pints and the landlord of The Mermaid he decided a night walk might clear his head. Quite what Maurice had meant about the stolen children, and why it was he now felt curious about them made him feel unsound. He pushed these ridiculous sensations away. In the back of his mind there hung a more pressing matter. A letter he had written to a former black-shirt comrade. As yet he'd received no reply, but knew his friend lived near Cockfosters. Alec began absently walking in this direction, but before long became lost and had to ask the way. It was gone nine and the streets were dark, all but for the dull lamplight reflecting on the now dampened pavements.

He tripped in the gloom and now irritated, his attention switched to Juliette. The woman had rallied again, in spite of a reaction to the drugs. And on her return to Moorvale he was blocked from starting his new regime because Marsh didn't _like_ the idea. Alec said the name angrily. 'Marcshh! What an idiot!' He steadied himself against a lamp-post. A man walked past and Alec asked him for further directions. Turn right at the bomb crater, the man said, pointing further along the road.

Alec's thoughts about the asylum continued. He imagined there wasn't much room now, in the small churchyard. Aware some inmates were nearly sane, he'd witnessed recovering ones working in the laundry or gardening. Cecil acted as their unofficial supervisor and opened the main gates for traffic and deliveries. He also held the east door key. When Cecil volunteered to show Alec the gravestone of Silas, he'd claimed to be a direct descendant.

Cecil told Alec he'd been committed after serving in the trenches in the First World War. He became frightened of everything, a horse neighing, a car backfiring, even a child throwing a stone. For a short time he'd been sent to the asylum. After treatment he was too nervous to live in society and felt safer inside the grounds. He was allowed to live in the outhouse on condition he worked for his keep. Alec had at once thought of his own father, how he had come back from that war a much weaker individual than before.

Through the mist Alec saw the faint outline of an enclosure, right in the middle of the road. As he approached, signs announced: 'Keep Out' and 'Danger'. The pit was dark, but a street lamp glinted on something at the very bottom. He leant over the shaft, sobering up a little in the cold. Alec stretched further over the fence and detected the tip of a missile. The bomb poked out defiantly. The water might be from a spring or underground table, but was probably due to rainfall. Alec wondered how deep it was. But without doubt, it was an ideal place to hide a corpse.

In the dead of night Juliette dreamt. She drifted through a world so surreal that her body contorted between the starched sheets. From the edge of a deep blue sea Juliette dived. She flew so high into the air the earth became a ball she couldn't return to. She ran through fields of golden corn and skied over glaciers, gliding into mallow softness while powder spayed up and over her being. In the near silence she passed higher slopes, steeper ravines. And all the while they stayed on her tail, the _snowbirds_ she must lead to safety.

A sudden noise snapped at her senses and revealed a nurse closing the fire door. As she swept past the odour of tobacco was obvious. Juliette adjusted the pillows, checked her sore arm. She closed her eyes for a moment, only to open them wide again. It was a way out! The idea deafened her so she almost shushed herself. She craned her neck to get a better view. Although on the opposite side of the ward, the exit was only a stone's throw from her bed.

At four in the morning she was still awake, listening to the Matron's ward round. Feigning sleep she heard patronising comments. What a poor scrap she looked and what an awful time she must've endured in the war. Later the junior nurse was sent to butter bread for the morning. The Staff nurse was head down, writing the night report in dimmed light. Juliette took a deep breath. She dreaded going back to Moorvale and Doctor Silver, but there might just be a chance of escape. She would have to time it correctly but Juliette seemed aware of other, more dangerous risks in her past. She prepared for a long rest that day with a possible getaway the following night. With this exhilarating plan in place, it was some time before she finally slept again.

Since her first visit to the asylum weeks had passed. Lena's hair was now curling around her ears, but she'd not forgotten her mother's wrath. Even so, she needed to investigate the grounds before she ran away forever. Then at half-term, Mrs Sullivan let her delighted pupils go early. This was most unusual, but Lena was not about to waste the opportunity. Before anyone got into the yard she'd sped away, through the gates and up the road. She didn't turn back to watch her classmates spill out onto the pavement.

After several minutes she stopped to rest. Her chest was sore and her legs burned. Then she remembered an aniseed ball in her satchel. Soon she was running again with the gobstopper lodged between her teeth. The place she'd imagined often, but today the journey was strange and Lena doubted her directions. She slowed the pace and turned the last corner. The wall stretched before her. Gingerly she made her way to the door, turning the now smaller sweet around her mouth. She tried the latch, and once more entered the grounds.

Lena hid once more, but not before jamming the lock with a paperclip. If she was sure of anything it was not to be locked in again. Above her the skies were darkening as if in preparation for a really good downpour. The gobstopper had now completely dissolved, leaving the bitter aniseed that formed the centre. Slowly, she ventured along the wall. Lena broke cover to dart to an outbuilding and shuffled along its length. She peeked through a small window. As if the fairies had planned it, she saw a sleeping place complete with bed and washstand. It was almost too much to hope for, and a little excited yelp escaped her lips. She clasped her hands over her mouth.

Obscured by the hut Lena surveyed the main building. A hedge veiled her short run alongside the courtyard. This area was so bereft that Lena became unnerved. She froze as a door opened. Somebody said goodbye while another voice was saying have a good day off. Her heart pumped so hard it had to spell discovery, but the worker ambled off towards the main gates. Lena crept back to her original spot.

There she waited patiently for her friends. But time was passing and she couldn't afford to tarry. Eventually someone appeared. The man wore a grey coat and made straight for the hut. She held her breath. He was the man she'd seen here before. She saw him pause as if looking for something. Although disappointed, Lena realised she must go. She slipped out of the door and onto the street. Seconds later she heard the key struggling to turn against the paperclip. Having little idea of the time she ran all the way home.

'You're home early,' her mother snapped when she entered the scullery, 'it's only two thirty.'

'Mrs Sullivan let us out early,' Lena panted.

'Well, you can take your milk upstairs. I've got Mrs Scattergood coming round and we don't want you under our feet.'

Lena climbed the stairs, careful not to spill her drink. In her bedroom she heard Mrs Scattergood's boomed conversation. Two dogs had got stuck together on Orchard Road and eventually someone called a policeman. He threw water over them but that didn't work. Mrs Tiller at number thirty two owned the bitch. Mr Tiller said he'd put the puppies in a sack and drown the lot because money was so tight. Mrs Tiller told him she'd seen quite enough killing in the war and she herself would find homes for the pups.

Lena flopped onto the bed and pulled off her shoes. Relief engulfed her, even without seeing the fairies. She stretched her legs and wiggled her toes. She didn't care about her missed lunch. As she sipped the creamy milk two things occurred to her. One, the asylum door must be locked routinely mid-afternoon, and two, that her tiny friends only appeared after dark.

Whatever happened now, she must stick to the plan and abscond from home.

****~~~****

**Chapter 8**

Ellen lowered her eyes and used the cotton serviette to dab her mouth. She took another sip of tea and a small bite of scone. Since arriving at the Corner House her fears had been realised. The waitress had seated them right at the back in a draught and people were staring. Ellen edged closer to Gloria and whispered.

'They're all looking at us, we shouldn't be here.' Gloria poured more tea and smiled sweetly at Ellen's desperate face.

'Sis, please let's go now,' Ellen urged.

'In a minute.' Gloria said firmly, 'When I've finished my tea.' She took a last gulp from the cup and placed it delicately on the saucer. She gathered her coat and scarf and took Ellen's arm. They heard muted admonishments and noticed indignant glances as they passed other customers. Once back on the street Ellen started.

'That was awful, please don't ever make me go there again.'

'What do you mean?' Gloria said, 'Didn't you enjoy your tea?'

'Well yes, the food was lovely, but I'm all churned up. My stomach is on fire.'

'You worry too much Ellen; you must learn to ignore such things.'

'It was _my_ overtime money,' Ellen grumbled, but Gloria ignored her.

'If I tell you the truth, will you promise we don't have to go back there?' Ellen pleaded.

'What truth? What are you babbling about now?'

Ellen lowered her head but kept walking. 'I never did see those little ghosts,' she said, 'I made it up after I was showed the grave by a patient. It was _her_ who said she'd seen them.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Gloria said, but then recalled throwing the rabbit foot on the fire. She turned on Ellen. 'You mean you were pretending to be so scared? Why did you say it if it was all lies?'

'I, I wanted you to get me out of the asylum. It's only because it's so horrible there and I hate it so much.'

'It's a sin to lie and another sin to hate, you know that.'

Ellen was crying now, sobbing softly into her hands. Gloria stopped and relented enough to give her a hug. 'I'm sorry Ellen, I do forgive you. I'll try as hard as I can to get you out of there. Isn't there anyone nice you can talk to?'

Ellen thought. 'The lady who saw the little people,' she said eventually, 'she carries a doll and visits me sometimes, but I haven't seen her recently.'

'Perhaps it's too cold for her to go outside. Maybe we should pray for her tonight.' Gloria suggested.

'Yes, I'd like to.' agreed Ellen. She wiped her face and smiled.

They walked home arm in arm, through the glistening back streets, past the vast bomb crater. The moon was full, brightening the streets when the clouds parted. Eventually they arrived at their tenement block. The room was cold, grimy and uninviting as ever. Gloria set to work on making up the fire while Ellen changed into her nightwear. They knelt either side of the bed to say their devotions, crossing themselves as they gazed lovingly at the picture of Jesus. Gloria knew how things were going to turn out; she'd seen it at the Turkish Baths, like a sign from God. Now she gave thanks for his everlasting mercy and love before she climbed under the cold sheets to sleep.

The rain fell onto the asylum courtyard, loosening years of impacted soil, seeping down into the underworld. Queen Mab was taking shelter from the deluge as were all her attendants. In a glade within the grounds the fairies rested in the fir tree. It was cool in summer and provided protection through the colder months. Ladybirds and bumblebees sometimes brought messages and peace offerings of food. Songbirds were only too happy to donate soft feathers and cushions of fluffy moss while the entourage were holed up in bad weather.

But even with this luxury the Queen grew restless. She asked a Sprite to tell her saddest story. The Sprite began: 'A long time ago four children were buried in secret. But this was not their first resting place. From the workhouse graveyard, Silas Tench stole their bodies and sold them to a doctor. This surgeon dissected them, to learn more about people's organs and anatomy.'

Mab thought how disgusting humans were. And, how very odd it was they possessed a solid form. One that needed constant care and that sometimes became ill, needing doctors and medicine.

'Go on,' she told the Sprite, even though she knew the tale.

'Silas Tench couldn't live with his actions,' the Sprite continued, 'he went to the hospital and stole back the bodies. He brought them to the graveyard in his barrow, but then decided to put them where they'd never be found. He did this in a mad panic, and to this day the place remains unknown.'

'Nicely told,' Mab said. 'You may leave.' The Sprite curtsied and flew off, just as a sentinel fairie arrived.

'I have news, your majesty,' she said, 'there is a visitor below.'

The Queen jumped eagerly to her feet. 'Is it the girl-child?' she said.

'No, its..,' The sentinel pushed back a branch and revealed someone splashing about in the rain. Out of its head came thick, curled horns. Mab signalled her guards to make contact. They whizzed off, diving down to the dampened grass. When it saw them the creature laughed and danced with delight. But it was unable to fly, so the Queen was forced to descend to ground level.

'To whom am I speaking?' Mab asked, as regally as she could.

'Why, to Lord Pan my lady, King of the Underworld.'

'I see.' Mab hesitated while she regarded his form. Almost twice her size he stood on cloven feet. His top half was human-like save for the twisted horns and long ears. His lower half was as a goat, even tailed as such.

'Well?' she continued, pulling herself up to her full height. 'What is your business here?'

'I have come a long way my lady,' Pan began, 'to ask of you a riddle.'

'Oh, to what purpose?'

'I am informed of a child, one who would be very useful to my kingdom.'

Incensed, Mab aimed her wand. 'Who dares to tell you such things?'

'One of my courtiers. You see, I am Lord over the pixies, leprechauns, trolls and centaurs, as well as all who slither and slide; the slugs and snails, snakes and spiders, beetles and...'

'Yes yes,' Mab seemed to become flustered for a moment, and her entourage straightened her crown. 'And I am Queen of the May, of all the fairies, elves, sprites and unicorns as well as all the flowers bees and birds, butterflies and all the nature spirits.' Her voice boomed.

'Of what use is a girl-child to you?' Pan's nostrils flared with indignation.

'That shall remain secret among my fairie kin.'

'It is customary to accept such a challenge,' Pan said, 'do you agree to solve my riddle? If you can't guess it I shall require all your knowledge regarding the child. However, if you are successful I will leave gracefully and bid you farewell.'

The Queen conferred with her aides while flower fairies offered Pan fresh water and nectar to drink. Some time later she reappeared, and seemed slightly taller than before.

'Very well,' she began, 'give me your riddle if you please.'

Pan straightened up, his expression tensed. 'What hides beneath the earth, sleeps without waking and then becomes three?'

Mab closed her eyes and concentrated. She was in no mood for trickery, especially where the girl-child was concerned. Pan danced from hoof to hoof in joy, as if confident of his victory. Finally she spoke.

'A bear.' she said.

'Ah, but what type of bear?' And he danced a little more with obvious glee.

'A brown bear of course.' Mab said.

'No, it's a Polar bear! I win, I win, I win!'

Furious, the Queen shot a lightening bolt from her wand, knocking him down and singeing one of his horns. He shook his head and grinned craftily.
'Perhaps we should call it a draw? I shall return with a second riddle dear Queen,' he said. Bowing, Pan took his leave.

Her subjects resumed their duties while Mab paced the royal chamber. Pan was up to no good. She feared defeat and the possible end of her reign. She glanced outside and noticed a bird. Caught in the storm the sparrow was cold and bedraggled. She raised her wand toward it and sprinkled healing dust. Immediately the bird began to glow and sing. Surrounding fairies bowed reverently to their queen while the bird flew back to its home. Mab returned to her throne, a noble smile masking her concerns.

It was wash day at Gentleman's Row and clean sheets swung on the line. The autumn wind blew in cool air from the east making Gloria shiver.

'I'm all goose pimples,' Mrs Gee said.

'Goose, what?' Gloria laughed at her employer.

'Here,' Mrs Gee rolled up her cardigan and showed her forearms. Gloria regarded the raised bumps.

'So that's what you call them,' she said.

'I'm going in to put the kettle on,' Mrs Gee continued, 'we'll have a break before we do the beds.' Gloria smiled, grateful to God that soon she would get Ellen away from the asylum. Over tea she took her chance. Mrs Gee was in a good mood and the time felt just right.

'Did I mention my sister works in a laundry?' she began.

'No, I don't think so.'

'Well, she's very good at it. She works at the asylum.'

'Oh?' Mrs Gee put down her teacup. 'And does she like it there?' Gloria averted her gaze.

'She hates it. It's not really the right place for a woman, but it was all she could get.' Mrs Gee sat up straight and patted her hair.

'I can't afford to take on any more help, I'm sorry.' Gloria's face fell. Slowly she collected the empty cups. 'I'll tell you what I could do,' her employer offered after a few minutes. 'She could come on Saturdays to do extra chores. That way I could say she was in my employment. And, if I was happy with her work I could write her a reference.'

'Oh, thank you Mrs Gee!' Gloria almost curtsied. 'That's very kind.'

'Bring her this Saturday, and if she's half as good as you I'll have no trouble writing her a reference.'

The residents were at work and the beds were changed in record time allowing a spare hour for Gloria to polish the hallway. The soup was cooked as well as rabbit pie for supper. There were five hutches in the garden and it would soon be time to put the buck with the does again. Mrs Gee reflected on this as she peeled potatoes at the kitchen table. Her thoughts jumped to Alec Silver. He might think he was too good for her, but she knew better than that. She hadn't struggled for years just to have him ruin her plans. She went to the sink and rinsed the vegetables off. Then she took off her apron and went up to her rooms on the next floor.

Gloria had gone home and the hall smelled fresh and clean. The floor creaked as she crossed it and downstairs Mademoiselle coughed. Even with Gloria's help her back ached. Closing the door she slipped off her shoes and flopped on the bed. She balanced on one side and her plan reignited. It felt like he was lying beside her, caressing her face with his fingers while ever so gently a kiss was planted on her lips. Pulling the eiderdown over it was as if his strong arms surrounded her.

From the bedside table a picture smiled. The husband she'd lost, who would never come back, just like her father. She opened a drawer and pulled out a small box. Looking inside as she'd done so many times before, her gaze settled on the contents. It was the last gift her father had given her, a most exciting thing he'd said, anybody could give to another. The note with it said: _The answer to your prayers_.

She was certain it promised the start of a thrilling new future.

Sunday was when Alec relaxed. After a lightly boiled egg and buttered toast he disappeared into the sitting room to read the paper. The chairs were a solid design, stuffed with horse hair and not comfortable enough to fall asleep in. Alec lit his pipe and enjoyed an article about Howard Hughes. It described how the American tycoon was afraid of germs and because of this lived as a recluse. Now there's a man who could do with shock therapy, Alec mused.

He was grateful most of the tenants were at church. All except for the Girard women, but they hardly ventured out any day. Alec's pipe had gone out so he cleaned out the tobacco, ran a pipe-cleaner through the shaft and re-filled it. The week ahead already looked to be busy with the León patient coming back from hospital and the servicemen arriving mid-week. Today he planned to relax and take stock of things.

His mind wandered over his evening after the pub, how although lost he'd eventually found his way to the address in Cockfosters. The house was dark and he detected no action within. When he knocked there was no reply. He knocked louder still, but a window opened and a neighbour shouted at him. Perhaps his friend was on holiday, or had moved away. Alec wasn't sure he'd even made it back from the war.

The door to the lounge opened and Mrs Gee appeared.

'Doctor Silver,' she said, waving him over, 'it's Chase Farm Hospital on the telephone. They say sorry to disturb you on a Sunday but it's a bit of an emergency. It seems one of your patients has escaped.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 9**

It was cold in the church, but Juliette knew all about the cold. Two winters at Ravensbruk with only her prison shift and a thin coat had taught her to switch off. As then she now imagined a roaring fire, like the one so long ago at her home in France. During training and snuggled in front of that same hearth she'd asked God to keep her safe. She could see her village now, nestled into the steep slopes above the river Loue, and the winding lanes that led to the vineyards. She even remembered the castle near tall farmhouses, and on the way to the mountain the impressive spire of Saint Th'eodule.

Now she looked at the church crucifix and wondered where his mercy had been during the conflict. Then guilt swept through her being, not having escaped death, but because now she was ironically a fugitive. She rubbed her hands to keep warm, reasoned there had been no choice in the matter. In order to prevent her incarceration at Moorvale the best chance was to take Christian sanctuary. Her legs brought her to this place, but she had no real idea where it was. The church was completely empty, even though she could hear tiny squeaks and thumps coming from the walls.

It hadn't been easy, sneaking out and down the fire escape while the nurse wrote her night report. Rose Lowe had been on her break in the staff canteen. It was Rose she felt dreadful about as she'd been so kind. She pulled her bag closer and patted the contents, treats Rose had brought her and some fruit and bread hidden from staff. Although difficult, escaping had been wonderful. Excitement and adrenaline had surged through her veins as on the alpine slopes.

Juliette had tiptoed to the door and before she knew it was out on the fire escape, the wind and drizzle in her hair. At the bottom of the steps and in the pitch dark she'd quickly dressed, folding up her nightdress and packing it away with the food. Then she was away, freedom speeding her flight through deserted streets and alleyways. Twice she managed to dodge policemen on the beat, and once set off a barking dog. Eventually, her legs crumbling, she'd found the door of the church. But that was hours ago and she'd since eaten some of the precious food. Thirst had led her to the holy water and sure it must have been a sin, made her clasp her hands in prayer.

Now she was very tired. She took the nightdress from her bag and using it as a pillow, laid herself on the narrow pew. Cradling her bad arm, she fell into an anxious sleep.

Her shoelace had loosened and Ellen knelt on the cold ground to tie it. Autumn was really here, the recent wind stripping golden leaves from the trees and sending them dancing and tumbling along the streets. Ellen sometimes chased them, often kicked her feet through large heaps of them, relishing the crunchiness of this game. But today there was no wind, only the damp and smog that permeated her clothing. It made her shiver and grow, Gloria told her, _goose pimples_. She ran to catch her sister, already half way up the avenue.

Softly, unexpected snowflakes fell by magic from the sky. They sprinkled over pavements and melted instantly on Ellen's hands. A convent nun crossed the road and nodded her amusement. Ellen was chasing silent flakes with her nose and a cloud of white haloed her frizzy hair where it stuck but hadn't yet dissolved.

'It is a miracle is it not?' the nun said to a grinning Ellen.

'Yes Sister, it's like manna from heaven.'

'Come on,' Gloria called, 'You'll make us late!'

Gentleman's Row was in darkness. Gloria entered by the basement door and took Ellen along the narrow hallway. A light was coming from the kitchen along with a faint glow from the range. Gloria introduced her sister to Mrs Gee and Ellen gave a little bob.

'Well come in and sit down girls, I've just made some tea. I expect you need to warm up a bit.'

'Thank you, Mrs Gee.' they chorused.

Gloria got on with the breakfasts while Ellen put on an old raincoat and wellingtons. She cleaned out the chickens and neatly dispatched one that ceased to lay eggs. For the remainder of the morning she plucked and prepared it for the oven, a job Mrs Gee would normally do herself. At seven thirty the landlady took the breakfasts to the dining room, a choice of porridge, toast, marmalade and tea. Doctor Silver was late down and stayed behind finishing his meal while the others went about their business. The Pink sisters planned to go shopping and on to the pictures. Mr Drayton was visiting a friend in Pinner and wouldn't be back until Sunday tea time.

Outside Gentleman's Row the last remnants of snowfall melted and a weak ray of sunshine lit the dining room. Alec reflected on the past week, how his female patient had gone missing. He hoped she might freeze in the cold. In any case he could do nothing until she was returned to Moorvale. Then he planned to finish her treatment whether Marsh liked it or not. In the meantime the servicemen had arrived and looked a sorry state all round. Thin as rakes, not unlike the León girl when she'd been admitted. He had begun the initial assessment but it was obvious they needed food and rest before anything else. They'd gone quite obediently to the men's ward and had already gained a little strength.

The door opened and Alec watched Mrs Gee as she cleared the empty dishes. He wondered if after all, he should invite her out. She seemed less common today. He noticed her plain blouse and skirt, the sensible shoes. Even her lipstick was a pale pink, unless she had put none on. He thought he might take her to The Mermaid.

'Do you ever go out?' Alec said, as she topped up his teacup.

Mrs Gee laughed. 'Of course doctor, I have to get the shopping in, don't I?'

'No, that's not quite what I meant, - I mean to say would you come out for a drink with me one evening?'

Mrs Gee put down the teapot and tidied her hair. 'Well now,' she started, 'I've got the dinners to see to as you know.'

'What about Sunday?' he persevered, 'As it's a cold tea would you have more time?' She looked thoughtful for a minute.

'I suppose so. We're you thinking of tomorrow night?'

'Yes, why not?' Alec said, not quite believing what he was doing.

'Then I can be ready for seven thirty, is that alright?'

Over the weekend the rain turned into snow that settled on walls and branches. Lena was lucky enough to own a pair of boots and dressed in stockings instead of socks. After breakfast her mother pulled a hat onto her head and stringed mittens through her sleeves. Lena, as on every weekday, walked along the road to school. But today she scrunched through virgin snow and rejoiced in the footsteps left in her wake. On the way she met Nancy and Horace who bombarded her with snowballs. One of them had a stone in it and drew blood as it tore her cheek.

'Ouch!' Lena cried as she tried to retaliate. Her snowball landed behind Horace's ear. He ran up to her and squashed ice into her face.

'So there, Crumbe!' he said, 'It's about time you took us somewhere special. We've been waiting since the holidays.' June appeared and joined in.

'Yes,' she said, 'we want to see something really different, we're bored with bomb sites.'

'It's alright, I've got something planned,' Lena gasped, 'I've found a place.'

'You'd better be telling the truth,' Nancy said, 'or you'll be sorry.'

Bleeding from her cheek, Lena was sent to the school receptionist. When asked what happened Lena said she'd slipped in the snow and hit her face against a wall.

'And Mrs Sullivan tells me you've had nits, is that why your hair's so short?' asked the secretary.

'Yes,' Lena lied.

Throughout the day more snow drifted from the sky, a very fine powdery snow that appeared to be more like mist. It was cold for outdoor play but at break pupils were ushered into the bleak asphalt square. Some of the girls tried making a snowman but the stuff was so dry it crumbled. Difficult to mould, a few boys managed to skillfully roll balls of it until they became large spheres. Under the teachers eye no fighting ensued, but Lena knew she would have to appease the three tormentors. Her mittens became sodden and she felt icy water drip into her boots, freezing her toes. She stamped the snow off at the doorstep and realised her feet were completely numb.

Some small hope inside told her the teacher would let them go early but this was not to be. The classroom was warm and during geography she dozed off. The sharp whack of Mrs Sullivan's cane came down extra hard on her desk.

'Wake up Lena Crumbe!' Mrs Sullivan snapped.

'Sorry Miss,' Lena slurred.

'Come out to the front of the class, you can tell us all the capital cities of Europe.'

All the children giggled and smirked as Lena made her way to the teacher's desk. She hesitated, but then using her fingers to count them off began with, 'London, Paris, Rome, Madrid,' until Mrs Sullivan made her stop.

'Very well, that will do. You can all get your exercise books out and draw a picture of the Union Jack. Remember, I want the white lines to be of the correct thickness and in the correct place on the flag or you will be marked down.'

Eventually the school bell rang and the class packed away their books and pencils. Outside in the now blustery conditions, Lena bumped into Horace, June and Nancy.

'Well?' said Horace. Lena lifted her chin and took a deep breath.

'Meet me at the bomb crater on Saturday at two o'clock,' she said, 'but where we're going must be kept secret.'

It was gone seven thirty but Alec doubted Mrs Gee had forgotten. He waited in the hallway on an antique chair and noted its discomfort. He liked punctuality to the minute but realised most could not maintain this discipline. Reluctantly he recalled missing several recent buses. Perhaps a similar relapse had caused him to ask Mrs Gee out in the first place. He hoped she would at least be wearing conservative attire. At seven thirty-six Mrs Gee appeared, just as Alec was re-checking his watch.

'Oh dear me, am I late?' she said, but paused at the hall mirror to put on a headscarf.

'Only by a few minutes,' Alec said, feeling the neck hairs bristle against his collar.

'Let's hope we don't miss our bus then,' she said cheerfully.

The snow had all but disappeared but gave way to bitter wind and gusty sleet that soaked through in seconds. As they ran for the bus Alec put his umbrella up against the icy rain. A sudden flurry sent this inside out and he used all his effort to prevent the wind taking it altogether. Mrs Gee laughed with relief as they took their seats and the conductor called: 'Hold tight!' Fleetingly Alec saw how attractive she must have been as a young woman. Unfortunately she'd used bright lipstick but was wearing an attractive grey suit and what appeared to be silk stockings. He also noticed something new in her manner, the hint of a memory that was his wife.

'I hope you like The Mermaid,' he said.

The bus stopped nearby the pub and they jumped off to avoid a deep puddle. Inside The Mermaid a roaring fire leapt at the grate and the landlord greeted Alec like a long lost friend.

'Come in here often, do you?' Mrs Gee asked, raising her eyebrows.

'Sometimes after work,' he said shiftily, adding, 'what will you have?'

'Oh, a port and lemon please.'

They sat at Alec's usual table and Mrs Gee immediately noticed pictures of the old workhouse on the walls.

'Oh dear gaud,' she said, causing Alec to wince, 'what a dreary old place it looks.'

'Don't laugh,' he said, 'that's the asylum where I work. It used to be the workhouse.'

'Well I'll be blowed.' Mrs Gee said.

'Of course it's a more modern building now, with up to date treatments and medicines.'

Mrs Gee sipped her drink delicately so not to disturb her lipstick. 'Of course,' she said, 'well, I'm sure you are a modern sort of a man, as well as a doctor I mean.' She paused and took a further sip from the glass.

'In what way do you mean?'

'Well, I mean with a modern outlook on things. I don't like to say too much,' she moved her eyes quickly around the pub, 'but I was surprised we won the war.'

Alec thought the port had gone to her head. He'd almost finished his pint and went to the bar for another. Returning he said, 'Go on with what you were saying.'

'My father believed some problems were caused by bad blood, that's all.'

'What sort of problems?' Alec wondered where this was leading. It was certainly the last thing he'd expected Mrs Gee to come out with. He suddenly felt rather vulnerable.

'Come on doctor,' she said, 'I've seen inside your wardrobe.'

'Seen what?' Alec's face heated as he thought of the red dress, but then he realised she must have seen the shirt. 'Ah,' he said.

'I've seen it and I know what it means.' There was a slight smugness to the wink she gave him. Alec took out his pipe and became thoughtful for a time. He felt a fool now, asking her out.

'I wanted to mention,' he finally said, moving closer to her, 'that is, I've some expected, but nonetheless bad news.' Mrs Gee's manner suddenly changed to one of concern.

'Oh no, whatever is it? Not your lady patient who ran away?'

'No, no, it's about my wife.' He puffed for a bit on his pipe. 'As you know she's been very ill for some time, and now,' he paused as Mrs Gee put her hand lightly on his arm, 'she has finally, and at least peacefully, passed away.'

'Oh Doctor Silver, I'm so very sorry to hear that. Whatever will you do?'

'I didn't want to say anything back at the house, you understand.'

'Yes of course, of course.' she took a good gulp of her drink.

'And, in answer to your question, I shall do what I've always done and just carry on. It's all I can do.'

Mrs Gee looked straight into Alec's eyes. 'You are such a brave man,' she said, 'I want you to know if there is anything, and I mean anything at all I can do to help, please do ask me, wont you?'

'I will Mrs Gee, yes, I will to be sure.'

St Joan of Arc church was cold and unforgiving as Juliette stretched and sat up on the pew. The full moon shone intermittently and cast eerie shadows through the dark windows. Juliette had been asleep for some time and now her arm ached. She was hungry and ate some of the stale bread in her bag. She thought no one would ever come, that she might have to move on and if that were the case she would most certainly need to steal more food and some warmer clothes.

Nevertheless she was free! Juliette tested her memory with the escape, how she had climbed down the fire-stairs, out into the world of the sane. Now the asylum felt far away, but in the church long shadows loomed. Outside the trees howled in time with the wind. Suddenly the camp fence reared and she put her hands up to block it out. She saw the guard take her little daughter while she uselessly screamed her name. Then there was darkness, and all was lost as she was dragged into a pit of misery, far more agonising than any torture they had administered. All was dark in front of her eyes, and for some time she saw no more.

Later she felt a small shove and tried to open swollen eyes. A faint glow revealed a church candle. Slowly, the solid image of a priest formed. He was tall with a kindly face.

'My dear child,' he said, 'I think you must have passed out. Here, try to drink.' Juliette drank the cool fluid and at once remembered her sin of taking water from the font. She struggled and blustered, 'Please, I need sanctuary Father.'

'You need some proper care, I can see that,' he said, looking at her asylum coat and rough shoes. 'I'm taking you to the nuns of St Joseph. The Convent will look after you.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 10**

After her Saturday chores Lena slipped out and headed to the bomb crater. The snow had melted but an icy wind cut into her. It was nearly two o'clock and even though she hurried her three friends were waiting. She ran right past, signalling them to follow before they could complain she was late.

'Where are we going?' Horace said as he caught up with her.

'You'll soon see.' Lena stopped short and insisted they went blindfold for the rest of the way. 'It's only fair.' she said, while they grumbled away.

When they reached the asylum wall she removed the blindfolds. To their amazement Lena opened a door set into the wall. 'We haven't got long,' she told them, 'we must be quick or we'll get locked in.'

Silently, with a growing degree of respect, the three followed her along the inner wall. They brushed through undergrowth and bushes as Lena led them in a different direction than before. To her relief, the stones of a graveyard were soon spotted, and a collective gasp went up as two inmates crossed the path. They appeared to be wearing pyjamas and had shaved heads. The children ran unseen to the laundry block, locked until it reopened on Monday. Quickly they skirted the building and took a dash to the graves.

'If we get seen they'll lock us up!' Lena warned as she hid behind a large memorial.

'This one says Silas Tench, _Gravedigger!_ ' June squeaked.

'It must be full of mad people!' Nancy added, while Horace swallowed and suddenly went pale.

'Look,' he hissed, pointing into some scrub. Two feet were clearly visible sticking out behind a tomb.

'Let's go!' He sped back to the wall. Once at the door Lena waited before she gave the all clear. Then they bundled out onto the street, none the worse for wear apart from a few scratches and a small tear in Nancy's skirt.

'Cor blimey,' Horace exclaimed, 'that was alright Crumbe, you did alright.'

To celebrate they shared out some liquorice Lena had brought. As they made their way home she realised she'd forgotten to blindfold them again, but it didn't really seem to matter.

'Do you think that man was dead?' Horace mused, his teeth blackened by the liquorice.

'Perhaps he was sleepy.' Lena said, making them laugh.

'It's your turn next,' June told Horace, 'let's meet again same time next Saturday.'

Nancy held out her hand and they all took turns placing their palms on top. Laced in this unbreakable pact Lena felt some acceptance and was happier than ever.

The flowers were plain but Gloria arranged them lovingly on her mother's grave. She'd picked some cream chrysanthemums from Plantation House and Ellen added roses that were sadly past their best. Mama would have liked them anyway, Gloria told Ellen as she tidied the weeds. They usually visited Sundays but today Gloria was compelled to come after work. Arriving at Barnet station she'd walked to the asylum and met Ellen. The bus took them through dingy streets, past the sweetshop. Just before they came to the Pentecostal hall they saw the church of St Joan of Arc. Very nearby was the Convent of St Joseph and here the girls noticed a commotion.

A group of nuns were on the front step. Their robes flapped and the wind lifted their wimples. Among the animated throng Gloria saw someone dressed in a shabby coat. This thin woman was being ushered into the hallway but not, it seemed, against her will. Gloria pulled at Ellen's arm.

'We mustn't stare,' she said.

'But I'm sure I've seen that lady,' Ellen said, adding, 'from the asylum.'

'Don't be telling more stories,' Gloria said, 'I'm not in the mood.'

The minister bid them good evening as they hurried to the graveyard. Afterwards they slipped into the church and took their usual places. On the hard kneelers they offered up prayers for their departed parents. Presently Ellen's tummy rumbled. Gloria suppressed a giggle as the noise echoed.

'Let's go home now,' she said, 'there's cold rice and chicken from last night.'

'I'm starving.' Ellen complained.

'We can take a shortcut,' Gloria told her, 'we'll be home in no time at all.'

The wind chilled further as the evening shadows lengthened. Ghostly smog hung at eye level like apparitions. Ellen looked to heaven, glimpsed the waning moon through parted cloud. They quickened their pace. The shortcut took them through dim alleyways, along unfamiliar roads of darkened housing. Strange, how the British appeared to live in no light. A sudden gust sent dust and dry leaves into their faces.

'Oh,' Ellen exclaimed, 'I've got something in my eye.' They stopped while Gloria lent her sister a handkerchief. 'How much further is it?' Ellen barked.

'Now don't be cross sister. I may have taken a wrong turn.'

'What! But you said you knew the way!'

'I _do_ know the way, but I've only done it once. We might have to ask someone.'

'But there's nobody about.' Ellen moaned. She poked at her eye with the hanky. Gloria took her arm as they rounded the next corner. She could just see the dim outline of some fencing.

'It's that crater!' She rushed to it, dragging the unwilling Ellen. 'I know where we are, we're only a couple of minutes from home.'

Forgetting her oath Gloria leant over the pit and peered into the damp, tarry depths. She felt sucked into its belly, like it needed to sate an inconsolable greed.

'Can you see anything down there?' she called out, raising her eyes from the pit. But Ellen was nowhere to be seen. Around her the smog thickened and wrapped Gloria in a curtain of grime.

The Lyons Corner House was so busy Alec had to wait for a table. Waitresses called Nippy's zigzagged through the restaurant carrying tea and cake laden trays. Alec shifted his weight impatiently. He'd arranged this meeting after a reply to his letter and didn't want a rushed conversation. Eventually a nippy sailed up and ushered him to a table. To save time Alec ordered tea and buns for two.

'Buns is off,' she said, 'there's Madeira slice or rock cakes.'

'Oh very well, two rock cakes,' Alec said, giving the nippy a glare.

'Very good sir,' She wrote on her order pad and whisked away.

Alec removed his overcoat, took out his pipe and filled it with fresh tobacco. He'd received the letter a week ago. The contents revealed his friend had indeed survived the war; that he'd returned to the same address and was lucky enough to find his house and family undamaged. Furthermore, he had rejoined his old firm in the city, _Bingley and Webber Solicitors_. But the most important part was his continued activity within the black shirt movement. He wrote how meetings had to be held in secret, but Alec understood that only too well. He puffed on his pipe and hardly noticed the slim figure before him.

'My dear fellow,' the man said, 'it's been quite a few years.'

'Edward!' Alec said, rising to greet him, 'You don't look a day older.' The nippy arrived with the tea things and set to work laying the table. When she left the two men resumed their conversation.

'From your letter I gather you'd like to re-kindle your membership.' Edward began. The shadow of a frown crept over his features.

'Very much so,' Alec said, picking up his teacup. 'It's because I've been thinking.' He paused for a moment. 'It started a few months ago when I popped into a pub. The landlord has a special interest in workhouses and reminded me of the poor and infirm. As with similar bad blood I read about years ago. The more he told me the more I felt compelled to look you up.' Edward swallowed a bite from his rock cake.

'I remember that talk you gave on _Social Darwinism_ in 1935. I found it most enlightening, but similar subjects are now of a,' he hesitated and looked aside, 'shall we say, even more delicate nature.'

Alec nodded. 'In view of what happened in Europe, yes, I can see that. I'm not a monster you know, just trying to adopt a better future for society.'

'I understand. Particularly as you're in contact with so many defects through your work, as you wrote?'

'I'm afraid so,' Alec agreed, 'sad cases all of them, but a complete burden on everybody else.' Alec rolled his eyes in a patronising fashion as they sipped their tea. Edward dabbed his mouth with a serviette.

'I ought to tell you we've got a new, rather ambitious cell leader. He brought his family here from Germany, just before the war. And I haven't asked about your wife, Ivy isn't it? Is she well?'

Alec hesitated before reaching for his pipe. 'I'm afraid she's no longer with us,' he said, 'she died of tuberculosis quite recently.' He re-lit the tobacco. 'Jinxed all round. During the war we were bombed out. Our house is still a heap of rubble.' Edward slowly shook his head.

'What rotten luck old man, I'm so sorry. Listen, if you need anything, do let me know won't you. I'm sorry I've got to get back to work, but you've got the details of the next meeting haven't you? Good, then I shall look forward to seeing you there.'

Under the night sky the bomb crater was draped in smog. Half way down, Pan occupied a slimy ledge while all manner of crawling things burrowed a new hole for him to sleep in. He sat on his haunches and held his heavy head in his hands. The Queen had outwitted him this time; she'd solved his riddle with hardly any effort at all. He would have to make sure the next test was the best he could devise; one that the cleverest of minds would fail. Perhaps he should bewitch her with his pipes; he knew that tactic well, although in the past had only trapped leprechauns with his tunes.

He scratched at his long ears and sighed. No, it wouldn't be fitting to entrap her that way. This was to be a battle of wits. He would show her who was quicker, smarter and who should be in charge of the Elemental world. He was tired of being underground, weary of the constant squabbles between the creatures he ruled. His pipes were slung across his shoulders and now he pulled them to his lips. They'd filled with mist and made no song. He tried to conjure a new riddle. It would have to be the best riddle ever to save further humiliation.

But now he was distracted as beetles and cockroaches, ants and wasps cleared out his new resting place and lined it with dried leaves. Further down the pit snails and slugs slithered upwards reaching for the thin vegetation they were greedy for. Woodlice marched in droves over decaying roots while worms came from dark, unseen places. Pan was fed up with this second rate residence and much preferred the fairies abode. There he might reside over both kingdoms while being closer to the imps and pixies. They often needed a strict hand.

If these plans worked out he would fix a pipe-spell on the human child. That spell might begin a venture into the world of people, one he knew little about but had fed off since the beginning of time.

But first things first, he determined. The next step was to defeat Mab with a fresh riddle, to raise the stakes until her realm was dominated.

In the thickening smog Gloria called out but no answer came. Now she could see even less and had to hold the rickety fence to feel her way. Anxiety gripped her. She was convinced the gaping void had taken Ellen as prey.

'Ellen!' she called desperately, 'where are you?' She hauled herself further along the fence. 'Sissy! Talk to me!' Gloria shouted in blind panic as tears stabbed her eyes. An eerie light shone through the gloom and a rough hand grasped her shoulder. She turned a wild and fearful face towards it.

'Now now, what's all this?' Slowly, Gloria made out the figure of a policeman.

'Oh please help me sir,' Gloria pleaded, 'I've lost my sister.'

'I see,' he said, 'well then, we'd better start looking for her, hadn't we?'

With the torch he swept out from the crater and over to the opposite side of the street. There, lying below a thick hedge was a crumpled Ellen. He called over for Gloria to join him.

'Has she been unwell?' he asked.

'No sir,' Gloria said, 'but she was very hungry.'

He checked her breathing. 'I reckon she just passed out. Nothing to worry about unnecessarily young lady,' and he patted Ellen's cheek while Gloria called her name. Very soon Ellen opened her eyes, and although drowsy was none the worse for wear.

'Why did you go off like that?' Gloria chided. Ellen's stomach had started to rumble again, and the policeman said they ought to get home.

'Will you be alright?' he said.

'Oh yes, and thank you for finding her sir,' Gloria said. 'Come on Ellen, it's not far now.' Ellen climbed awkwardly to her feet and they continued, arm in arm.

'Why didn't you stay with me back there?' Gloria said.

'Well,' Ellen said slowly, 'I didn't like to say in front of the policeman, but I saw something strange down that hole.'

'What sort of thing?'

'I don't know,' Ellen said, 'It was like a mermaid.'

'Are you messing with me again? Don't you mess with me girl; I'm too worn out to take it.'

'I ain't messing, I promise. It was like a body I tell you, but with a mermaid's tail. I got spooked and ran to the pavement.' She rubbed her temple. 'In the rush I tripped, and must've knocked myself out.'

'And just how could you see all that when I saw nothing, huh?' Gloria was beginning to get annoyed. 'Like when you said you saw the little people near the grave of Silas what's-his-name?'

****~~~****

**Chapter 11**

Marcia Crumbe made an early lunch. Lena remained hungry after the thin soup and sandwiches but said nothing, hoping there would be cake at Mademoiselle's. It was Saturday, the day she was supposed to meet her friends and it was Horace's turn to find somewhere new to go. Nancy told Lena Nobby Clarke had a burst appendix, that at least they wouldn't have to worry about him for a while. To Lena's surprise, June suggested they leave their adventure for a different week. Her daughter's more confident demeanour had not escaped her mother.

'I don't know what you're smirking about,' Mrs Crumbe said to Lena, 'It's only a visit to Mademoiselle, not up to going out with your precious friends.'

Lena's face dropped and she looked at her empty plate. Her father was out meeting a supplier, and the shop was closed for the afternoon. People had tried the door several times and Lena thought of their disappointment. Mrs Crumbe thrust a tea-towel at her.

'Help me wipe up or we'll be late.' she snapped. Lena wanted to ask her mother about Ellinor, about how she had got that disease over her face and why she still lived with her mother.

Instead she said, 'Shall we take some sweets for Ellinor and Mademoiselle?'

'I suppose we shall have to. I'll find some while you get your coat on. And be quick, I haven't got all day to wait around.'

Lena skipped along the road to Barnet station. It was a milder day, but the west wind carried the same chill as it skimmed up fallen leaves and dashed them back to the ground. Lena chased a leaf that went twirling upward in impossible spirals until her mother thundered at her to get along. Today she didn't really care. Horace, June and Nancy liked her. They liked her enough to wait another week until she was free to join them. She raced ahead at the station and received a further scolding for going too near the platform edge.

'Serve you right if you fell under a train,' her mother said, 'stand still and behave or you'll feel the back of my hand.'

Lena pushed her hands into her pockets. To her delight she found a paper fairie in one of them and gave out a little squeak of joy.

'Stop fidgeting!' Mrs Crumbe hissed, walloping Lena across the ear.

'Oww!' Lena cried. She held on to her ear and gripped at the short hair under her hat.

'If you don't behave I swear I'll leave you with Ellinor!' her mother raged.

Lena became silent and stood still. The words burned into her stinging ear but her body was cold to the bone. Unable to cry, Lena found the fairie once more. Holding it a warm sensation travelled from her fingers up her arm, eventually warming the whole of her body.

The kitchen at Gentleman's Row was full of activity. Mrs Gee had made good use of Gloria and Ellen by getting them to pickle onions, beetroot and red cabbage. While they were busy she bottled some pears and made plum chutney.

'I'll be well ahead for Christmas,' she said, 'next Saturday we'll get the puddings done.'

'We've never made Christmas pudding,' Ellen piped up, ignoring Gloria's hard stare.

'Don't worry,' Mrs Gee said, 'I'll show you what to do.' When they finished Gloria put the kettle on and they sat eating bread and margarine. 'There's some rabbit pie in the meat safe,' Mrs Gee said. She divided it up and the three women tucked in. When the girls left she lit a cigarette and kicked off her shoes. Satisfied with the help they provided the landlady hatched new plans for her future.

Her evening with Alec Silver had not gone quite as she'd intended. But with any luck he might, in time, regret taking her out just to inform her of his wife's death. She took a long drag on the cigarette, tipped her head back and blew the smoke up as far as she could. Funny how he hadn't mentioned a funeral, although perhaps he'd gone off in secret to pay his last respects. But she'd checked the death notices, and found nothing mentioned for Mrs Ivy Silver.

What she _had_ found was the letter Alec had tried to hide, from someone called Edward Fade. Mrs Gee had come across it quite accidently while cleaning his cupboards. Her mind flicked back to its contents. So, he intended taking up with the black-shirts. The letter suggested it was a top priority, while she had hoped to be his one distraction.

But none of it really mattered. She closed her eyes and tipped her head imagining his kiss. He was the man for her, even if he didn't know it yet, and those same crimson lips twisted into a cunning smile.

It was late afternoon before Alec finally reviewed the new patients. They had been at the asylum for two weeks, and on Marsh's orders in all that time only taken gentle exercise. The tallest, Wilbur Duke had made friends with the grounds-man. Thin, bearded Daniel Kingdom was less at home and was discovered on several occasions trying to leave. The third serviceman was Godfrey Pringle, he'd gone downhill since admission and didn't like to leave his bed.

Alec was on Hummingbird writing his notes when Rose Lowe approached him. He could sense her hovering at the office door but didn't look up. Rose gave a small cough, interrupting him.

'Doctor Silver,' she said, 'is there any news about Juliette León?' Alec finished writing his account.

'No news whatsoever.'

'That's a shame. I was hoping-'

'It might be a good thing she's no longer with us,' Alec said, 'Now we have an empty bed for a more deserving case.'

'I'm sure you don't mean that doctor,' Rose protested, 'surely she can't be that far away.'

'Perhaps you would like to find her then?' Alec's voice was laced with sarcasm. He was sick of people fretting over the woman, bringing up her disappearance as if it were his fault. Rose returned to work but remained downcast for the rest of her shift.

The servicemen were all on Lorikeet Ward in the male block. Alec decided after his assessments to write up his findings over a pint. Working slightly later he wouldn't feel bad about leaving early next day for his meeting with the Movement. He also made a mental note to tell Mrs Gee he would be absent for supper. He'd been rather clever where she was concerned, he thought. Making no promise either way a night out was to be repeated, while sure of the fact if he did ask her again, she would probably jump at the chance.

He opened the door to Lorikeet Ward and made a bee line for the three men. They were seated at the dining table and being teatime, were just about to eat.

'Carry on with your meal please,' he said, sitting down beside Wilbur Duke. 'I'm just catching up with how you are getting on.' The men looked up but didn't reply, choosing to finish their soup before starting on very thin slices of cheese on toast. Undeterred, Alec continued, 'I feel you could all benefit from some manual labour, big strong chaps like yourselves. I've had a word with Cecil and he's sorting out some odd jobs.' The men continued eating but made no eye contact. 'Well, that's settled then. You'll begin work tomorrow for a week when I will assess you again for possible further treatment.' Just as Alec got up Daniel stopped eating.

'I'd rather go home,' he said.

'I'm sure you would,' Alec replied in a superior tone, 'but for now you are under my care and charge. I will review you all in one week.'

The men watched as he left the ward. They exchanged knowing glances and resumed their meal.

Sister Mary Virginia walked the connecting corridor from the refectory to the nuns' cells. At the very end of this passage was where her patient lay. An act of God had delivered her, and it was with her servitude that as a nun she woke every day to do his will. She knocked lightly on the cell door before entering with a tray of food. She placed it on the plain bedside locker. As the patient stirred Sister Virginia's face broke into a serene smile. She placed her hands across her heart.

'Some nourishment,' the nun said, 'how are you feeling?'

'A little better every day, thanks to your kindness,' Juliette said, sitting up and taking a sip of water.

'Our fare is plain but hearty,' the sister said. 'Let us say grace together before I leave for vespers.'

'Father, for what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly grateful, Amen.' the two women said.

'Before you go sister,' Juliette said, 'you will allow me to stay won't you? After such a long time I feel so safe and happy, I'm not sure I could cope with being sent away just yet.'

'Now now,' the sister soothed, 'Mother Superior is happy for you to be here until you are recovered. But you will need to visit the hospital to have that plaster taken off.'

Juliette nodded, and sat on the side of the bed. 'I know,' she said softly. Since arriving at St Joseph's she'd received such care and attention her arm hadn't been a problem. But soon the plaster would have to come off. The thought of going into the open filled her with dread. Here, in this meagre but loving world was all she needed; shelter, food, warmth and friendship. The only thing missing was her Anna.

What history she could remember had been shared with the Mother Superior and some of the older, wiser nuns. Juliette told them about her baby while they looked on sadly and prayed. But Mother Lawrence took down some notes, writing in a heavy journal with her aged and spotted hands. Father Sweeny stood to one side and listened, but she hadn't seen him since.

During her time in the cell she'd also tried to pray but could find no remedy to that which troubled her most, the loss of her own dear heart. So empty had she become it seemed the answer for the will to live might be a nun's vocation. She reached for the supper tray and with tears in her eyes began to eat the tasteless, plain food.

The Mermaid was busier than usual. Alec waited patiently at the bar before ordering a beer. The landlord waved Alec to a corner table. He sat beside him for a moment and patted his nose with his forefinger.

'Don't look now Guv,' he said, 'there's some medical bods over there. They've been to some meeting at Chase Farm, I think.'

Alec glanced over to the opposite side of the room. At a larger table he recognised Jeremy Marsh and Gordon Warren engrossed in jovial conversation.

'Thank you Maurice,' Alec said, 'I'll see if I can join them.'

'Right you are Guv.' The landlord returned to the bar. Jeremy Marsh was getting up to leave as Alec approached.

'Oh, hello Silver,' he said, 'I didn't realise you were in here.' His words were slightly slurred. 'Last minute meeting of Mental Health Consultants,' he explained. 'You know Dr Warren of course.'

'Yes,' Alec said, shaking Warren's hand, 'hello Bunny.'

'This is Simon Fenn, Alec.' Warren said.

'Pleased to meet you,' Alec said as he sat down.

Doctor Fenn drained his glass and stood up. 'I was just leaving too, sorry to be a bore, train goes at ten to the hour.' Warren smiled at Alec. 'Looks like it's just us two,' he said. A blast of freezing air entered the pub as Marsh and Fenn exited.

'It's been a long time, we've quite a bit to catch up with,' Alec said cheerfully adding, 'Was it a good meeting?'

'Oh you know, old chap,' Warren waved his arm vaguely before taking out a cigarette. Alec found his pipe and tobacco and they both lit up adding more smoke to the fug filled room. The men recounted the last few years before Alec ordered fresh drinks. His friend had polished off several whiskies and was fast becoming incoherent.

'As a matter of fact, Bunny, there is something I would like your opinion about.' Warren looked up blearily from his glass.

'Anything old chap.' he said.

'It's about those servicemen you sent us.' He kept his eyes fixed on Warren's face as his friend blew out a line of smoke. Warren put a finger to his lips.

'Shhh,' he hissed, 'Top Secret, old man.' He giggled and tried to suppress a hiccup.

'Yes, I know,' Alec said, 'but I need the details so I don't make the wrong decision, treatment wise, I mean.' Warren was starting to drift off, his eyes glazed over and closed. Alec gave him a shove.

'What's up?'

'The servicemen,' Alec resumed, 'I know they were captured but what happened before that?'

'Just you go easy on them, my old comrade,' his friend slurred.

'Why?'

'Because they're a bunch of bloody hero's, that's why.' Warren managed, before passing right out on the table top.

Through the thickening dusk, Lena tried to see Ellinor's scabbed face. She was sat on the usual hard chair and had listened to her mother and Mademoiselle's gossip all afternoon. This visit she'd not been allowed to go outside and climb the apple trees, as her mother said she was in disgrace.

'Showed me up something awful on the train she did,' Mrs Crumbe complained to Mademoiselle, while the old woman clicked her loose teeth. Ellinor arranged a purple shawl around her shoulders.

'It's becoming colder,' Mademoiselle said, 'put more coal on the fire, Ellinor.'

Mademoiselle never said please or thank you, much the same as Lena's own mother. Whenever they visited Ellinor was mostly hidden, but today she served the tea and now she moved rather gracefully to the fireplace. Lena couldn't see her features as she tipped the coal scuttle and shovelled more fuel onto the grate. Then a few sparks flew up and lighted her poor face. It was raw and reddened from the disease. Lena gave a little gasp before looking away. Ellinor took the tea tray out and while Mademoiselle and her mother resumed conversation she slipped to the kitchen to help.

Without looking, Ellinor spoke. 'What would you like more than anything?' She asked softly so the others wouldn't hear.

'Do you believe in fairies?' Lena said after a while.

'Of course,' Ellinor replied without hesitation, 'do you?'

'I want to go and live with the fairies, but I would need money and things to live.'

Ellinor thought for a moment. 'Why don't you sell some sweets at school? You could open a tuck shop.'

'The teachers wouldn't let me,' Lena said, 'they hate me.'

Ellinor was silent for a while, and Lena thought she wouldn't speak again. Finally she said, 'You won't know if you don't ask.' She turned her head towards Lena and pulled her face into what must have been a very painful smile.

'You're lovely when you smile,' Lena said, and Ellinor's eyes filled up. Lena took her hand and pressed her paper fairie into it. 'This one is for you,' she said, while teardrops fell onto the folded figure, 'because she can make you beautiful again.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 12**

In the cold autumn trees became bare while their branches were laced with early frost. Cobwebs glistened in weak morning sun and birds feasted on the swollen berries of holly and rose. Majestically, Mab stretched her translucent wings and tapped her wand against the conker throne. Instantly her entourage assembled and bowed before her to pay their respects.

'Up, up!' she commanded, 'Come, we have work to do.'

'What do you wish of us my Queen?' asked head fairie Sapphire.

'I need the strongest fliers to go and visit Lord Pan and his kingdom.' Sapphire ushered those she thought suitable to the front of the crowd.

'Your majesty,' she said curtseying. Mab rose and inspected the fine specimens before her. All were strong and brave, and she knew them by name.

'Sapphire,' she said, 'these are wise choices. I now command these four sentinels, Lotus, Birch, Violet and Amber to fly to Pan's abode and to listen to his conversations - without being detected.'

'You mean for them to spy?' Sapphire was aghast.

'I prefer to call it acquiring necessary information,' Mab said, 'now off you go, and remember my wishes.'

The four curtsied low before flying off together, and the entire throng watched as overhead they formed a diamond against the frozen, grey sky.

Daniel Kingdom looked up at the gathering clouds. It had taken some time to convince Godfrey he must accompany them into the grounds and now it seemed it was about to rain. Cecil had left them in the graveyard, their mornings work to tidy and weed the resting places. The area was in poor repair, with some of the tombstones broken and worn. Not really surprising, Cecil had said, considering how old some of them were. It was the wrong time of year for such work, the ground being cold and damp, the grass cloying under their boots. But Cecil was not bothered about such details. He liked the graveyard and although unpaid, he was in charge of all outside work.

They had no gloves and only the crudest of tools but even so had made good progress in the short time since breakfast. Wilbur proved best at removing ivy from the stones, while Godfrey seemed happiest weeding. This left Daniel the job of scything the overgrown grass from between the graves. As he cleared the old stones some names became visible. Other monuments were so old they crumbled as he worked, causing bits of them to fall and land at his feet.

The work stirred memories of one he never wished to forget. Like Godfrey and Wilbur he was unmarried, but he'd tasted real love. She'd been a friend and had seen him succeed as well as fall. He tried to remember her face but could only manage to conjure her beautiful eyes. It was incredible that of all men, she'd chosen him. Daniel shook these thoughts away and continued with the work.

By midday heavy rain forced them to stop. Cecil turned up to collect the tools and give them the message lunch was served. The men seemed to enjoy the stew and dumplings, and even Daniel ate most of his share. It was a small task they'd been given but it brought great reward. That morning a sense of purpose had resumed between them. Like a real team they discussed where they would start the next job, and how they could improve their skills.

'Did you see that large grave, the one with Silas Tench on it?' Wilbur said.

'It seemed more cared for than the others, but the grass was squashed, like an animal slept there.' Daniel said.

'Cecil.' Another patient at the table piped.

'What about him?' Godfrey returned.

'He sleeps, Cecil sleeps, in the graveyard.' The patient went back to eating his meal.

Another man put down his spoon. 'He waits,' he said.

'He waits and then he falls asleep,' the first man replied, and finding this funny, began to laugh. He had a hiccoughed laugh that rasped and echoed through the ward. The male nurse walked up to the table and whacked a stick onto its surface. Everyone jumped except Daniel. He closed his hands into fists under the table.

'Hurry up and finish your food.' the nurse thundered. Godfrey shielded his face and then held his ears as his whole body began to shake. His comrades took him back to his bed.

'This place reminds me of the camp,' said Wilbur as they tried to make Godfrey comfortable.

Daniel shot him a grim smile. 'There's only one difference Will,' he said, 'it was impossible to break out of there.'

The walls of the cell were bare except for a single crucifix. A small table held a bible and candlestick. The bed was narrow and hard and set against the opposite wall. Juliette had counted the stones on the floor and the wooden roof beams a hundred times. There was no chair, so she sat on the side of the bed. Perhaps she was expected to spend her time kneeled, in prayer. The nuns were at compline, where they prayed and sang mournfully but somehow beautifully as well. Juliette's arm itched under the plaster and she was glad there were only a few days left before the thing was removed. What a joyful relief that would bring, after which she might actually feel able to praise God in all his wisdom.

For now, she had to be grateful the nuns had kept her safe. If only she could remember her life before her committal to Moorvale. Trying was of no use, her only memories being of Anna taken from her arms and of scudding through the various snow drifts with the men, being shot at and then, but there _was_ something else. Her thoughts darted to Sister Virginia. Her face, it reminded her of, well of someone in the camp. She strained to remember who it could have been, but nothing came. Of course the sister was older and she wore a wimple thus hiding her hair but even so..,

She got up and paced the tiny room, two steps to the end of the bed, one step forward, until some minutes passed. That was it! Suddenly she was back at the camp at the end of her stinking bunk, and there was the same face. It was the _Blokova_ , the forewoman of Juliette's block. She had those same impenetrable eyes, yet in the sister's case not without compassion. Yes, she had spoken with a German accent, and suddenly Juliette could hear her voice shouting the roll call. Then she sank to her knees as her stomach folded. It was HER! She who had taken her baby Anna! Now the memory was building so fast she could barely keep up with it. What had been her name, if only she could remember it! Tears sprang from her eyes as she flung open the cell door and ran as fast as she could to the Mother Superior's office.

The grey day did nothing for Alec's mood but at least tonight was his meeting. At the basin in his room he shaved the evening shadow from his face. He took the black shirt and slipped it on. The inky fabric felt good over his torso. The mirror was mottled and cracked, but Alec saw a hero reflected in the glass. He buttoned the shirt and pulled on a long raincoat to hide it from view. Soon, he told himself, he would be able to wear it again in public and with no shame. Leaving, he remembered his umbrella, doubling back to his room in time to dodge Mrs Gee coming up the stairs.

He caught an early bus to Enfield. The meeting was to take place not at Edward Fade's house, but a much larger residence on the outskirts of Friary Park. He paid the conductor his fare, and when no one was looking, took the address out from his pocket. He wondered if he should memorise and destroy the evidence, but then chastised himself. No need for melodrama. It was a secret meeting after all, no one was likely to suspect what went on behind closed doors. Alec could feel the old excitement building in his belly, the fire that had been extinguished so soon after meeting Ivy.

She'd been unaware of such activities. But on occasions when he spoke even mildly about his beliefs she had at once shown disapproval. 'That's why we're fighting this war Alec,' she would say, 'now that's enough of that sort of talk, don't you think?' Alec clenched the bus ticket remembering her condemnation. His hands were moist and clammy. What did she know anyway? She was just a stupid woman he thought, before he remembered she was also dead.

He was near to his stop and prepared to leave. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and hopped off the bus as it slowed. Behind him a short, stocky man alighted. He followed Alec along the road, into the next avenue. After some fifty yards, he caught up with Alec on the steps to an impressive front door.

At Gentleman's Row Mrs Gee finished the clearing up early and retired to her sitting room. She turned on the wireless, put her feet up and lit a cigarette. She'd missed Alec Silver tonight but she knew where he was. Not the address, but that he'd gone off to one of those illegal meetings. She might be a woman but she wasn't daft. A vicious smile spread over her face as she inhaled a long, satisfied drag on the cigarette. He would take her out again; she felt it in her bones. She would tell him where she wanted to go and he would take her. She wanted to buy a new dress pattern and some racy material especially for the occasion. Ellinor had recently given her a nice hat and she had more than enough coupons to afford a quality fabric. She could even afford new shoes, and had seen a perfect pair in the Co-op.

Mrs Gee put her cigarette down and picked up the paper. She had formed a habit of reading through the death notices, but still nothing had appeared for Ivy Silver. She flicked through the pages in a bored fashion until a headline took her attention. _Second patient goes missing from Moorvale Asylum,_ the paper said. She sat up and read the article.

Following the disappearance of female patient Miss Juliette León a second woman is thought to have absconded from Moorvale Asylum. Superintendent Jeremy Marsh has given the following statement: "We are doing everything we can to apprehend these patients so they can be brought back to Moorvale. While we do not consider them to be dangerous to the public, it is in their best interests they should continue their treatment programmes."

Mrs Gee closed the paper and put it to one side. Patients going missing and women patients at that, she breathed. Could it have anything to do with Doctor Silver? Somehow she doubted it, but all the same it might prove a good subject to start a conversation. After that she could push the topic around to going out somewhere again. She hadn't even had a kiss from him. She lay back on the settee anticipating his lips and wiggled her feet to Glen Miller. Inhaling the last of her cigarette, she stubbed it out with obvious relish.

He would take her out dancing, she said out loud, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

The journey to school was easier now Nobby Clarke was laid up. Lena no longer watched for gang members but even so almost ran, hiding her scarf and mittens in case they were grabbed. Outside the form room she hung her coat on the usual peg. At her desk early she opened the lid and took out her work book and pencil. First to arrive, she was able to speak with Mrs Sullivan without being overheard.

'Please Miss,' Lena began.

'Yes, what is it girl?' Mrs Sullivan said.

'Well, you know my father runs a sweet shop.'

'Yes, I think we all know that,' Mrs Sullivan sneered.

'It's just that he thought you might like a tuck shop in the school.' Lena looked at her desk lid, expecting the cane to come crashing down any second.

'Then why didn't he mention it himself, instead of getting you to ask?'

'I, I don't know,' Lena mumbled, her hands trembling now at the threat of the cane.

'You will have to see the headmaster. It will be his decision. Go and wait outside his door.'

Lena didn't know what to say. 'Thank you miss,' she managed.

With a growing sense of apprehension Lena stood outside the head's door. The secretary said to wait while a punishment was administered. Lena heard the whacks and tightly knotted her fingers. She counted a dozen blows and could hear the boy's sobs after the first five. He emerged a little while later with a pink, swollen face. Lena knew he was from the year above hers but didn't know his name. He pushed past her rubbing his backside before the secretary went in for a few moments. Eventually Mr Lougher appeared. He gestured for Lena to enter his office.

'It's Lena Crumbe isn't it?' he said, 'Well, why are you here?'

'Please Sir,' Lena began in a small voice, 'can I start a Tuck Shop in the school? I can bring some sweets to sell.'

'A strange request,' the headmaster said, 'is this your father's idea?'

'Well, it's an idea I think my father would like.'

'You mean to tell me he knows nothing about it?' Mr Lougher thundered.

'Not exactly, but,'

'That's quite enough! I shall telephone your father immediately. If you've suggested this without his approval I'll leave your reprimand to him. Now get back to your class, I don't wish to have any more of my time wasted.'

Lena hung her head and quietly closed the door behind her. She walked along the corridor back to class; dread filling her stomach and tears stinging her eyes with every step. She sat at her desk and ignored by everybody spent the entire day in a saddened haze.

When the home bell rang Lena was last to leave. Her friends long gone, she traipsed home alone. A light drizzle made everything damp and her short hair frizzed at the ends. As she passed the greengrocers an old woman dropped a bag of apples, spilling them onto the pavement and into the gutter. Lena paused to help and the lady said she was a 'Good girl'. She hobbled off, a stick steadying her gait. Lena hoped her father would think the same, but knew better than to trust to it.

Going the long way home she took a detour past the bomb hole. Part of the flimsy fence surrounding it had fallen over and was now replaced with tape. This allowed her to stand even closer to the edge. She scrunched her eyes up but couldn't see much. It was then she was transported to a place of darkness. She'd tried many times to recall her earliest memory, but the result always brought sheer dread. In the back of her story book she'd written of her third birthday, and before that of playing with her favourite hat.

But way back there lay nothing but a loathsome fear, a hole as big as the bomb crater filled with sadness, loss and despair. She stepped back from the edge of the vault and turned for home. Whatever was waiting for her, she'd seen it all before. She hurried away, now prepared to face whatever lay ahead.

And as the darkness enveloped the bomb hole, in silence it consumed its prey.

****~~~****

**Chapter 13**

It was late November and the trees were completely bare, dark branches silhouetted like lacework against the cold bright sky. Frosts remained past midday, and the temperature only rose with the appearance of the weak autumn sun. In the asylum grounds, all was still. Silence pervaded as birds were no longer seen and fairies withdrew into knotholes and the crevices of gnarled trunks. Squirrels and rabbits remained hidden, only venturing out when hunger got the better of them. Even the hardy robin was only spotted occasionally flitting between tombstones. Cecil no longer slept in the graveyard by Silas's grave, but now lived full time in the outhouse. He was in charge of the grounds, and found work for the servicemen to do every day.

The three had been clearing large areas of ivy and brambles, mainly around the perimeter of the cemetery, but for the past few days they'd worked in the courtyard. Here the ground was barren and even in summer the birds seemed to avoid it. The earth produced no vegetation leaving a wide, rough circle of compacted soil and silt. Wilbur had asked the others not to wander off as the place gave him the creeps.

'I don't like it,' he said to Godfrey, while his face creased into a worried frown.

Godfrey tried to dig but had little strength. Daniel was using a pickaxe to break up the years of hardened soil while the others used their hands to pick up large clumps of earth. Cecil took these away in a wooden barrow that looked as if it had seen better days.

'Superintendent Marsh wants it paved over,' said Cecil, 'you only need go down a few feet.' The sizable section was five yards in diameter and at its boundary some sparse lawn remained frosted. 'It breaks up quite easily, the cold makes it brittle.' Cecil told the men. 'Have a break now, go inside and warm up.' As they approached the building they bumped into Alec Silver, on his way out.

'How are you getting along?' he said, a smirk sliding from his lips, 'I hope the work isn't too hard.' He could see steam rising from the men's heads as they removed their caps.

'We're just having a tea break.' Wilbur said. Alec pulled up his coat collar.

'Very good,' he said, 'I'll see you all on Monday for your next assessment.'

The selection at the Co-operative store was limited, but Mrs Gee finally decided upon a medium weight crepe. With Ellen trailing behind carrying the packages the landlady swept over to the lingerie section while the assistant folded and wrapped her fabric.

'These will do nicely, don't you think Ellen?' Mrs Gee said, pulling her over to some cami-knickers.

'Oh, yes.' Ellen grinned to emphasise her approval. The assistant wrapped up the garment. Just then a money capsule whizzed overhead. It made Ellen flinch.

'Now shoes,' Mrs Gee continued, 'and I might just have enough coupons for a bag, oh Ellen!' Ellen had let a package slip and it ripped slightly as it fell. Mrs Gee helped to retrieve it.

'Try not to show everyone what I bought in the underwear department,' she hissed.

'Sorry Missus Gee,' Ellen said, 'the rockets gave me a start.'

'Nonsense girl, pull yourself together and don't drop anything else.'

The two women ascended the stairs to the shoe department as money capsules continued to zoom above. High up in a gallery women could be seen opening them and taking out the cash. Ellen put the parcels down by a chair and admired each shoe style her employer tried.

'Really Ellen, how am I to decide when you tell me everything is so nice?' Mrs Gee scolded. 'Never mind, I'll take these.'

The assistant told her she'd made the perfect choice. The shoes were wrapped in tissue paper and replaced in the box. With a look of mild disgust she passed the package to Ellen. Mrs Gee ignored these second looks at her companion. But Ellen noticed every glare and upturned nose as she followed her employer into the dampened street.

They arrived at Gentleman's Row to find Gloria had not only finished the chores, but was preparing a light lunch of tinned sardines on toast. Mrs Gee took the shopping to her rooms and returned to the kitchen. After lunch Ellen was sent to check the hens and rabbits while Gloria ironed sheets and pillowcases. Mrs Gee was surprised how well Gloria pressed the linen considering how slim she was, but her work was faultless, the sheets smoother than she'd ever done them herself and with no sign of creases.

Once she'd made her new dress she would get Gloria to press it. In her rooms that afternoon she unraveled the fabric and laid it flat on the floor. Bit by bit she pinned on the pattern pieces and cut them out. Long after Ellen and Gloria left she was still working at her sewing machine, turning the handle slowly and carefully, feeding the fabric under the needle as if each stitch would be noticed and admired by Alec Silver.

In her bedroom, Lena sorted through her toys. It was difficult deciding who to take but she knew there would be room for little in the haversack. She was in disgrace, banished to her room every hour not at school. All because of the tuck shop idea. She couldn't explain it was actually Ellinor's plan, that she needed money to leave home.

'Don't you realise sweets are still rationed?' her father had shouted, 'What else have you told the teachers?'

'What children need is discipline,' Mrs Crumbe had added, 'we've been far too lax. You'll get nothing for your birthday this year.'

Lena still winced when she moved her legs. Her father had lashed a stick across her shins. Her cries seemed to inflame him and he didn't stop until blood appeared. Mrs Crumbe then bound her limbs and kept her off school for a week.

'Why did he do it?' Lena implored her mother, 'Why do you hate me?' Her tears streamed, making her glasses slide down her nose.

'It's not a question of hating anyone,' Mrs Crumbe snapped, 'It's for your own good, you're lucky you are young enough to get over it. Now stop snivelling.'

After a few days her legs began to heal, and her wool stockings hid the welts that itched as they mended. When able to walk without pain she would make her escape. She rooted deeper into the toy box and to her delight found her old knitted hat. She'd always possessed it and knew it would have to go with her, even though it was far too small for her now. Tomorrow after school she would walk as far as the bomb crater to test her legs.

She could hear Mrs Scattergood's voice downstairs in the parlour. She complained the milkman was late because his horse skidded on the frost. 'I ask you,' she said, her thick voice drifting up through the floorboards, 'what's more important, his customers or his old nag?' Lena heard laughter and the clunk of the kettle going on the hob. She heard the shop bell ring, and resolved that before long this house would be far behind her.

By the afternoon the servicemen had cleared the area to a depth of two feet. Godfrey was exhausted and retired to the ward, but the others continued to remove old roots and stones. Their hands and feet were numb in the dampened chill. Daniel stood up and leant on his pickaxe. He still appeared emaciated and found eating difficult, but at least his full beard kept his face warm. As cold as it was and even without his overcoat he was sweating profusely.

Then with no warning and without wishing to recall it, his mind sped back to 1940. As a young man he'd already gained his commission. He had shown a natural flair in commando style operations and soon found himself at the head of a crack squad. It was here he'd first met Wilbur and Godfrey. A shiver ran through him. He was thinking about the briefing for a tactical assault on the Fuehrer's castle near Frankfurt, known as the Eagles Lair.

Their contact was a cell leader from the resistance called Sebastien. Right at the start of the war and with the help of the German resistance they set up an Austrian spy to infiltrate the Third Reich. Daniel's squad were due to break in, with special instructions to get the spy out alive. If he was left in too long suspicions might erupt, they were counselled. They didn't know the spy's name but were given a description of his appearance and told he was a top scientist. His job was to deliver map locations of German oil refineries. The team's orders included taking him to the nearest allied base, from where he could be flown to Britain.

It was called _Operation Eavesdrop_. Following release of their quarry the squad were instructed to get home by any means available, where they in turn would be de-briefed by their commanding officer as well as agents from MI6. But as he, Godfrey and Wilbur fled Germany they were captured by Nazi troupers and taken to Dachau concentration camp.

'We ought to call it a day,' Cecil said, shocking Daniel's thoughts into the present, 'the light's going and it's not long until tea.'

Daniel agreed. He was about to collect his coat when Wilbur's spade hit something. It made a strange noise, like a dull echo. He scraped the soil away.

'It's a plank of wood.' He pulled up to full height.

Daniel dropped to his knees. 'Let's have a look,' he said, giving a grin, 'it might be buried treasure.' He pulled away a rotten shard before hesitating. 'Wait a minute, there's something here.' He reached for a trowel and scraped some clay from what seemed to be a china bowl. Wilbur and Cecil fell silent as he worked to uncover the object. Suddenly he dropped the trowel and recoiled. He scrambled to his feet.

'It's a skull!' he said.

Hobbling in pain, Lena made her way to the bomb hole after school. Impatient of her inabilities her friends had run straight home. The light dimmed as she approached the crater and a cold mist descended. Lena thought about the fire at home, the parlour, her bedroom and her toys. She set her jaw and realised she would soon have to manage without it. It had seemed comfortable in the outhouse and anyway, it was too late to change her mind. She would have to show them, even if she was just a child.

Lena leant over the pit and peered into the darkness. Clouds obscured the waning moon but a nearby streetlight lit the pit. Lena could make out though not clearly, a long shape with a fanned tail, not unlike a mermaid. It was snaked around the tip of the bomb, and Lena was sure she hadn't seen it before. She took off her glasses and wiped them. But it was still there, a dark muddy shape, perfectly still, but altogether strange. Why did it have a tail, and was that hair she could see where its head should be?

'Well, well; what's all this then, young lady?'

Lena spun backward and nearly lost her balance. Before her stood the same policeman she'd met all those weeks ago after her escape from the asylum.

It was dark when Alec returned to Gentleman's Row. He climbed the steps to the front door and slid the key in the lock. Quietly, he slipped to his room. Along with the black shirt he now hid whisky in his wardrobe. At the table he poured a measure and lit his pipe.

The meeting had been a triumph. Although over a week ago, Alec continued to digest the event. He tried to recall every detail of all that was said. As he arrived a small, bespectacled man had walked up behind him. He introduced himself as Hugo Crumbe and told Alec he ran a tobacconist and sweetshop on the outskirts of Barnet. He noticed Alec was a pipe smoker and offered him special discount on tobacco if he called at the shop.

Alec was touched, said it was after all only a short walk from his workplace and he would be sure to call. Mr Crumbe had clicked his heels in approval and the two men exchanged light conversation after the meeting over coffee. It was only then Alec realised Mr Crumbe was the Officer-in-Command of the London Movement, and highly respected within the larger organisation. He told Alec how he'd moved to England with his wife and child before the outbreak of war.

Alec felt these people listened, had taken him seriously unlike Marsh and the rest of the hospital board. He was sick of waiting for promotion. He'd only taken the job because Marsh had dangled the possibility of making him Deputy Superintendent. He threw the last dregs of whisky to the back of his throat and laid his pipe in the ashtray. Slowly he peeled off his braces, unbuttoned his shirt and washed at the basin. He dressed in a clean shirt, oiled and combed his hair and looked at his mottled reflection. He was going to higher places with the Movement. It was his time now and high time that it happened. He slipped a jersey over his head and collected his pipe before going down to supper.

Mrs Gee had prepared onion and bacon roly-poly with cabbage and carrots. The Pink sisters helped themselves to extra gravy and said it was the perfect supper to keep out the cold. Mr Drayton was also in a good mood and rubbed his hands together when the landlady brought in bread and butter pudding for afters. Alec felt jubilant tonight, and retired to the sitting room with a cup of tea and his old pipe. His mood was so buoyant he allowed the Pink sisters to turn the radio up and even smiled when they practiced some dance moves. It was only later when Mr Drayton had gone to have his bath and the sisters had gone to the pictures that Mrs Gee came into the room. Alec put down his paper and praised the landlady for her culinary triumph.

'Oh, it was nothing really,' Mrs Gee oozed, 'I've got a nice joint in for Sunday; now that will be worth waiting for.' She patted her hair and smoothed her skirt over what Alec realised were very acceptable knees.

'Actually Mrs Gee,' he began, 'I was going to ask you -' but the door-bell interrupted him.

'Oh bother, do excuse me doctor,' Mrs Gee left the room. Almost immediately she was back followed by a gentleman in a grey hat and raincoat.

'This is Inspector Hawking doctor; he wants to speak with you.' Mrs Gee looked worried as she asked, 'Can I bring you a cup of tea?' The inspector took off his hat and undid his coat. 'That would be most welcome, thank you Mrs Gee.' The two men shook hands as she closed the door.

'Just some routine questions you understand,' said the inspector. He took out a pencil and notepad.

Alec appeared bewildered. 'Yes, of course, but what's this about?'

'Well sir, we have found a body: A dead woman.' The inspector flipped his notepad to a suitable page.

'Oh?' Alec's hands shook slightly as he refilled his pipe. He realised this had not escaped the inspectors' attention. 'And what has this to do with me?' he asked, trying to remain calm.

'That's what we don't know yet,' the inspector replied, 'but we do know that the dress she's wearing belongs to your wife.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 14**

It took the fairies some time to reach Pan's residence at the bomb hole. Once there they hid in a tree that grew out of the pavement. Since then they'd witnessed little activity. But now Lotus, Birch, Violet and Amber were startled out of their slumber by a huge beam. A searchlight some humans were setting up beneath the tree. The men angled it to illuminate the whole of the crater. The four fairies settled deeper into the tree and found a hollow to veil them from Pan's servants. From this watch point they saw none of his minions and could only suppose they had been forced to take refuge further down the pit.

The men shouted orders to each other. One with a louder voice made two other men go into the crater, tied and suspended by ropes. The fairies agreed this news was worth reporting, but first they would wait to see more. Carefully they folded their wings and stowed their wands in leg quivers. The two roped humans disappeared into the hole, the loud one warning them to stay clear of the bomb. They emerged some time later with a large, dirty package. Violet noticed some hair escaping from one end of the parcel, but couldn't tell if it were human or animal. Either way, it seemed Pan was somehow involved in this violation of Natural Law, and she announced they should fly straight back to Mab with their findings.

There was frost in the air that morning, and the fairies flew as fast as they could to avoid icing up. Back at the asylum they were intercepted by Sapphire and taken straight to the Queen. Mab was sitting in her winter chamber, a sizable nook further down the old tree. The floor was lined with fine moss and her new throne was fashioned from a pine cone decorated with carved briar thorns. She'd just finished a nectar drink and put the acorn cup aside as she greeted her subjects.

'My children,' she began with enthusiasm, 'what news do you bring?'

'Oh majesty,' Lotus said, 'we have seen grave things.' The three other fairies all nodded sadly while Sapphire looked on aghast.

'You must tell me at once,' Mab said, standing up and taking her royal wand from Sapphire.

'We witnessed nothing, saw no movement or heard any conversation until this morning when many humans arrived at Pan's kingdom.' Lotus hesitated while Amber cut in.

'They brought a huge light to see into the crater. Then two humans were lowered into the hole and they lifted out a..,' The Queen had drawn close and a look of fury was growing over her beautiful features. She waited for Amber to finish. 'It appeared to be a body of sorts, it had hair but we were unable to see if it was human or animal.' Amber stopped talking and wrung her elegant fingers together. The Queen raised her wand and in fury sent a lightning bolt into the roof of her chamber, singeing the wood.

'A vile infringement of our Natural Law!' she screamed.

'Could it, I mean do you think it was Pan, your majesty?' ventured Birch.

Mab lowered her wand and straightened her crown. 'I wonder,' she said. 'He was very angry when I solved his riddle; it may have resulted in this crime. But we must not judge too quickly my children,' she sat at her throne and became thoughtful. 'There may be another explanation.'

'But who else could have done this, in Pan's very kingdom?' Lotus pleaded. The Queen beckoned her fairies to sit. She placed the royal wand across her lap.

'A similar crime happened in our kingdom.' she admitted. The fairies gasped and began to refute such an occurrence. Mab raised her wand and demanded silence. 'Some hundred human years past a man here unearthed several children- his own kind!' Although familiar with the story the fairies exchanged looks of horror. Mab continued, 'The bodies were later returned and buried by the same man, under the courtyard. This very place is now being excavated by human prisoners who live here.'

'We realise people do terrible things,' Sapphire began, 'but surely that doesn't make it right.' The others clasped their delicate hands to their saddened mouths.

'You are correct in this,' The Queen responded, 'but since the beginning of humankind there have been the wars they fight, the bombs they drop and the too often robbing of life. As fairies we do not engage in these affairs and neither do we allow this negativity to affect our kingdom.'

'True,' Sapphire responded, 'but if Pan did this, it must become our business. We shall have to right the wrong that has been perpetrated.'

'We must arrange an audience with Lord Pan.' the Queen announced, standing and urging her subjects to rise. 'It's time he presented the second riddle; we can use this as our excuse to summon him.'

'I will send out fresh scouts your majesty,' said Sapphire. 'I'm sure it will not be long before he is in your presence.'

The crater was once more cloaked in darkness, and all was quiet. Deep within the lowest fissure Pan and his servants dared to move. The humans had left, taking with them not only the body that had been flung, some days before, into the royal residence. The huge bomb had also been defused and lifted out using long, thick ropes. The body Pan had met with some displeasure, not so much because of the loss of life, but because of the sheer nerve of the act. While Pan and all his followers took some enjoyment in the depravity of humans, it was quite another thing to go throwing expired creatures into what was _his_ domain.

Pan had inspected the body but couldn't tell what it was. It was wrapped in a long sheet, twisted at the feet like a tail of sorts. From the end where the head should have been several locks of thick grey hair protruded. He'd commanded all manner of ants, centipedes and beetles burrow underneath and raise it onto a bed of twigs. It was then moved to one side as with the bomb it was taking up too much space. After that Pan didn't really know what to do except relish in the baseness of human nature, and soak up all the negativity he could.

In many ways he found the expired body refreshing. Since the war's end he'd struggled to find nastiness with which to entertain his majestic self. Until then it had been enough to feed off the fear and despair, grief and suffering associated with conflict. But this only lasted while the emotions remained in the atmosphere. When replaced with hope and joy after VE Day he'd retreated to the miserable crater. After learning of the troubled child the asylum had been discovered. With its miserable inmates he was even more determined to obtain this kingdom.

Sadly the wretched Queen Mab had guessed his riddle, but he now had a fresh one with which to taut her. He thought about the Queen for a while. It was true her beauty was even to him, unsurpassable. He glanced down at his goat legs and felt the weight of the horns on his head. But he wasn't such a bad fellow surely? This was how he had been made just as Mab had been made a Fairie Queen. It didn't mean she had all the answers. Pan signalled to his servants and they followed, some squelching, some crawling or flying and some burrowing after him.

When they reached the higher cavity of the pit Pan realised the body and the bomb had disappeared. Immediately he put his workers to the task of clearing up and making good his shoe throne, turned over during the recovery. No sooner had he sat back upon it than Snitch arrived on the wing. He bore an urgent message.

'My Lord, there are two fairies approaching. They will be here any second.'

'What!' Pan blustered, 'why have you left it to the last minute to tell me?' But there was no time for an answer as the fairies flew into the stinking, dirty hole.

'To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?' Pan said, his tail swishing at the back of the shabby shoe.

'We are come to request an audience, Lord Pan. Our Queen is ready to receive your second riddle and requests your presence as a matter of urgency.'

'Is that so,' Pan drooled, 'it just so happens I was about to visit her. Ha, ha!' The fairies glanced at one another but failed to see anything amusing.

'We await your visit,' they chorused before darting off. Pan rubbed his hands together and clapped for his best aids.

'My hair is matted,' he said, 'it needs combing through, and my horns and hoofs need polishing.' He paused before calling for Snitch. 'Fetch my pipes,' he commanded, 'we are going at once to see the self-satisfied Queen Mab.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 15**

Mrs Gee watched in grief as Alec Silver was led to the inspectors' car. His lean figure seemed to sag before her eyes, and she thought for a moment it might have been guilt she saw in his glance. He looked different, frailer than she'd ever noticed. He was not under arrest, the policeman had asserted, simply helping them with their enquiries. From the front door she noticed several net curtains opposite twitch with curiosity.

After leaving the room she'd waited outside long enough to hear the words _body_ and _dead_. Then her hand had involuntarily clamped itself to her mouth. She scuttled off to make the inspectors' tea. In the kitchen she lit a cigarette while the kettle boiled. Irritated, she paced the room, briefly opening the back door to cool her annoyance. She took a long drag from the cigarette. Unsure whether she was angrier with Silver for his possible criminal involvement or with the inspector for coming to Gentleman's Row, she burned her hand when the kettle boiled. She ran the cold tap over it. A bitter tear escaped down one cheek and she wiped it roughly before taking the tray upstairs.

Now, as she closed the front door, something occurred to her. It might be possible to offer evidence supporting him, perhaps an alibi. First thing before breakfast she would tell him. She was determined to be on his side because he was needed for her future. And whatever happened to him, nothing was going to ruin that.

Daniel Kingdom had given his account of the uncovering of the skull. All the others had been interviewed on Lorikeet Ward by Sergeant Grimes, who recorded everything onto his regulation notepad. The four men were taken into a room they hadn't seen before, an office where they were given tea and biscuits after the sergeant had finished with them. He told them this was a matter for a specialised team, one which dealt with older, cold cases. But the men were still in shock. After his tea Godfrey had to be taken to lie down. His friends knew why he was so upset and were sure it would only cause deeper depression.

All three had been forced to toil in appalling conditions and for the most barbaric of history's stains. Above the entrance gate at Dachau the words _Arbeit macht frei_ were forged from wrought iron. _Work will make you free_. Some of the political prisoners were sent to work in the engineering firm of Siemens and Halske, but in the beginning Wilbur, Daniel and Godfrey were assigned to lay tarmac for roads. Endlessly they shovelled hard core or pushed along a huge, heavy roller. Later they were forced to clear away dead prisoners.

Some days as they marched to work women detainees could be seen in the distance. They dug out root crops and wore scarves over shaved heads. They were terrified to look over as this was a punishable offence. Daniel was taken to help build a huge shed with pipes running from it. The soldiers said it must be completely airtight. There were no windows in the design. Whatever revolting thing they were planning to use it for the men could only guess. Some said it was to be a hospital, but it was later discovered to be a gas chamber. Jewish women were to be taken first, along with any elderly or unwell. When they learned this Daniel and his friends tried to sabotage the gas line. All were discovered and thrown into solitary. When they emerged a month later the chamber was smoking for the third time that week.

Daniel pushed his tea aside and sat back. He glanced at Wilbur and his eyes moistened. 'It's amazing we got out alive from that hell hole,' he said. Wilbur's expression was glazed as he took a bite of biscuit.

'It seems we're destined to dig for the dead. Why is that?'

'Perhaps it's all we're good for?' Daniel suggested.

The morning had gone quickly for Gloria, while Mrs Gee became increasingly agitated. The ashtray on the kitchen windowsill was brimming with cigarette butts. As Gloria prepared to leave she saw her employer lighting up yet another smoke.

'I'll be off then Missus Gee,' she said, 'see you tomorrow morning.' The landlady waved a manicured hand at her in silent farewell.

It began to rain as Gloria waited for the bus. She tightened her coat belt and pulled a scarf over her strong, glossy hair. The rain was icy and stung her face. On the bus she paid her fare and sat back in the hard seat. Mrs Gee aside, the day had gone well. The chores were finished early and she'd spent the last hour unravelling an old jumper and balling up the wool. The butcher had delivered the meat ration for the weekend and when Mrs Gee was in the garden, Gloria mentioned the goat's meat. She wanted to make a Jamaican goat curry for her sister, as a surprise for Christmas.

'Blimey!' the butcher said, 'I've heard it all now. You do realise meat is still rationed?'

'I know and I've saved some coupons,' Gloria said, 'but can you get goat meat here, in England?' The butcher had scratched his head with a pencil for a while, then took out a paper pad and licked the lead.

'I'll tell you what,' he said, 'leave it with me and I'll see what I can do.' He wrote something on his pad and tucked the pencil behind an ear. 'I'll let you know if I can get it when I see you next week.'

The bus swerved and Gloria held tight. It would be nice to treat Ellen and see her face when she served the curry. There had been no further fainting attacks but Ellen was not quite herself. It was probably because of the asylum. But it was quite possible she'd been truthful about the crater. The morning paper reported a body found in a bomb hole, but Gloria only glanced at the headline while Mrs Gee had been drinking her coffee.

She held on again as the bus shuddered to a halt. Several people got off and a line of others filed on. As they gave their destinations the conductors' machine whirred out the tickets. Gloria's window was steamed up, the outside world partly shrouded from view. Ellen had reminded her about the fables of their own land, and of Mama Glow, half woman, half anaconda snake. She was said to have long flowing hair which she constantly combed. There were beautiful beings called Fairymaids, also with lush hair. If it wasn't just folklore it might have been one of these beings Ellen had seen.

The bus drew up at her stop. Stretching, she made her way to the front. As if twice her age, she slowly climbed off. Tonight was one night she could use a Turkish bath, and it was likely Ellen would need the same.

On her way home Lena saw the shattered house. Three stories high and alone by the railway, the rubble of neighbouring buildings lay jumbled at its feet. Lena watched as low sun broke through the windows, turning it into a demon. The children were walking home from school.

'The front looks solid,' said Horace, 'but don't let that fool you. There's stairs missing and the floors are really dodgy.'

'Why don't we come back on Saturday to explore it?' June suggested.

'I can't,' Lena began, 'I'm not allowed out.'

'Why?' Nancy said, 'it's been ages since you saw the headmaster.'

'It's my parents,' Lena explained, 'they're still cross.' The children glanced at her shins and became silent. Dusk was falling, and a tangerine orb sunk behind the rail yard. Wisps of pink and lilac haze ripped across the sky.

'Come on,' Horace said.

They turned and made their way home. Soon chattering began about how they would explore the house and later tell Lena all about it. At the end of her street, Lena broke away and walked the length of her road.

Sadness engulfed her as she realised it was useless to expect her friends to understand. Just like the policeman who hadn't listened, he'd told her to run along, as if she were an idiot. But she was accustomed to jibes about her appearance. Her legs were almost better, but the excitement of Christmas hadn't yet hit home. Instinctively her hand went to the paper fairie in her pocket.

Soon, very soon now, she would pack her bag and go to them.

Frost twinkled like fairy dust as Mrs Gee stood on the back step. It was only six in the morning, early for her first cigarette of the day. For the second time that week Doctor Silver had been taken in for questioning. He'd been gone all night and she'd hardly slept at all. She slipped on her wellingtons and crunched up the garden path. Keeping the smoke between her lips she quickly fed the chickens and rabbits, breaking the layers of ice on their water bowls. Back in the kitchen she lit the stove. Soon Gloria would be in to thankfully do most of the cooking. But it was the front door Mrs Gee heard opening. With feline stealth she raced upstairs and found Alec in the hall.

'Oh thank goodness you're home,' she said, 'I've been so worried, truly I have.' Alec gave a tired smile.

'They wouldn't let me go,' he said, 'I managed to get a little rest but they kept asking questions. They also gave me station tea; I think it's their secret weapon.' Mrs Gee smirked and straightened her hair.

'Why don't you have an hour's kip?' she suggested. 'I can wake you just before nine with breakfast. Will it matter if you miss work?' Alec looked doubtful but a half smile twitched at his lips.

'I must go in today, but I could make it a bit later. Thank you Mrs Gee, that's most kind.'

It was going to be a busy morning. There were beds to change and baking for the weekend. Thank goodness she had Gloria. After breakfast Mrs Gee took a tray upstairs. She knocked softly on Alec's door. When she entered he was sprawled on the bed, fast asleep. She put the tray down and looked at him for a few minutes. Although slim his naked shoulders were broad and muscular, his arms thick and strong. His dark hair stuck up in little tufts making him appear boy-like and vulnerable. Mrs Gee caught her breath.

'Oh my love,' she whispered. Alec began to rouse, realised she was there and quickly sat up. He found his pyjama top and smoothed back his hair. 'I did knock doctor,' she said, 'here's your breakfast.'

'Thank you Mrs Gee,' he said.

'Why don't you call me Greta, when we're alone?'

'Very well.' He gave a small laugh, like a cough. 'But only if you call me Alec. As a matter of fact,' he said as he bit into a corner of toast, 'I don't suppose you might be free for a drink tonight? I'd like to discuss a few things with you.' Mrs Gee clasped her hands.

'Well, I'll be free as soon as the supper dishes are cleared, say seven o'clock?'

'That would be fine.' His wry smile followed her as she left.

Later that morning she returned to his room to make up the bed. Gloria had already been through and stripped the bed linen. Mrs Gee dropped the clean sheets on a chair and noticed the wardrobe door wide open. She went to close it but something was in the way. It meant crouching down before she noticed a shoe box, just proud of the door. She gave it a shove. The lid popped up and allowed a closer view. A shiny object lay nestled in rags and an oily smell leached from it. Mrs Gee pushed the rags to one side and saw the barrel of a gun.

She staggered back as if she'd been shot. Her head smashed into the iron bedstead. She rubbed the spot and found blood on her fingers.

'Damn!' she hissed. Mrs Gee was dazed but she opened the door fully and looked in the wardrobe. The black shirt was still hanging there but the red dress she'd seen so often was gone. She checked the drawers, the tallboy and under the bed before she called Gloria.

'Oh, what happened?' said a concerned Gloria, making her sit on the bed while she bathed and dressed the wound. 'It's quite deep,' she said, 'should you get it stitched?'

'Don't be silly girl,' Mrs Gee forced a laugh, but her eyelids fluttered strangely.

'At least rest for a while,' Gloria urged. 'I'll finish here and by then you might feel better.'

'Thank you Gloria,' Mrs Gee replied, 'whatever would I do without you?'

'I'll come down and make a cup of tea.' Gloria said as she helped her employer to the landing.

Mrs Gee sat quietly in her rooms and sipped the strong, sweet tea. She wasn't sure what disturbed her most: Her thumping head, the absent dress, or the gun hidden in Alec's wardrobe.

****~~~****

**Chapter 16**

When she should have been asleep Lena switched the light on and got up. Quietly as possible she opened the toy chest and took out her father's haversack. One by one she packed all the provisions and tools collected over past weeks. In went a knitted blanket and spare underwear, and her oldest and dearest possession, the bright woollen hat. She dressed quickly in thick vest and socks, skirt and jumper. Taking a last glance around the room she remembered the torch, smuggled from her father's workshop.

Slowly, Lena crept down the stairs. Her heart thumped as she avoided floorboards that usually creaked. She tiptoed through the dim scullery to the back porch. Here, putting down her cargo she donned her duffle coat, hat, scarf, boots and gloves. Just before leaving she doubled back to the larder and took the end of a loaf. It just fitted into the rucksack before she slung it over her shoulders. Then she opened the back door and took her first steps out into a dark, icy freedom.

Terror consumed her as she left the yard. She felt sick, but swallowing hard the feeling slowly diminished. It was three in the morning and thick frost was already formed on trees and the roofs of neighbouring homes. Lena quickened her pace. She had no desire to bump into another policeman so took side roads and alleyways. Only using the torch when absolutely necessary, in one alley she saw two yellow eyes. Lena soon realised they belonged to a fox. The animal appeared inquisitive before turning tail and skipping off down the cold, deserted street.

She proceeded with care until she came to the asylum wall. Edging her way along it she finally reached the street door. Lena realised it must surely be locked but it was too cold to stay outside. She'd packed a screwdriver and planned to break in. But as she drew closer not only was the door slightly open, it also had tape across it similar to the stuff at the bomb hole. Lena wriggled under the tape and forced her way in. Her woollen skirt twisted on her waist as she did so but it didn't occur to her she might have shed some weight.

Lena switched on the torch. Like she'd once seen at the Picture House, she held a handkerchief over it to dull the glare. She only needed enough light to see her way to the outhouse. Carefully she picked her way through the grounds until she reached the shed. Cloaked in darkness Lena opened the door and made her way towards a faint glow. She undid the haversack and lay down still wearing her coat, hat and gloves. As her eyes became adjusted to the gloom she could just see the outlines of furniture. Lena's eyes became heavy and very soon she fell asleep.

Juliette had seen the Mother Superior again. Since bursting into the office memories of her former life began to return, but with such vindictiveness her emotions could hardly cope. Mother Lawrence sat beside Juliette as she wept, while Sister Virginia fetched a soothing cup of tea.

'Try to remain calm, my child,' Mother Lawrence said, 'these memories will likely spark others, so it's wise to prepare for shocks. I'm not sure you should spend your time alone. Perhaps you could join us at prayers?'

Past prayers, Juliette agreed anyway. She didn't wish to upset the women who'd extended the gentle hand of friendship. But the following day she was back with Mother Superior.

'I've remembered the hut for some time,' Juliette began, 'where I was kept with dozens of women, but the door lead onto the main square, the _Appelplatz_ they called it. And the _Kolonka_ , Inga, she was in charge of -'

'Slow down Juliette, please,' Mother Lawrence said, 'let my pen catch up with your words.'

'Sorry Mother,' Juliette said. She looked over at a crucifix suspended on the wall. Something about it seemed to call out to her, perhaps the incredible endurance, or the hideous amount of suffering.

'Have you remembered the plaster is coming off tomorrow?' Juliette's attention returned.

'Yes, Sister Virginia is taking me.'

Mother Lawrence didn't look up. 'I hope you won't be trying another escape?'

'Oh no Mother, I promise.' Juliette looked for a response, but the nun continued at her journal. 'But I can't go back there,' she pleaded, 'they tied me in wet sheets and locked me in freezing water for hours. They tried to electrocute me!' The door opened and Sister Virginia entered.

'Sister,' Juliette cried, 'please don't send me back there!'

'Where, to the asylum? Now whatever put that notion into your mind?' the nun said.

'I just want to stay until I'm better. Then I'll happily leave.'

'But where will you go?' Mother Superior said. 'Do you expect your great-aunt to have you?'

'I,-I don't remember any aunt; do you know her?'

'You stayed with her before you were so ill. She had no option but to send you away; she couldn't manage you any longer.' Sister Virginia said gently.

'Father Sweeny has seen the asylum Superintendent,' Mother Lawrence confessed, and appreciating Juliette's look of shock added, 'don't worry, he didn't give you away. He said he'd seen you at Chase Farm and wanted to inform your relatives about the operation. He was told about Mrs Dulcie Ham, living in Enfield.'

'I can't recall the name,' Juliette said in a small voice, 'but I don't suppose she'll take me again. I have to stay here, with you.' She looked appealingly from one nun to the other.

Mother Lawrence eventually met her eyes with a smile. 'I too, hope this will be possible,' she said.

Mindful of their first date, Mrs Gee was ready in the hall at five minutes to seven. Alec appeared shortly after, coming down the stairs already in his coat. He nodded to Mrs Gee.

'Alright if we go back to The Mermaid?' he asked.

'I don't mind.'

They walked to the bus stop and were soon on their way. Mrs Gee was wearing the robin-hood hat Ellinor had given her. She'd positioned it over the injury but it still pained and she felt irritable.

'Are you alright?' Alec asked.

'Just a slight headache,' she said, 'nothing that a doctor couldn't cure.' She heard the words and immediately regretted them. _I must be in control tonight_ , she said under her breath.

The Mermaid was busy, and meant being crammed into a corner. Alec was at the bar and spoke with the landlord for some time. At last he returned with the drinks.

'I must apologise,' he began, 'I wanted to let the landlord know the police may visit him.'

'Oh?' Mrs Gee said, raising her eyebrows a little.

'He may need to back up my whereabouts on certain evenings,' Alec continued, 'but they might also ask about the remains found at the asylum. He knows the history of when it was a workhouse.'

'My goodness, that's a bit gristly isn't it?' Mrs Gee took a gulp of her port and lemon.

'I know it looks bad, not so much the bodies, they were buried sometime last century.' he explained, 'But, the woman in the bomb pit was wearing my late-wife's dress.' Mrs Gee turned her head abruptly, making her wince.

'You don't mean it's her? Surely the sanatorium can prove -'

'Keep your voice down Greta, it wasn't Ivy.' Strain etched into Alec's features. 'She's the second patient that went missing, Miss Dorothy Spicer.'

'Oh yes, I read about her in the paper. Was she your patient?'

'Only shortly, until she was transferred to the long-term ward; she'd lived at the asylum for years. Everyone called her Dolly because she carried a toy doll everywhere.' Alec reached into his pocket for his pipe. 'Let me try to explain.'

'I wish you would. How did the police know the dress belonged to you anyway?' Mrs Gee rubbed her left temple with trembling fingers. Alec moved closer to her, so his knee was pressing against hers. She gasped, and gave a little cough to try and disguise it.

'There was a laundry ticket attached to the dress. I didn't know it was there, but I do remember getting it cleaned after I was demobbed. The police traced the ticket to the shop and got my name from the record book.' He sighed heavily and began to fill the pipe. 'Things hadn't been right between us for some time. But I did love her, oh yes, in the beginning.' He paused to strike a match. 'When our house was bombed Ivy went to live in Harrow. It was there she contracted the tuberculosis. By the time I came home she'd been in the sanatorium some time.'

'I remember,' Mrs Gee mused, 'I took a call from there just after you moved in at the Row.'

'Exactly so. They told me it was doubtful she would recover, and a few months ago she went downhill. Not long after, she died.' Alec puffed on the pipe. 'She'd expressed a wish that her body be left to science. She wanted to try and help others who might succumb to the same disease.'

'So, there was no funeral?' she said, looking him straight in the eyes.

'No body to bury, so no funeral.' Alec agreed. 'But I arranged a small remembrance service in Harrow. I kept it quiet, it was only close family.'

'And her dress?' Mrs Gee ventured. The port had begun to take the edge off her headache.

'It was her best dress. I kept it in case she was cured. It was my way of hanging on to her, I suppose. If she had recovered I planned to take her to the West End wearing that dress, as a welcome home.'

Mrs Gee lowered her eyes. As she looked up her expression sharpened. 'But can you explain why this Dolly was in it?'

'I'm coming to that,' he said. 'About a week ago my boss told me spare clothes were being collected to raise funds for the asylum. I looked through my things, and as I had no further need for it, took in the dress. I left it in one of the donation baskets. As far as I was aware that's where it remained.'

Mrs Gee unfolded her arms. 'So from the basket the dress somehow made its way on to Dolly. And then she was killed?'

'Yes, I think so.' Alec took a good gulp of beer, looked into the glass for a while. Mrs Gee sat back and lit a cigarette.

'She sounds harmless enough, so why would someone kill her?' she said, recalling the gun in the wardrobe.

'I-I don't know,' Alec said, 'but it seems she was strangled.'

'How ghastly.' Mrs Gee took a hanky from her bag and dabbed her temples. 'And they suspect you?' she said at last.

'They've got a witness, who saw someone of my build heaving a large sack into the crater one night.'

'Well, it couldn't have been you!' Mrs Gee held up her cigarette between polished nails and blew out the smoke.

'No, of course not, but on the night in question I was out at a meeting.' He hesitated for a second. 'A meeting I need above all, to keep secret.' Alec searched her face for an answer.

'If I can help in any way, perhaps provide an alibi,' Mrs Gee pressed, 'I would be only too happy to do so, Alec.'

Gloria left the steam room and joined Ellen. Her sister was lying on her front while the Russian woman pummelled her shoulders. Gloria climbed onto a similar table and waited for a therapist. Tonight she was treated by a West Indian woman, not as tall as the Russian but just as strong. Gloria waited for the warm oil to hit her spine before the pressure of hands and forearms worked away all her aches and pains.

She began to relax, wandering back to Mrs Gee hitting her head and the butcher's visit later on. He'd told Gloria it was impossible to get goats meat. 'Tell you what,' he said, 'I'll bring a couple of rabbits. I'll bet you won't be able to tell the difference.' Gloria had no choice but to agree.

Ellen was even more upset about work. Cecil had informed her of a child's body recently unearthed in the grounds. Ellen had been transferring sodden towels from one huge boiling vat to a cooler, rinsing one and hadn't paid much attention. Later she noticed the courtyard was taped off and there were policemen nearby. As she left the asylum a further team arrived, presumably to take away any remains for examination.

Gloria let out a sigh as the masseur's iron digits worked her shoulders. Ellen said it had something to do with the workhouse days, but it was all the news Gloria needed. When the time was right, she would ask Mrs Gee. Surely her sister could do a few more hours at Gentleman's Row? It would mean being brave enough to suggest the holiday idea. If she had no luck, Gloria resolved to get Ellen to leave her job anyway. They would manage somehow. More mending and alterations were coming in now, but Gloria had to sew in the evenings when she was tired.

She spied Ellen on the couch opposite. She appeared to be fast asleep.

****~~~****

**Chapter 17**

It was Saturday when Alec arrived at the shop in East Barnet. He travelled on the tube, having first walked to the Station even though the day was extremely cold. He carried a stout paper bag containing a shoe box and his umbrella. Alec pulled his coat collar up as he left the station at High Barnet. Stray flakes of papery snow landed on his hat and shoulders. Even with little affinity for people he hoped this winter wouldn't repeat the previous one. Then the snow had laid up to five feet, drifting high against front gates and houses. People lost all touch with their familiar landscape and unaware how close they were, some perished in the cold just yards from their doors.

The shop bell tinkled as Alec entered the empty shop. He spotted some Raleigh cigarettes, the same type Greta used and wondered if he should buy a pack. He'd spoken to her that morning after breakfast, when she mentioned a Christmas dance. The Pink sisters were going, and Mr Drayton was taking a cashier from the bank. Alec didn't like dancing. He was even less keen about Christmas, but said he'd think about it cheerfully enough to make her smile and toss her copper locks.

Just as Alec wondered where the man was, Crumbe appeared, leant over the counter and motioned for him to follow. He took Alec through to the parlour.

'Have you got the package we discussed?' Crumbe hissed. 'You were not followed?'

'I have the package,' Alec said, excitement rising in his stomach, 'and I made sure no one tailed me. Are we alone?'

'It's quite safe doctor,' Crumbe said, 'my wife is having tea at a neighbour's.'

He hesitated while he lit a cigarette and offered one to Alec. They sat down facing each other, the paper bag at Alec's feet. He declined a smoke, instead retrieving his pipe and tobacco. 'We've had some family trouble,' Crumbe continued, straightening his glasses. He seemed to be deep in thought, not at all the friendly man Alec remembered.

'Oh, I'm sorry.'

'It's my daughter; she seems to have absconded in the night. We thought she might have gone to a friend in Gentleman's Row.' Alec shot a glance of recognition. 'You know the area?' he asked.

'Er, I know of it,' Alec replied, suddenly feeling intimidated. He had no wish to become involved. Crumbe ignored the comment, walked to the sideboard and took out two glasses and a whisky bottle.

'I've tried everything to keep that girl in order,' he was saying as he poured two generous measures. Then, he almost whispered, 'She must've come from bad blood.' Alec accepted the drink but remained silent. Before he found a reply Crumbe seemed to snap out of his distant mood and into an even sourer one.

'Let's get down to business,' he said, 'why don't you show me the package.' Alec put his pipe down and handed Crumbe the shoe box. He opened it and whistled his approval.

'It's a Beretta, semi-automatic.'

'Yes, I believe so.'

'And nobody else knows about this?'

'Only Edward Fade, he helped me find the contact.' Alec added, 'No way to trace it, of course.' Crumbe nodded and sipped his drink. Suddenly his eyes narrowed.

'How did you raise the money?'

'I pawned my late-wife's jewellery.'

'And why do you wish to donate such a,' Crumbe hesitated while he searched for the right word, 'gift?' His eyes hardened behind the thick lenses.

'I wish to prove my loyalty to the Movement and to the Fatherland.' Alec responded. He told Crumbe of his vision, one of the New World Order that so many would not fit, and how those individuals might be better moved away, or even disposed of. Crumbe topped up the glasses.

'You realise that Germany lies in tatters. Our comrades have been imprisoned or have gone into hiding.' He swirled the whisky around before drinking. 'I'm told there were several years when you did not attend our meetings or rallies,' he said, raising a judgemental eyebrow. Alec slid to the edge of his seat and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.

'It was difficult,' he started, 'my wife..,'

'Your wife did not approve?'

'She was unwell.' Alec said, 'But really I needed to know what I'd done in the war would not incriminate me or endanger the Movement. Now time has passed surely this is the time to re-group, to swear my allegiance once more?' Crumbe took another gulp of his drink.

'Perhaps so.' he said, before hesitating for a second. 'Just what was it you claim to have done?' Alec emptied his glass and looked Crumbe straight in the eye.

'I helped manoeuvre my submarine into enemy fire. She took a direct hit. Most of the crew were lost, but one of the Petty Officers realised. He tried to radio out.' He picked up his pipe and re-lit it while Crumbe sat opposite, his cold stare burning into Alec's face. 'I had to silence him.' he said at last. Crumbe gave a thin-lipped smile.

'This is very commendable my friend,' he said. Alec summoned up a bolt of courage.

'But at present I have a small problem, Mr Crumbe.'

'Oh? But you seem such a thorough individual.'

Alec gave a small cough. 'I must stop attending meetings for a while. The police are questioning me on a rather delicate matter and I'm concerned they may be watching me. But I'm not in any trouble, you understand.' Crumbe was thoughtful for a while. He stubbed out his cigarette.

'Very well,' he said, 'I want you to lie as low as possible until they have finished with you. Is there anything else you wish to tell me, doctor?'

'As a matter of fact there's one more thing. Three servicemen were admitted recently with suspected delayed shock syndrome. I discovered with some difficulty they were part of a crack squad trained to infiltrate the S.S. Eagles Lair.'

'My God, the Eagles Lair!' Crumbe spluttered. He straightened his spectacles before voicing its German name, ' _Kransberg Schloss_.' The accent deepened as he spoke.

'The leader's first secret headquarters,' Alec confirmed, 'these men, they had the nerve to think they could outwit the Third Reich!' The whisky was taking effect. 'Bunny, I mean Doctor Warren told me this, but I had to get him drunk first. I want to use shock treatment on the men, but my superior is opposed to it.'

'This is all very interesting, but what good is it to the Movement?' Crumbe thundered. 'Didn't anyone inform you the war is over?'

'Not for me it isn't.' Alec returned.

'So just what is it you are suggesting Doctor?'

Alec stood up, buttoned his coat and positioned his hat. He staggered a little before squaring up to Crumbe. 'Just that if anything were to happen to them,' he said, 'I think I could manage to cover it up.'

Chase Farm Hospital stood bleak and grey as Nurse Lowe walked through the entrance doors. She had a chest infection and it was tiring to attend for an x-ray. Her heels clacked on the polished floor as she followed a corridor. A probationer nurse passed her in a blue dress with starched apron and flat, black shoes. Rose's asylum uniform was dull green, with the same sensible shoes.

Following Juliette's disappearance she visited some of the hostels and bedsits nearby, but had to consider her patient might be miles away, maybe even in France by now. Something else was worrying. The drug book on Hummingbird had been altered again; she noticed it whenever she checked the amounts with Charge Nurse Stanley. However, there was little she could do about it now she was unwell. Rose tripped slightly on the squeaky floor and sparked into a coughing fit. She leant on the wall until recovered, then walked a little slower to x-ray.

With Sister Virginia by her side Juliette waited patiently in casualty. All the seats were full and several people had to stand.

'It must be a bad day for accidents,' Juliette said.

'I think some of them are for other departments,' Sister Virginia suggested, 'still, it's extremely busy.'

'Juliette León!' one of the nurses called.

'That's us,' Sister Virginia said. She helped Juliette up and escorted her to the plaster room.

Rose was crossing the corner of the room when she heard Juliette's name. Stopping in her tracks, it took a few seconds until she registered. Then she noticed Juliette going into a room with a nun. She made her way to the sister's office and knocked on the open door.

'May I be of help?' a voice asked behind her. Rose turned and saw an older, greying staff nurse. She clutched a clipboard and pencil to her chest.

'Oh, I hope so,' Rose began, 'I'm a nurse at Moorvale Asylum. I've just seen a missing patient go into the plaster room.'

'If you are a nurse surely you know about patient confidentiality.' She moved to the basin and ran the tap. 'I think someone is with her, so your best bet would be to see them.' The nurse dried her hands on a towel, picked up her clipboard and closed the office door.

'Yes perhaps, thank you.' Rose said as the door closed. Slowly between coughing fits, she made her way back across the waiting room.

Morning light sifted through the grimy outhouse windows and settled on Lena's form. A kettle sang happily on the boiler while the aroma of toast sweetened the stale air. Lena stirred and turned over in her sleep. Exhausted, she'd collapsed on a heap of sacks. Cecil noticed her bandaged legs and allowed her to slumber a while longer. He poured himself a mug of tea and buttered some toast. Then he sat and watched her until she woke. Outside in the cold air, the snow began to fall. With no wind it was as silent as a prayer, lying in soft, marshmallow folds.

In the courtyard the exhumed resting places began to fill. Like a silken lining, the cold flakes seemed to magnetise into the frozen graves. The bodies had been taken for examination, but were to be reburied later in the churchyard. Cecil knew all about it, same as he knew about the body in the bomb crater. Once the spring was here he could sit once more in his favourite spot, under his great grandfather's memorial. The asylum had seen four generations of Tench's and all had served it as faithfully as the last. But his great-grandfather Silas had been tempted. He'd been promised money and the chance of better, more dignified life.

Cecil knew they died of typhoid poisoning. All Silas had to do was lift them from their graves and sell them. The bodies were small, half-starved and consumed with disease. When he delivered them the doctor refused to pay the agreed sum and Silas had to accept a reduced fee. Incensed by this he stole the bodies back. One autumn evening he buried them in haste. No one had ever found them. It was only now the children would finally return to their proper resting places.

But today Cecil had a real child. Questions flew as he chewed the toast. If she was like Dolly, all she needed was company. Poor Dolly walked the earth in anguish, with no friend until she found Cecil. Of all the crazed inmates Dolly had been his favourite. Amazingly he'd regained lucidity with her help. It had been a similar story for Silas. Even after a lifetime of digging graves, he'd retained his sanity in this place of torment.

Silas's son had been a grounds-man. Cecil's father Jonas worked in the woodshed as a carpenter, and Cecil had learned to be a mixture of all their professions. He'd never been trained as such, but learnt everything he knew first hand. After the Great War he was keen to take a solitary type of job. His father helped him and for a while they worked as a team.

But Dolly had belonged to the asylum since a young girl. She was as much a part of the place as the foundations. A lifelong inmate, set to reside within the place until death. Perhaps she'd known all along that he and only he could set her free.

****~~~****

**Chapter 18**

The easterly wind turned north and a fresh layer of snow carpeted the asylum. Smaller birds had migrated and left the crows, ravens and owls to forage for what they could find. Squirrels, rabbits and mice were snug within their burrows, while hedgehogs and toads had long since buried themselves in some leaf lined hollow. As it became colder the Queen and her subjects retreated deeper into their hollow. Within this wooden fortress they tended to the monarch and sang songs that had existed from the dawn of the Fairie Realm.

But today they prepared for Pan, Lord of the lower kingdoms and master of negativity. Handmaidens dressed Mab in a robe of frosted cobwebs before setting her glistening crown upon her head. Her hair was combed and wound into long ringlets that fell, swaying at her waist. On her feet were shoes of filigree leaf shells. She sat on her throne and was handed her magic wand.

At last she was ready to face Pan and his second riddle. Sentries were posted to the entrance and to the higher branches of the tree. Just as the sun stretched its rays over the bare treetops she heard a call from the highest sentry. Mab positioned herself in an upright posture and took a deep breath. Sapphire bowed deeply and allowed Pan to enter by a lower entrance. He had to stoop because of his larger size and ended up balanced on his haunches.

'Well, my Lord,' Mab began, 'I wish first to understand why a certain package was found in your abode.' Pan raised his head and knocked one of his horns on the wall.

'Your majesty,' he said, 'I can assure you that was nothing to do with me or my subjects. It was dropped into our residence, presumably to keep it hidden.'

'I see.' Mab let out a sigh of relief. 'And now my sentinels report it has been taken away by human-men.'

'That is correct, your majesty,' Pan gave the Queen a sideways look. 'Have you been watching my territory?' Mab cast her eyes downward before meeting Pan's glare.

'My fairies were on their way to visit you. They happened upon the disruption at your domain.'

'Very well,' Pan bowed slightly and continued, 'my riddle is but a simple one.' He gave a little smirk. 'What howls like a hundred packs of wolves, has the strength of a thousand elephants but is completely invisible?'

'You say a hundred packs of wolves?' Mab asked, her eyes narrowing. 'And the strength of a thousand elephants?'

'Just so your majesty.' Pan smiled and dropped his gaze.

'Pray give me leave for a while to solve this riddle,' Mab said, 'my fairies have prepared some refreshments for you and your party at the bottom of our tree.'

'How kind,' Pan began, 'but I can only give you until the sun is highest in the sky.'

'Very well.' the Queen accepted, 'until midday then.'

Alec's shoes crunched on the iced step. It was very early, only just before seven but already there seemed to be activity in the wash house. Inside large metal vats steamed and frothed.

'Is anyone there?' he called out. A colourful headscarf popped out from behind a bubbling drum.

'Can I help you?' It was the laundry girl, Ellen.

'Hello, I've seen you before,' Alec said, trying to sound friendly. Ellen looked dumbfounded as she wiped her hands on her overall.

'I've got lots to do,' she said, walking over to a pile of soiled towels.

'I'm Doctor Silver,' he said, 'I won't keep you long; I just want to ask a question.' Ellen struggled to lift the mound of heavy towels into one of the steaming tubs. They dropped with a splash before she returned to Alec. She stood still like a chastised child. 'Do you remember seeing a red dress in the donation basket?' he pointed to the far wall, 'It was probably a few weeks ago now.'

'Yes,' Ellen went shy. 'I remember because it was very pretty.'

'Do you know what became of it?' Ellen looked up at Alec.

'I saw Cecil with it,' she said, 'then the basket was moved from here.'

'Thank you.' A smile reached Alec's face. 'You've been very helpful.'

'I told the same thing to the policeman,' Ellen said innocently.

'Oh, what policeman was that?'

'He was here a few days ago,' she continued, 'he went to find Cecil, but I don't think he had much luck. He hides you see.' She smirked and cast her eyes downward again.

'I see,' Alec said slowly, 'well, thank you, Ellen.'

As he approached the main building Alec thought it more likely he would find Cecil than a PC Plod. But at least this news should move enquiries away from him. A taxicab drove carefully up the main drive. Alec hastened his step in the early chill. The carpet of snow under his feet had compacted, making his feet slip.

The car halted in front of the portico entrance and the passenger door opened. Astonished, he saw Juliette León and Nurse Lowe step out of it. He dug his heels in and reached the car.

'Wherever did you find her?' he said.

'It's a long story,' Rose began. She took Juliette's arm and led her up the snowy steps. They paused in the entrance hall but Alec shook his head.

'It's alright nurse; get her settled back on Hummingbird will you? Then come and see me in the canteen.'

'Very well,' Rose answered. Juliette did not look up; she seemed content to be guided. He watched as they moved gradually and carefully along the corridor.

On Lorikeet, Alec took out three files and sat at the office desk. Most of the patients were still asleep and the nurses were in the kitchen preparing for breakfast. This was turning into a good day. Before he made his way to the canteen Alec thumbed through the servicemen's notes, writing his latest entries for Wilbur Duke, Godfrey Pringle and Daniel Kingdom.

_Physical and cognitive treatment completed. For combined Insulin Coma and Electric Convulsive Therapy_. He signed each entry A. Silver, before returning them sharply to the drawer.

Father Sweeny led the small procession through the door and out into the snow lined terrain. He'd given a short but eloquent service, the words carefully chosen and delivered to a lesser congregation of doctors and patients. There were two policemen present: Inspector Hawking and Sergeant Grimes. The small party made their way to the asylum churchyard along with the petite coffins. Wilbur and Daniel shouldered the caskets and lowered them into graves they'd dug. From a distance, Cecil watched.

They were going back to their resting places. One by one, Father Sweeny gave the words of perpetual life and resurrection over the graves. Incense was shaken over the gaping holes and the sign of the cross made with holy hands. Then the cortege filed indoors for hot soup and sandwiches, but Wilbur, Daniel and Cecil stayed behind to fill the vaults. The three had found these children and it seemed only right they should be the ones to bury them. Only Godfrey was absent. He was too unwell for such taxing work and lay on the top of his bed. He called the staff Nazi's and neither Wilbur nor Daniel could get through to him now Doctor Silver had increased his medication. As they shovelled the frozen earth back into its hiding place, softly and gently, the snow fell.

Daniel could remember most things about the concentration camp but preferred not to dwell on them. But today it kept coming back to his head: _Dachau_. There he had also dug. Pits that were so huge he and Wilbur had ropes around their waists to haul them out. They dug in the wind, ice, rain and snow. Once when it had rained incessantly they'd become buried themselves. The relentless hacking had weakened the walls and the massive pit collapsed. The landslide concealed them under tons of sticky, wet soil. They were half starved and weakened but had to dig themselves out or be left to suffocate. Eventually Daniel got a firm hold on his shovel before he dug Wilbur out. Only an hour later when the guards saw there was no point continuing did they allow the men back to their hut.

It was days later when he realised just what purpose the pit was for. At the time of digging it his mind could only cope with the fact if he did so he'd be fed. Any other thoughts hunger had driven from his consciousness; all he understood was the primal urge to survive. Now, having endured all that and more, he was again in similar circumstances. All hope seemed to leak away as he leant on his spade and allowed the tears to fall onto the newly packed soil.

Wordlessly, Wilbur handed him a cigarette. He struck a light and waited for Daniel to take the first inhalation. Then he collected up the shovels and took them back to Cecil's tool shed. Daniel stood over the graves for a while. He remembered how he and Wilbur were forced to throw so many bodies into the same pit they had created. As then, the deepest feeling of revulsion swept through his body.

Not for the first time he wondered if _she_ had gone to such a fate. He tried again to remember her face, but it was no use. His one love and only hope had been lost to him a long time ago. All he could summon up was a whitened image, the edges dusty and frayed. Her hair had been so beautiful, soft and waist length, but now in his minds' eye it was brittle, grey and tangled.

The war had taken it all away; his love, his reason for life, and perhaps now even his very sanity.

Inspector Hawking ate a paste sandwich and drank weak tea from the thick hospital cup. He'd recently read through some interview notes. The Mermaid's landlord gave some interesting background and revealed key facts about the children. The workhouse records showed they died from a typhoid outbreak and so the cold squad were happy to close the case. In the late 1800's the workhouse was turned into an asylum and Hawking noted many architectural features still obvious.

But it was the present atrocity of the bomb pit murder the inspector was working on. He needed to speak with Mrs Gee, the landlady of 8 Gentleman's Row as soon as possible. He nodded to his Sergeant who was just helping himself to fruitcake and signalled, time to leave. Grimes drove him to Burnt Oak in the station car and drew up outside the house.

'Wait for me here,' Hawking said, 'I shouldn't be long.' Grimes nodded, pulled out a smoke and the cake wrapped in a serviette. Hawking smiled. 'You could have got me a bit.' he said.

'Got to watch your figure Guv,' Grimes gave a cheeky grin. The inspector climbed the steps to the front door. He rang the bell pull. When Mrs Gee answered the door she seemed genuinely pleased to see him.

'Oh, hello Inspector,' she said smoothly, 'what can I do for you?' She stood aside to let him into the hallway.

'Just a few routine questions,' he said, 'in connection with the comings and goings of Alec Silver.'

'I see,' she said, 'this way please. All the residents are at work, so we can talk in the guest lounge.' Hawking sat on an overstuffed chair while Mrs Gee arranged herself on the sofa. She patted her hair into place.

'I haven't got much time so I'll come straight to the point. On the night in question, Wednesday the nineteenth of October, can you tell me if Doctor Silver went out at all that evening?' Mrs Gee uncrossed her legs and got up. She went over to a writing desk and came back with a small book.

'Let me see,' she said, 'ah, here we are. The nineteenth you say, Inspector? No, he was in all evening, I've got it marked for our cards night.'

'Can I ask, is that your personal diary?' Hawking said.

'Oh no,' Mrs Gee oozed, 'I simply keep it to record our various card evenings. I put the scores in it you see.' She handed the book over. He flicked through the pages before returning it.

'And was it just the two of you that evening, for cards?' he asked.

'Yes,' she began, 'usually one or two of the others join us, but not on that evening it seems. Perhaps they were busy.'

'Perhaps, yes. This next question may seem to be a little indelicate, but when you're changing the linen or cleaning the doctor's room, have you ever seen anything out of the ordinary?'

'Well, not really,' she said, 'apart from a dress he kept in the wardrobe. Ruby red, and his late wife's I believe.'

'And when was the last time you saw this dress? Take your time.' Mrs Gee put a manicured fingernail to her glossy lips.

'I believe it was some weeks ago. He had mentioned donating it to the asylum.' Hawking flipped his notebook shut and rose.

'Thank you Mrs Gee, that will be all for now.'

Grimes threw his smoke out of the window as soon as he saw the inspector. 'Where to now Guv?' he said.

'Back to the station,' Hawking barked. 'I need to find out what happened with that dress. You say uniform have been making enquiries at the hospital?'

'Been at it solid for the last few days, but we can't seem to find this Cecil character.' Grimes returned.

'Let's hope they turn up something soon,' Hawking said, 'because my policeman's nose tells me that woman is lying.'

At the bottom of the tree Pan and his entourage sipped frosted blackberry juice and ate slices of sweet roasted chestnut. Snitch was most impressed with the quality of the food, taking more and more delicacies until his belly became quite swollen.

'My word,' he remarked, 'who would've known these fairies were such good cooks! I can't compare this to the mud soup and nettle pasties we have back at our kingdom.'

Pan shot him a glare, then continued chewing on a horseradish and mushroom canapé. 'Just imagine if I win this round,' he replied, smirking into his cup of juice, 'then all of this will be ours Snitch, the fairies included. They would have to do as I bid!'

Beetles and millipedes giggled, while Snitch looked like he'd been transported to nirvana. Pan smoothed his goat beard and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by one of the sentinel fairies.

'Lord Pan,' she said prettily, 'the Queen is ready with your answer.'

'So soon?' Pan replied, 'The sun is only halfway to noon.'

Back in the tree chamber he squeezed himself once again before Mab. 'Well now,' he said, 'what is your answer, dear Queen?'

'The question was what howls like a hundred packs of wolves, has the strength of a thousand elephants but is completely invisible?'

'Yes, what is the answer?' Pan snapped the words.

'A hurricane. That is my answer.'

'No, no!' Pan began.

'Am I not correct?' Mab asked.

'Yes,' a grudged look spread on his face, 'but how did you guess?'

'I worked it out. You give me little credit where my intelligence is concerned.' She looked at him down her attractive, regal nose.

'I'm sorry,' he said. His head dropped and the horns nearly reached her dress. 'What will happen now?'

'I'll tell you,' she said, her eyes sparked and menacing, 'you will now solve one of _my_ riddles. I've prepared it so you can go away and think it over.'

'What is it, dear Queen?' Pan said in a small voice, his head still bowed.

'What princess lies high within a wooden tower, unconscious in her tomb?'

Pan repeated the riddle over and started to manoeuvre out of the tree. 'Wait,' Mab commanded, 'I have yet to give you my terms.' He struggled back to face her. 'If you solve this riddle you will return to your kingdom and our two worlds shall continue to live separate and estranged existences.' She raised her voice and her wand. 'If however, you fail to deliver the correct answer at the allotted time, you will come here to live with my fairies in unity and peace.' Pan's eyes dropped. 'You will live by our rules and abide by our philosophies and laws.'

'And if I refuse?' Pan threw back his head and his horns scraped on the ceiling.

'If you refuse or fail to return, I will have no choice but to challenge you in warfare.'

Pan was thoughtful for a moment. 'Very well,' he said, 'let it be so. Until we meet again, Queen Mab.'

'You have three weeks to consider the riddle,' Mab advised as he made his departure, 'After this time I expect your answer the very next day, before sundown.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 19**

Instead of turning up the gaslight, Gloria moved closer to it. She was re-hemming a skirt for Mrs Gee, a woollen one that frayed easily. It was three in the afternoon, already dark and freezing outside. She was worried about Ellen in the snow but soon pushed these thoughts aside. Rising, she rubbed her back before stoking the fire. The clothes rack was full of damp laundry. She moved it closer to the small blaze. Gloria wanted to speak to Mrs Gee about Ellen but had waited over a week. Her employer was not over her head injury, and her mood had been volatile because of it.

Gloria picked up her needle and thread. Although her fingers were frozen she managed to create neat, even stitches. Now she had a number of people who asked her to do alterations or dressmaking. She did this in the afternoons and most Sundays. She glanced over at the mustard tin she saved money in. Some of it she should donate to the church, but instead it was all for her dear Mama's headstone.

Since working for Mrs Gee she had accrued five pounds, six shillings and sixpence halfpenny. Gloria had spotted in the stonemason's window a wondrous angel rising from a column of polished marble. That was the one for her Mama and no other would do. One Sunday she pointed it out to Ellen who'd wept with joy. It was nearly Christmas, but perhaps by next summer there would be enough money to have it placed on the grave.

Gloria hadn't really believed Ellen's latest story. She made so much up it was difficult to distinguish real fact from her fantasies. Ellen was unhappy and it was pointless to blame her. Some days Gloria was tempted to use their pin money to buy a passage back to Jamaica. On those days she commanded all her determination to stand firm and see things through. It was her biggest struggle; to leave England and accept defeat, or to honour her parent's dream of building a new life in the Mother Country.

Meanwhile, odd things had happened at Gentleman's Row. Only the other day Mrs Gee had spoken with an important looking man for some time. And before that Doctor Silver came home one day during breakfast. Mrs Gee made him up a tray, most unusual for her. It was only when Gloria properly read a newspaper headline she realised that after all, Ellen had been correct. That very afternoon Gloria fished in her pocket for some change and bought a paper. The words screamed out at her: _After woman's body discovered in bomb crater four child skeletons are reburied at Moorvale Asylum._

Gloria jumped as the needle pricked her finger. Her concentration had gone again. As she fetched a hanky her eyes magnetised onto the same headline. She folded the page and blood dripped over it. A shiver ran up her spine. The finger felt sore even wrapped in the hanky. She knew Doctor Silver worked at the asylum, and was now sure Ellen had seen the body in the crater. What she didn't know was whether she ought to tell the police about it.

At Moorvale, Juliette was drowning. Not in water, but in ice cold snow. She coughed and spluttered as it singed her nostrils and burnt into her eyes. Then slowly she began to drift to the surface just as her consciousness folded. She'd been on the slopes again, travelling downhill faster than before and with the same men in tow. As always gaining in pursuit was the enemy, who every now and then let off shots in their direction.

She came to for a few seconds and felt something pulling her from the jaws of the ice. Her arms were above her head and she was being pulled out by her wrists. Something was binding them, perhaps rope and the pain was so raw she feared her hands would amputate. Then she became unconscious again, and drifted back through a sea of snowflakes.

'I think she's passed out,' a voice said, barely audible to Juliette's petrified mind.

'Well give her a bit of a slap then,' said a second tone. Juliette opened her eyes in time to dodge the intended blow.

'Bitch!' the first voice exploded. 'Come on; let's get her back to the ward.' The same nurse unclamped the bath covers and released the plug. Juliette could feel the water draining with her will to live. The second nurse took the same grip on her wrists, pulling her forward in the tub until she found her armpits. Together they lifted her out of the freezing water and onto a trolley. Still soaked, she was wheeled back to the ward and wrapped in more cold, wet sheets. Stanley was there to oversee the operation.

'How long was she in the bath?' he asked one of the nurses.

'Seven hours,' came the answer. 'We had to take her out because she kept loosing consciousness.'

'I'll put that in the notes.' Stanley replied. 'She can have a few more hours in the sheets before bedtime.'

Juliette knew what it was to be cold. Her teeth didn't chatter and her skin did not shiver. But deep within she felt her life force fade. A thin vision came. It was the day the cast was removed. Then hope of recovery and freedom had filled her heart. She made a vow to live at the convent until she was well again. Sister Virginia stayed with her until the plaster was cut off. Then she excused herself and Juliette heard a terrible conversation outside the door. She got up and collected her coat. But there was only one way out, and the Sister and Nurse Lowe were blocking it.

She looked around the room. The technician had left her alone and now panicked, she tried the window latch. Her heart sank to find it was painted shut. The door opened and Juliette was cornered before she collapsed. When she woke in the Convent infirmary a doctor gave her a sedative. He announced the best thing for her was a return to Moorvale to continue her treatment regime. Juliette could hear Mother Lawrence and Sister Virginia opposing him, defending their right to give her the shelter she craved.

'This is not the right environment for her to recover successfully,' he'd insisted.

Now Juliette tried to open her leaden eyes. She felt her body slipping, then realised it was only vertigo. A supreme effort to wriggle her toes proved unsuccessful. Silently, softly, the wisp of a time long ago seeped into her mind. It must have been just before the war. She'd been taken from her village for special training. Straining to see more, her memory skipped forward, like a needle slipping on a gramophone record.

A train rumbled through a fir-lined track. She'd been excited, yes, that was the sensation. The train took her to Geneva. Now the memory was clear, as if she'd never lost it at all. All the beauty of Geneva reflected in its turquoise lake. She'd sat at a pavement café on the shores of that lake. But strangely there'd been no wind, not even a breeze. He'd looked into her eyes before lighting a cigarette. Had his name begun with an F, or an E? _Etienne_ flashed into her mind; of course - that was it.

It was _he_ who tested her on the slopes. A group of them had hiked north, eventually arriving at a wooden chalet. Juliette blinked back the tears, struggled in the wet sheets as she realised. Etienne had been her cell leader in the Resistance. Along with others in the group she'd been selected following her first Grande Traverse of the Jura. Raised near these mountains and having skied from a young age made her a worthy asset. In the winter months her father took her regularly to the peaks. Now she saw her pretty alpine village, how her mother had made goats cheese and butter. Her head flailed weakly as mixed emotions stabbed her consciousness.

Eventually a deep sleep enveloped her. But her last thoughts were of Etienne, the café on Lake Geneva, and the way there was no wind at all that day.

The smell of overcooked sprouts hit Rose Lowe as she entered the canteen. She'd had pleurisy and been on sick leave for a fortnight. After new tablets called antibiotics she was fit for work but the smell of the canteen made her nauseous. Rose walked to the far side where some easy chairs were arranged. She sat before noticing Doctor Silver was opposite.

'Well nurse,' he said looking up, 'I suppose I should applaud you for bringing back our Miss León.'

'I was very glad to find her.' Rose said, 'I hear she's back to cold-baths though.' A sad look entered her eyes. 'I've been moved to Men's Lorikeet.'

'Oh, really?' Alec replied as he lit his pipe.

'I'm still following Miss León's treatment. For my case study, doctor.'

'As you wish,' Alec's face was smug. He stood up to go. 'It's not healthy to get too attached to your patients,' he continued, 'didn't they teach you that at Nurse School?'

After her break Rose returned to Lorikeet. This time it was the aroma of socks and toothpaste that greeted her. The ward floor had been polished and one of the men was lying prone, admiring his reflection in the glazed linoleum. Rose reported to the office. She was despatched to the treatment room to assist Doctor Silver with the afternoon shock therapy. Twelve patients lined the corridor and by four o'clock Rose saw one last name, Godfrey Pringle. Too weak to walk, he'd been wheeled to the treatment room in a bath chair.

With another nurse Rose helped him onto the metal trolley. He lay back but didn't show a reaction. Apart from a rubber sheet under his lower half only a thin towel provided any comfort. Rose applied a sticky gum to his temples while the other nurse rammed a rubber bar between his teeth. Godfrey, up to now catatonic, sprung into action and tried a pathetic attempt at escape. The nurses lashed his arms and legs while Alec administered the electrodes. Godfrey's limbs shook and thrashed against the restraints until the current was released. Still unconscious he was wheeled back to the ward. Rose put his broken body into bed and monitored him until her shift end.

Mademoiselle had thankfully fallen asleep. Dressed in a dark skirt and high-necked blouse she appeared old fashioned, even Victorian. But set in her ways, Mademoiselle was too old to change now. Ellinor crept to the far end of the room so not to disturb her. Desperate for a cigarette she carefully opened one of the french windows. An icy blast forced it shut. A glance at the slumped figure told her Mademoiselle was out for the count. Even so Ellinor tiptoed to the kitchen before lighting a smoke. Greedily she inhaled the nicotine as her plans sprang into action.

The child had run off, that much was clear after a visit from Marcia Crumbe proclaiming it was all Ellinor's fault. She'd put ideas into Lena's head, Marcia insisted, and demanded Ellinor search for Lena. Ellinor's chest creaked with exertion. 'So this is how I'm to be treated, after all I've done for the Crumbes!' she wheezed. Marcia knew full well she shouldn't go out in this weather. It was far too much to ask. Alerted by a snort from the lounge, Ellinor saw her companion was still fast asleep.

She stubbed out the cigarette and cracked open the window. Inspector Hawking's visits to Gentleman's Row had not gone unnoticed by Ellinor. Nor also, the paper reports about the woman in the bomb hole. Long held secrets jabbed at her conscience, along with genuine fear for Lena's safety. She would have to be careful, but somehow she must get to the police.

It might be possible to go in a few days, before the Christmas break. She could tell Mademoiselle she needed to visit the doctor. It was always a long wait at the surgery making her certain she could get to the station and back within a couple of hours. These past years living with the old woman had been a constant struggle, not without cost. Mademoiselle never tired of telling Ellinor how fortunate she was, even though her vile disfigurement was obvious.

Now, as she studied the deep lines on Mademoiselle's face, Ellinor swore she would tell her story.

****~~~****

**Chapter 20**

In her new adventure, Lena had found a friend. He made sure nobody knew she was hiding and he brought her food. He also kept the stove alight so the hut was warm and snug. Lena had her teddy and her paper fairies as well as the exercise book she was writing in. But she worried that since her arrival at Cecil's it hadn't stopped snowing long enough to venture outside.

Today things were different. Lena woke to the usual smell of toasting bread and fried eggs but Cecil suggested if she stayed behind the outhouse it would be safe to play in the snow. Lena jumped up and got ready, borrowing oilskin trousers and rubber wellingtons from Cecil's collection. The trousers had to be turned up several times and the wellingtons were huge, but Lena didn't care. Outside the snow was a foot deep and very soon she'd collected enough to make a small figure. She worked through the morning until her hands were numb with cold. Then she stood back to admire her efforts.

'Looks like an angel.' Cecil's voice said behind her. She turned and smiled at him.

'It's a snow fairie,' she said.

Afterwards Lena warmed up next to the fire and sipped a mug of sweet tea. But later Cecil became distracted. As darkness fell he stared at her and said things under his breath. Lena became frightened when he found a length of rope. He twisted it in his hands for a while before throwing it to one side.

'You must be tired now.' he said.

Lena couldn't deny she was exhausted. After the hot drink and next to the stove she began to drop off. However hard she tried, it seemed impossible to stay awake.

Adverse weather conditions meant train delays but Gloria managed to walk part of the way. A few buses ran from Barnet and despite the hold ups she arrived at Gentleman's Row just after seven. The cellar steps proved more dangerous than the entire journey and she nearly fell twice. In the kitchen Mrs Gee was busy with the breakfasts.

'I didn't expect to see you today,' Mrs Gee exclaimed, 'you'd better sit down and have a drink before you start.' She picked up a steaming bowl of porridge to take upstairs.

'Thank you Missus Gee,' Gloria puffed, 'I'll get straight on afterwards.'

The animals needed feeding and ice cleared from their water bowls. Gloria dug out some leeks and a cabbage from the vegetable patch. When breakfast was over, she washed the dishes and made a fresh pot of tea.

'If it's any worse tomorrow you'd better stay at home,' Mrs Gee said as they took a morning break.

'Oh, I'm sure it'll be alright,' Gloria said, 'I like coming to work.'

'Well, I'm very pleased you made it.' The landlady put her feet on a kitchen chair and lit a cigarette. Gloria looked into her teacup for a long time, as if summoning up some inner strength.

'Missus Gee,' she began, 'I've been meaning to ask you a question.'

The landlady examined her ankles as she blew out the smoke. 'Oh, what's that Gloria?' she said in an absentminded tone.

'It's about Ellen; I wondered, are you happy with her work?'

'Of course I am.' She looked up at Gloria. 'I would have dismissed her if I wasn't.'

'Would you consider giving her some more hours? Just enough so she could leave the asylum; perhaps you could even take a holiday?' Another long line of smoke left Mrs Gee's crimson lips. Gloria was afraid she'd gone too far, had perhaps even jeopardised her own employment.

'You know Gloria; I may have an idea that could solve all our problems.' Mrs Gee said eventually. Gloria smiled and said thank you, but had no further answer.

'After Christmas.' Her employer burst out, 'I'll let you know either way at New Year.'

'We used to do this when we were kids.' Wilbur had been describing Christmas at home with his older sister. 'Wasn't keen on it then, less than impressed with it now.' he said. Daniel wordlessly moistened the ends of coloured paper and stuck them together. They were making a festive chain to hang in Lorikeet ward. 'Doesn't it make you feel like a child?' Wilbur asked Daniel, pulling a face to get his attention.

'More like a bloody idiot.'

'I wish we could get out of this place,' grumbled Wilbur.

'We can't leave Godfrey,' Daniel hissed. He shot a glance to their prostrate friend.

'Poor sod,' Wilbur replied, 'but we can't stay; you don't want that madman Silver doing the same to us?'

'Of course not,' Daniel said, 'but we've got a bit of time, we don't start our treatment until next week.' The bell prompted them to clear the table. Other ambulant patients helped, some dithering over where the knives and forks should go.

'I'm going outside this afternoon,' Daniel said to Wilbur in a hushed tone.

'You won't get far in this snow.'

'I'm going anyway, whether you come with me or not.' Daniel frowned at Wilbur, and punched him playfully in the chest.

After the meal the two sneaked out on the pretence of needing a smoke. The route took them around the perimeter wall where the snow lay deep and frozen. Their feet crunched in a satisfying way as they ploughed through the virgin froth. Wilbur spoke first.

'Do you ever, well, do you think about things back then?'

'Of course.' Daniel replied after a moment's hesitation.

'I can't stop thinking about that camp.' Wilbur admitted, 'Is that what they want us to do? I mean, can it really help, to keep going over and over it in your head, until..,'

'I do the same thing, old chap.'

'Really? Then perhaps it's natural, like a cleaning out process or something, whereas that shock treatment has turned Godfrey into a complete jelly.' The two men stopped, a little way from the chapel graveyard.

'Nothing at Dachau was in any way _natural_ though,' Daniel said. He lit two smokes and handed one to Wilbur. They puffed for a while and stamped their feet to keep warm.

'I had to get out here, even if only for a short time,' Daniel continued, 'because if I stay in this place much longer I really will go off my head.' He scanned the stone perimeter and caught sight of the wooden door in the wall. 'Look at that, Will,' he said, making off across the brambles before his friend could stop him.

They came up short by the door, saw only then it was bolted and padlocked. Daniel dropped his cigarette end and watched it fizzle out. It buried itself in snow as it did so. Wilbur patted him on the shoulder and changed the subject. 'Do you remember our main mission?' he said.

'Oh yes,' Daniel replied, 'The Lair. Seems like eons ago. I thought the adrenalin would kill me.'

'And now look at us! Of all people surely we can formulate a scheme to get out of here.'

'Including Godfrey?'

'You bet including Godfrey, but we need to get our heads together Dan. No more wasting time on paper chains or any other rubbish. What we need is a proper plan. At Christmas they'll be off their guard and short staffed. I say that's when we escape.' For the first time in weeks, Daniel smiled. He returned a friendly slap to Wilbur's shoulder.

'My God, you're right.' he said. 'Of course we can do this. Let's get back to the ward and start our plans.'

As they continued, the circular route passed Cecil's outhouse. They hadn't seen him for a few days and assumed he was holed up, keeping warm in the freezing weather. Following the wall they waded through deeper snow. Behind the hut the men came up beside a snow figure.

'Well; what do you make of that?' Wilbur said, examining the pristine form. Daniel peered inside the outhouse but detected nothing through the filthy windows. 'Not something I'd expect Cecil to do,' Wilbur continued.

'Well someone did it; it looks like the work of a child.'

Wilbur rubbed his chin. 'Perhaps it was him after all then?' he suggested.

'Perhaps it was,' Daniel said, 'unless it was the fairies.'

They hastened back to Lorikeet. But Daniel's thoughts had turned from the mission, the asylum and even the concentration camp. After seeing the frozen angel, all he could think of was the love he'd left behind in the war.

The snow lay in drifts for days until it gradually warmed, slowly melting in the weak winter sun. Dirt streaked and greying, it reflected the general mood. Christmas was supposed to cheer things up but for Inspector Hawking it was quite an inconvenience. Officers had at last managed to find Cecil and question him, but couldn't get much out of him. He admitted possession of the dress but insisted he placed it in a laundry basket with some other donations. Eventually they had to let him go. Hawking knew he lived within the grounds but Jeremy Marsh wouldn't allow his officers free access. He insisted they go everywhere accompanied. It was a murder inquiry after all, sighed Hawking as he sifted through the copious paperwork with irritation.

At least there had been a swift identification on the body. Staff member Rose Lowe had identified her as former patient Dorothy Spicer. Known simply as Dolly, so far her toy doll hadn't been recovered. Rose told Hawking Dolly was never without it. Strangulation ruled out suicide quite apart from the body being tightly wrapped. But the absence of the doll raised other suspicions. Cecil mentioned the donation basket got moved to Hummingbird, but Rose Lowe hadn't seen it or the dress. She now worked on the men's ward.

Cecil seemed upset about Dolly and kept saying he'd saved her. Saved her _how_? Hawking rubbed his temples as he concentrated. Strangely Rose Lowe had recently reported a different, but hospital related matter. She was concerned about regular discrepancies in the dangerous drug count on Hummingbird Ward. Rose wanted her name kept out of it and because of this had said nothing to Superintendent Marsh. Sergeant Grimes was about to look into it but now his hands were full with the missing girl inquiry. As if there wasn't enough to do, this youngster decided to abscond just before Christmas. Hopefully it was a simple matter and they would find her soon at a friend's or relative's house.

Hawking raised his eyes as a constable brought in a brew. There were two garibaldi biscuits in the saucer, just how he liked it. The constable closed the door quietly as he left. Hawking drank his tea thoughtfully. Dolly was a small woman, elderly with grey hair. Jeremy Marsh told him the family physician had her committed in early pregnancy. Dolly came from a titled family and most likely was an embarrassment. Her mental age was young, about seven years. The child had miscarried and Dolly's mental state deteriorated. She claimed fairies lived in the asylum grounds, convincing the doctors of an added psychosis.

Hawking dunked one of his biscuits, bit it with precision accuracy before it fell into his drink. He had two people in the frame, Cecil Tench and Alec Silver. It was possible Cecil had innocently put the dress into the linen basket but something about him was dubious. Mrs Gee backed Silver's whereabouts for the night in question, but Hawking doubted her alibi. He'd had a stiff word with Marsh in order to search Cecil's outhouse. He and Silver were also needed for a line up. It was time to get the eye witness involved.

Hawking sipped his tea. One thing was certain. If they found the doll in the outhouse, a finger of blame would have to point to Cecil.

Alec Silver waited in the treatment room for his last patient. He checked the notes and saw it was Godfrey Pringle, due to have his second treatment that week. It was unwise to proceed when the patient was so frail, Alec knew, but he was convinced his judgement was sound. This time he wanted Pringle to have an even longer blast of power. The door opened and Nurse Lowe wheeled in the trolley. Godfrey slept on as straps were tightened over his limbs and jelly anointed to his temples.

Rose had to force the rubber bar between Godfrey's jaws. 'Stand clear,' Alec ordered. He picked up the electrodes and delivered the charge. Godfrey writhed on the trolley and foamed at the mouth. A sickening aroma of burning flesh emanated from his head.

'Doctor! You must stop!' Rose implored. The electrodes were removed, but not instantly.

'Take his pulse.' Alec ordered.

Rose felt for a pulse at his inner elbow. 'It's very weak,' she said, 'and only thirty-six beats per minute.'

'Blood pressure.' Alec demanded. The second nurse was already winding the cuff around Godfrey's upper arm. He took the pressure.

'Ninety eight over forty, but I can hardly hear the lower reading.'

'Give it here,' Alec said impatiently. He took the pressure again, before trying the carotid point for a beat. His face contorted into blind panic. 'No pulse,' he said, 'cardiac arrest nurse, draw up some adrenaline!'

Rose dialled Emergency; the other nurse filled the syringe. 'Cardiac arrest on Lorikeet,' she said. 'In the treatment room.'

'On our way,' a voice said.

Daniel and Wilbur were deep in thought. Sat at the ward table they'd wasted no time starting escape plans.

'We could wheel Godfrey out of here in a linen basket,' Wilbur proposed, adding, 'bit risky though.'

'We could sneak him onto the food van,' Daniel suggested, 'there's a delivery next Wednesday; that gives us a whole week.'

'Better if we all get out at once,' Wilbur said, 'with Godfrey in a basket we could intercept the truck. I've watched them bring the meat in similar baskets.'

'Yes, that sounds good, it'll be the last van before Christmas. We can get on outside the kitchens. Once the driver unloads I knock him out-' here Daniel motioned a fist against his other palm, 'we could stick him in Cecil's outhouse.'

'That's a good idea, I like...' Wilbur was interrupted as two nurses ran through the ward. They pushed a trolley with a suction machine and oxygen cylinder on it.

'What on earth is going on?' Daniel exclaimed.

A nurse bustled up to the table. 'Nothing of your concern,' he said, 'there's an emergency in the treatment room.'

'Wasn't Godfrey due for more treatment this afternoon?' Wilbur said, checking his vacant bed.

'I thought he'd already had it.' Daniel replied, as shock dawned on his face. 'Oh, no,' he said slowly.

The two men exchanged glances and without further words, each knew the answer.

****~~~****

**Chapter 21**

Days passed before Alec spoke with Mrs Gee. He spent evenings at The Mermaid or shut in his room. Here he smoked and drank whisky while reading literature on the _Science of Eugenics_. But tonight was a cards evening and he thought it prudent to attend. It might even prove enjoyable.

To his surprise the sitting room was empty. He sat in a horsehair chair and took out his trusty pipe, filling it with tobacco he'd purchased from Hugo Crumbe. With no further word from the Movement Alec assumed he'd be contacted when the murder investigation was over. On this he was confident of being in the clear. The same mightn't be said for what he'd done to Pringle. Alec hoped his actions would look good in Hugo Crumbe's eyes. He also knew Marsh would probably back him over the affair, but there might be back-flack from Bunny. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair as he recalled being summoned to the superintendants office. _A bunch of bloody hero's_ was how Bunny described the servicemen. Alec hadn't been able to ascertain if Marsh saw them in quite the same light.

The door opened and Mrs Gee entered, resplendent in an olive green dress and cream cardigan. Alec's mouth dropped and the pipe nearly fell out. 'Good evening Greta.' he said with a nod of approval.

'Good evening stranger,' she replied, 'and before you say anything, I'm desperate to find a partner for the Christmas dance.'

'What date is it again?' Alec said, shifting guiltily in his seat. He was well aware of the false alibi she'd provided.

'It's this Friday, seven o'clock sharp at the church hall.' She rustled over to the writing desk to fetch the cards.

Alec stood up to join her. 'I would be delighted.'

'Really? Well, thank you Alec.' She flashed him a daring smile as the other card players entered the room. 'How nice,' she continued, 'Miss Pink and Mr Drayton are here to make up a foursome.'

The streets were deserted as Ellinor made her way to the Edgware police. A light mist fell with the shadows of a clouded day. Dirt coloured sludge under hedges and in gutters was all that remained of the snowfall. Ellinor pulled a woollen scarf tightly around her face. Just her eyes and forehead were exposed, not an unusual sight in the bitter weather. She'd lied to Mademoiselle, telling her she was going to the doctor and on to the chemist. Now she wished to be far away from everything. Of all her experiences the ones of Mademoiselle and Marcia Crumbe were the worst. Perhaps she should never have come to England after all.

Ellinor rounded a corner and brushed into a running child. It nearly knocked her down. Quickly she adjusted her scarf before the boy saw her face. Her main priority was little Lena, run away from home. Against all the odds she'd grown into quite a headstrong child. Even so it was wrong the way Marcia was so intolerant of the girl. A gust of wind blew up from nowhere, taking the scarf and Ellinor's breath with it. She hastened her step. It was important she reach the station and get back before Mademoiselle grew suspicious. She caught a bus that took her the rest of the way. It had been months, maybe even a year, since Ellinor had taken a bus.

Alighting, her head became dizzy. Then she took a deep breath and quickened her pace once more. Soon she arrived at the station steps. She hung on to the handrail as she clambered up and pulled wide the entrance door. The enquiry hall she'd only imagined loomed and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the handles of her bag. Behind the desk a policeman held a complacent expression.

'Can I help you madam?' he said.

'Yes please,' Ellinor said. She gave a little cough. 'I'd like to speak to somebody about the missing child, Lena Crumbe.'

A faint light sifted through the outhouse windows and cast shadows across the table. Today Cecil brought Lena a bowl of thin stew, mash and cabbage which she consumed with relish. Other times he toasted bread or teacakes scrounged from the hospital kitchen. The cook commented the extra rations she'd supplied would help in the changing weather, and Cecil said he was grateful.

Now he spooned the stew into his mouth and slowly chewed it. Lena finished her plate long before and snuggled up to the boiler. Outside the snow fairie had almost dissolved in the thaw. Lena went through her haversack for the hundredth time and checked the contents. On the rough floorboards she laid out her exercise book and a selection of pencils, her teddy, an old blanket, a battery torch and her colourful hat. She folded this last, dearest possession and placed it lovingly back into the bag.

Cecil didn't notice and seemed more than usual to be in his own strange world. Every so often he would mutter: _I saved her, saved her!_ Lena pulled the blanket over her legs and held the teddy to her chest. Sleet lashed against the windows and wind squeezed to gain entry through any crevice. Her eyes explored the interior of the hut. She saw the cubby hole where she slept, the makeshift kitchen of sink and cupboard, the boiler and the iron poker to stoke it. At the end of the room Cecil's bed held a jumble of bedclothes. Warmed by the fire, she soon nodded off to sleep.

When she woke it was not the outhouse she saw but a different place. Not the sweetshop but Mademoiselles flat, with its dark furniture and tall french windows. Mademoiselle was at slumber in her chair and Ellinor was turned towards the corner of the room. Lena thought she must still be asleep as she drifted up to Ellinor and called her name. Dreading the sight of her peeling face Lena recoiled even before Ellinor turned. The terrifying figure began to grow taller as she tried to smite Lena with a metal poker.

Lena screamed out loud and opened her eyes. She was awake in the outhouse, but Cecil was nowhere to be seen.

Much to her irritation, the wind and rain stopped Mrs Gee from going out. She had plans that needed sorting out, plans involving Alec Silver. In her rooms she took out the little box from her bedside table. Inside and nestled on a scrap of velvet was a single silver key. Underneath the note read: _To my darling Greta, from Papa - The answer to your prayers._

She helped Gloria with the breakfast chores and left her to prepare the evening meal before catching the seven minutes past one bus. By now the wind had dropped and all but a drizzle of rain continued to fall from the dull, grey sky. Mrs Gee had used the telephone to arrange an appointment with solicitors Bingley and Webber. The receptionist told her she could be seen at two o'clock by a Mr Fade. Mrs Gee confirmed the time and wrote it all down to be on the safe side. The name _Fade_ had rung a bell, but she was unable to remember why.

She got off the bus at Edgware High Street. Early for her meeting she took a planned visit to the bank. The High Street seemed busier than usual and she stepped aside to allow a mother and pram through. As she did so Mrs Gee noticed a familiar person on the opposite side of the road, although the figure did not appear to see her. The woman was walking quickly and very spritely even though her hands were holding a scarf to her face.

Mrs Gee knew it was Ellinor, but had never seen her out unless to visit the chemist only streets away. She slowed her step and although it was too cold to tarry, followed Ellinor along the road. Mrs Gee turned to one side and pretended to look in the greengrocers as her quarry darted a glance back down the High Street. She continued walking at a discreet distance. As the landlady peeped around a corner she saw Ellinor climb the entrance steps of the police station.

She was still reeling in the solicitor's waiting room when her name was called. She rose and tried to push all thoughts of Ellinor into the background as she shook the broad hand of Edward Fade. He sat at his desk and asked how he could help. Mrs Gee wriggled a little, patted her hair and opened her handbag. She placed some documents on the desk.

'I've just been to the bank and collected a set of title deeds,' she began, 'for a chateau in Germany left to me by my father. I wish to make a will bequeathing all of it to Doctor Alec Silver, presently living at my lodging house in Gentleman's Row.'

Edward Fade shot her a glare. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his nose. His expression changed to one of benevolence.

'I see,' he said slowly, checking Mrs Gee's left hand, 'and the said Doctor Silver and you are engaged, or perhaps already betrothed?'

'What's that got to do with it?' The words were a little too harsh. She patted her hair in case it had come loose. 'It just so happens that I do have hopes on that subject, if you must know.'

Edward Fade folded his hands over the desk. He gave Mrs Gee a withering look. 'I ask because I have to make certain you've not been coerced. You will be leaving your estate to an individual not connected with your family.' He picked up the deeds and looked through them in a vague fashion.

'Oh, I'm doing it of my free will.' Mrs Gee stated. She placed her fingers firmly on the desktop. 'I don't want my family to have it, anyway.'

'In that case, Mrs Gee, I will draw up the necessary papers. Let's go through the format now so you can add anything you need before it becomes a legal document.'

For the second time that month Father Sweeny led a funeral. Wilbur and Daniel were pallbearers again, only now they carried their old friend and comrade into the church of Saint Joan of Arc. A choir of nuns sang hymns as the organ burst into a deafening crescendo. Daniel and Wilbur read verses from the bible while Godfrey's sister Pamela gave a tribute for his war service. No one from the military attended and only Jeremy Marsh and Rose Lowe turned up from the asylum. Daniel suggested to Wilbur it might be guilt that forced them to come.

After the service a hearse took Godfrey to a graveyard near Potter's Bar. This was where Pamela lived and having him near meant his grave could be tended. Daniel watched as the wooden box disappeared into the earth and tears fell for his old friend. Godfrey always got the rough end of the stick. He'd fallen from a ledge during Operation Eavesdrop, but refused to step down even with an agonising ankle sprain. Godfrey had also been shot as they made their escape and spent the first week after capture in Dachau camp hospital. And now this: His unnecessary and tragic death on the eve of all three breaking out of the asylum.

Pamela organised refreshments at a local pub, The Crown. Tea and sandwiches were plentiful, but Wilbur and Daniel didn't have much of an appetite. Jeremy Marsh had been watching them and when they'd finished their food he took them over to one side.

'Look chaps,' he said, 'I want you to know I'm really sorry about your chum Godfrey.'

'He was a lot more than a chum, as you put it,' Wilbur said, slamming his teacup down.

'Yes, I'm sure of it,' Marsh went on, 'and I'm well aware you three went through a hell of a war together. I wanted to tell you I'm putting an end to the shock treatment you were due to receive.' The two men looked at Marsh in disbelief.

'If only you could have stopped Godfrey having it,' Daniel said, 'he might still be here today.' Marsh looked gloomy as he smoothed out his moustaches. Voices were suddenly raised from a nearby table and the men shifted uncomfortably.

'I know how you must feel,' Marsh said feebly.

'I doubt that very much.' Wilbur replied, 'And as a matter of fact we've got something to tell you.'

'Oh?' Marsh winced slightly as he tried to listen above the growing din in the pub.

'We're breaking out at Christmas and we're not coming back.' Daniel said, but Marsh put a hand to his ear as a glass crashed to the floor, obliterating the words.

****~~~****

**Chapter 22**

Mrs Gee dressed carefully in her new underwear and the outfit she'd sewn. At last her chance to nail Alec down had come. Slowly, she pulled on a new pair of nylon stockings. She'd kept them since the war when a couple of American soldiers were billeted at Gentleman's Row. They'd given her chocolate and stockings, most of which were now darned. She looked down at her shapely, glistening legs and sighed deeply.

Tonight, it had to be _tonight_ she made him her own.

The dress had turned out well, a flowing gown of emerald crepe de chine with a little matching cape. In her sewing box she'd found just the right trim for the cape, some silver beading from her wedding dress. Nineteen was too young, almost childlike for a bride. Now nearly thirty, not a moment longer could be lost. Her wound was healed, but as she pinned her thick curls into place a little wince clouded her features. Silly doubts over Dorothy Spicer, and the visits from Inspector Hawking pricked her conscience. So many times she'd tried to recall the night a tall man was seen dropping a bundle into the crater. The very same night Alec came in late after his meeting.

She'd probably been asleep by the time he let himself in, but later he told her of walking back most of the way. He needed to clear his mind after the excitement of the reunion. Now the uncertainty in her mind was torture. Mrs Gee pushed a silver hair clasp into her auburn curls. 'No.' she said firmly to her face in the mirror. She refused to believe he was capable of murder. The fact that she hadn't seen the inspector for some time was surely an indication of Alec's innocence.

Resisting a smoke in case her lipstick smudged, she picked up her evening bag and gloves. With feline grace she glided across the landing and descended the stairs to the hallway.

Although it hadn't featured cold baths or wet sheets, the day had seemed long. Juliette was surprised to be allowed up while a nurse led her around the ward. At first her legs had buckled, but she persevered until she could walk no more. Juliette sat at the dining table and drank a cup of tea. A grain of gratitude entered her heart as she surveyed the ward from this refreshing position. Other members of staff were hanging paper chains across the room while some of the more able patients trimmed a festive tree.

Completely different from queuing for baths, it was almost as if she were dreaming again. Juliette knew all about lining up, it was mostly what she'd done over long years at Ravensbruk. She could see it now, lining up for food, for exercise, and cold and naked for showers. She remembered sleeping three or more to a bunk and of arguments over food. There had been days when all the women were forced to stand in freezing weather, up to ten hours in the main-square, or _Appelplatz_. The younger ones would help keep the older or infirm upright by literally squashing into their sides. If they fell, they were beaten and told to ' _Aufstehen_ _-_ Get up.' Juliette was suddenly aware her asylum shift was almost the same as the Ravensbruk sack. And as if to further torture her, the memory of the worst day ever returned.

It had been bitter when her baby was taken, like the weather she could see today through the ward window. Then, one of the women gave her something to wrap the child in. Juliette tried to push it away but bizarrely the memory was clearer than ever. The scene reared as the guard barged over to her bunk and snatched little Anna out of her arms. The baby started to cry and Juliette screamed and shouted while the other women held her down. They wiped away her tears, allowed her to struggle and fight until exhausted, she passed out on the floor. Was it hours or days later when she gained consciousness? After that for some weeks she was marched to the nursery to breastfeed other newborns, but although she looked for her every day she never saw her Anna again.

Now tears fell as she looked down at her empty arms, but she hid her face from the staff of Hummingbird. She scanned the ward for the little lady with the doll but couldn't see her anywhere. Later that morning she tried asking some of the other patients where Dolly was, but got no proper answer. One woman sniggered and gazed longingly at the ceiling. Another began to rant unpleasantly and had to be led away. Juliette waited for admonition but oddly she was left to her own devices for the entire day.

In the afternoon she stood at the back door and gazed out onto the icy grounds. In the distance she saw two men in thick overcoats, almost invisible against the sparse winter vegetation. They were walking very near to the outer wall. Something about them seemed familiar but it was impossible she knew them. Both wore beards and their features were blurred. But as she dropped her gaze somewhere inside a small bud began to open, sending warmth and reassurance through her veins. Strangely she remembered a time when her body had wielded to its own, private desires. Then she had prayed for the strength to make these feelings disappear, but had been unable to resist. She looked again at the grey walls of the ward and the meagre winter offerings and sighed.

Outside something like a dragonfly hovered along the pane. Juliette stared as it levitated to head level. A silken voice then whispered inside her head.

' _That which you seek is already here, for that which you seek will dry your tears. Although you are lost there is nothing to fear, for soon you will find all you hold dear.'_

She held a hand up to the glass, but felt only a familiar icy cold against her fingertips.

Inspector Hawking dried his hands. He had just enough time for a quick bite of lunch before overseeing the identity parade. It was gone two o'clock and Doctor Silver and Cecil were already at the station. Sergeant Grimes was due back any time soon with the eye witness. He took a sandwich from his desk drawer but was prevented from starting it.

'Sir, there's a lady at the desk asking to speak to you.' A constable said at the door.

'What's it concerning?' said Hawking, 'I'm just about to have my lunch.'

'Sorry sir,' the constable returned, 'she says she's got information about the Crumbe girl.'

Hawking took a quick bite of his food. 'Oh very well, take her to an interview room.' The constable gave a deft salute before leaving. Hawking followed a few minutes later. He entered the room to find the almost concealed face of Ellinor looking frantically from side to side.

'How can I help you Miss, er,' Hawking checked his notes to find the name.

'Inspector, I think I know where my Lena is,' Ellinor blustered, 'I mean the missing girl, Lena Crumbe.' Hawking sat opposite her and put his notes on the table.

'Why did you call her _my_ Lena,' he said, 'are you related in some way?' Ellinor avoided his stare. Hawking was flipping through his note book. 'I've got her parents here, and a friend of theirs, an Estelle Girard, known to them as Mademoiselle, but -'

'I live with Mademoiselle,' Ellinor blurted out, 'at 8 Gentleman's Row.' Hawking looked up and at once became more engaged.

'You haven't answered my question,' he said, 'but that can wait. If you know where she is you must tell me.' Ellinor raised her head and the scarf slipped a little. Hawking drew in a sharp breath but managed to retain his composure.

'I want to.. I need to tell you everything first,' she said.

'Yes, yes, all in good time, but if you know anything you must say it. The situation is becoming urgent. We've checked all possible addresses of friends and relatives with no success. In this freezing weather we need to find her very soon. Surely you can understand that?'

'Then please can I come another time to tell you my story?' Ellinor had begun to weep, large round tears that fell with a plop onto the polished table.

'Of course you can,' Hawking said more kindly, 'now, what can you tell me?'

'A few months ago she ran away for a night. Her parents didn't know where she went to, but she told me. I think she may have gone back there.'

'And just where is this place?' The identity parade was now running late and Hawking's patience was waning. Ellinor took a deep breath.

'I think she may be hiding at Moorvale Asylum.'

Headway was slow around the perimeter wall. Feet slipped on iced snow and wire-like brambles slashed their clothes. Wilbur stopped abruptly and signalled to Daniel. The men had made it to where the graveyard lay, just beyond the laundry house.

'Are you sure this is a good idea?' Wilbur hissed.

'Of course old man.'

Daniel grinned and took a run for the laundry house before he could object further. Wilbur picked his way through slush to join him. It was gone four o'clock and quite dark, the half moon shrouded with cloud. They edged along the wall and stole a glimpse through a window. The dimness within revealed no movement. But following a noise from inside the two advanced with caution. Near the entrance Daniel peered in again. He saw somebody in the shadows and made a silent signal to Wilbur. In no time they were inside the door, obscured from sight as Ellen exited the building. She locked the door behind her. The men waited a few minutes before they searched for a laundry basket.

'You realise we could have just nicked one from the ward,' Wilbur said, breaking the silence.

'This is much safer,' Daniel insisted, 'one basket won't be easily missed from here.'

They moved quietly through the laundry house, passing great vats and tubs and lines of hanging sheets and towels. At the end were lines of damp clothes, mostly asylum pyjamas and caps.

'This reminds me of Dachau,' Daniel said sadly.

'Reminds me of our mission,' Wilbur replied, 'I'd forgotten how good we are!' Daniel grinned and gave Wilbur a playful push. They'd come to a large bay with deep baskets and shelves full of linen. At one end of the room were some smaller baskets, used to collect laundry from the ward linen skips. Wilbur grabbed a basket while Daniel took two skip bags with drawstring tops.

'Mission almost accomplished,' he said, 'now all we have to do is get back to the ward.'

'Yes,' Wilbur replied, 'but the girl locked us in. First we've got to find a way out of this laundry house.'

Alec Silver was late. After six thirty Mrs Gee had paced the hall so many times she now decided to pace the sitting room. Attempts to keep calm had forced her to light a cigarette. Her lipstick had smudged but she could adjust this at the hall mirror if necessary. She didn't want to sit in case she creased her dress, and she didn't care to walk any further because her feet hurt. This was almost the last straw after all she had done, and was still doing for Alec Silver.

She'd gone to the trouble of arranging for Gloria to work late so the tenants got a hot supper. It was she who instigated the date, had asked him out of the kindness of her heart, not imagining he might let her down. Her appointment with Mr Fade was fast becoming so humiliating she almost wept. If her makeup ran she'd look a complete sight in front of everyone at the dance. If she ever got to the dance! She glanced at the clock again. It was forty-five minutes past six.

'Oh God,' she groaned, checking her hair and feeling acid rise from her stomach. Suddenly she sat down on one of the solid chairs. Perhaps the inspector had found something leading to Alec's arrest? Mrs Gee began to pant against the tight dress and tiny beads of perspiration broke out down her spine. She was agitated, excited and angry, all at once.

A key in the door-lock made her jump. Trying to compose herself, she slowly made her way into the hall. Alec Silver stood on the top step, hat in hand and full of contrition. He'd been detained at the police station for an identity parade, with two further hours of questioning. Eventually they allowed him to go.

'Oh, thank God,' Mrs Gee blurted out, 'I knew you couldn't have done it!'

'Of course I didn't,' Alec said, irritation entering his voice. 'Now if you wait just a couple more minutes, I need to freshen up and change. We'll only be slightly late for the dance.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 23**

The doors of the church hall released music into the air. Inside the floor was crowded with multi-coloured dresses and hatless men in suits. Mrs Gee wanted to dance straight away and after checking the coats in, joined the throng with Alec. He managed a very passable waltz, followed by a lively foxtrot. Mrs Gee noticed admiring females rove her outfit, and several men including Mr Drayton who looked her up and down. She hoped Alec could see this too, although tonight for once, he only seemed to have eyes for her.

They moved off the dance floor to get drinks. A long trestle table donned sandwiches, sausage rolls and a huge bowl of punch. Cheese straws and mince pies were also included in the ticket price. The dance had been jointly organised by the parish committee and the Women's Institute. Mrs Gee's refreshment was cut short by Mr Drayton asking for a dance. Alec smiled good-naturedly as he led her onto the floor. The band played _'You only hurt the one you love'_ as the dancers glided around the room. Alec retired to a chair and waited for his date to return. The punch, although quite weak, had gone straight to his knees and he realised he hadn't eaten since breakfast.

He went over the afternoon's events, of Sergeant Grimes picking him up from the asylum and the line up with Cecil and five others. Of course he knew Cecil, he'd spoken to him on occasion and now he thought of it had seen him often chatting to Charge Nurse Stanley. He seemed quite happy living in the outhouse, tending to odd jobs and the old cemetery. Alec didn't feel he could be dangerous, he was perhaps a little backward, but able to work as his forefathers had done. His best quality was he always did as he was told. Alec hoped he also had the sense to keep his mouth shut if the police asked certain questions.

He snapped back to the present as Mrs Gee pirouetted back to him. Quite giddy, she almost landed in his lap. She sat beside him and Alec could see her chest rise and fall. He felt her sugared breath on his face.

'Shall we get some air?' he said.

He collected the coats and took her outside. In the dimmed light couples stood about smoking or necking, but Mrs Gee was subdued. She buttoned her jacket and pulled the collar up. Alec offered her a light and used the same match for his pipe. He held his elbow out for her as they took a chilled stroll around the building. Their footsteps crunched on the iced path while surrounding trees glittered merrily. Mrs Gee dropped her cigarette stub and twisted it into the gravel with an elegant toe. Alec returned his pipe to his pocket.

He wanted to play things cool, didn't want her to get the wrong idea of his feelings. He realised his opinion of Mrs Gee was usually confused. But tonight things seemed so different. When she'd danced with Mr Drayton Alec felt similar pangs of jealousy when men had admired Ivy. Finally released from the murder inquiry, the warm punch and his transformed landlady all made his senses run amok. His firm hands grasped her shoulders. The strong grip made her swoon, just as Alec planted a moist kiss on her crimson lips. Then almost at once, he broke away.

'Oh, Alec,' simpered Mrs Gee, 'there are things I must tell you.'

'It's freezing out here,' he said, awkwardly rubbing his hands together.

'Back at my rooms then, there's some sherry and cold chicken we could have for supper.'

Inspector Hawking finished his main course and wiped his mouth on a serviette. He sat back in his chair while his wife, happy to have him home, replaced the empty plate with a dish of treacle tart and custard. Hawking's smile spelled gratitude to his loyal spouse as she cleared away the dishes, washing and drying them with expert speed.

'You got him then,' she said, disappearing momentarily to fetch the teapot.

'Start proper questioning tomorrow,' Hawking quaffed through a mouthful of pudding. 'One of the nurses is coming in to sit with him. In case he's frightened,' he added. Mrs Hawking stiffened as she poured out the steaming, golden tea.

'Well,' she said, 'I'd like to know how that poor wee lady felt, strangled and dumped like a sack of potatoes.'

'Now Deidre,' Hawking gave her a cautionary glance, quickly followed with, 'delicious supper my love.'

'And what about the missing girl,' Mrs Hawking continued, 'how she could possibly survive this cold is beyond me.'

'I sent four officers to the asylum this afternoon, it made things very short on the beat.'

'No luck then?'

Hawking shook his head sadly. 'They were quite thorough, even cleared the snow from the grounds-man's hut so they could check inside. This woman, Ellinor her name was, she struck me as being a bit strange.'

'You think she might have made it up, about the girl going there?'

'Quite possibly.'

Hawking slowly added a spoonful of sugar to his tea. His eyes took in the room his wife had fussed over for hours. Paper streamers hung from the ceiling and he could smell the occasional waft of pine from the real tree. Christmas was fast approaching but if he could just find Lena, that really would be worth celebrating.

Alec closed the door to Mrs Gee's rooms and watched as she shed her jacket. The fire had been lit earlier and needed little encouragement to flare. Mrs Gee poured out two glasses of sherry before going downstairs to the kitchen. She soon returned with the cold cuts. She sat by Alec's feet and perhaps because of the sherry, told him how she'd been forced to wring a different fowl's neck that very morning.

'Silly thing was egg bound,' she said, 'I had no choice but to put it out of its misery. It's in the meat safe now, waiting to be plucked.' Alec became interested and sat forward to hear more.

'Did it struggle?' he asked, hiding a cruel grin behind the sherry glass.

'I don't enjoy it, but sometimes it needs to be done.' She kicked her shoes off daintily. 'Do excuse my manners,' she said, 'I'm not used to dancing.'

'That's quite alright Greta.'

He felt strangely closer to her than he'd thought possible. As if tonight he'd finally seen the real woman behind the accent. He looked down at her and she automatically checked her hair was in place.

'I wanted to ask you,' she began, 'are you happy here?'

'At Gentleman's Row? Why, yes I'm quite comfortable -'

'No, I didn't mean this house Alec, I meant England.' He took out his pipe and rubbed the bowl in his left palm.

'Well, I suppose so,' he said at last.

'Only there are a few things I want you to know, I feel they must be said.' Alec stopped playing with the pipe and nibbled on a chicken thigh. He sat forward in his seat. Mrs Gee paused while she took a small bite of meat and a large sip of sherry.

'My grandfather was born in St Petersburg,' she began, as if this explained everything.

'So, you are from Russian decent?' he said.

'Through my father's line, yes. Mother is from Belgium,' she continued, 'but she grew up in Germany with relatives.' Alec nodded, thinking how things were going from good to better.

'My grandfather defected to Germany and my father served and died there in the First World War, so in 1925 mother made plans for us to move here. Things were not so good in Germany, and although we had some property mother didn't feel safe.'

'And your husband?'

'I met him over here and married very young.' She lowered her voice. 'He died on active duty, a few years ago.'

'I'm sorry,' Alec offered, while she took another drink.

'Mother sold our house in Germany and with her life savings bought a shop before we moved to 8 Gentleman's Row,' Mrs Gee went on, 'and until the next war came we ran this place together, the three of us.'

Alec sat back again and began to fill his pipe. Nothing terribly remarkable about any of that, he thought. He wondered if he should mention his own war efforts. Then for a split second, he smelled the stale sweat of the drowned sailors and could hear their muffled, far away cries. He shook his head and blearily drained the sherry glass.

'But what I didn't know,' Mrs Gee was saying, 'until I visited the bank recently, was about a separate inheritance my father left me.' Alec sat upright.

'Oh?' he said casually. Mrs Gee had become excited, agitated even, had shed her cape and was now kneeling up in front of him.

'It was just a little key,' she explained, 'with a note saying: "the answer to your prayers". Mother told me the key was for a safety deposit box at the bank. I wasn't allowed to open it until after this September.'

'Why?'

'I found out when I got to the bank. There were papers saying it'd been requisitioned by the government after the war. It only came into my ownership when it was released.' Mrs Gee shifted on her knees and Alec smiled. He was drowsy, unable to comprehend any of it. 'He won it Alec, can you imagine that? He always was a gambler, but to have won it playing cards is just incredible.'

Alec was suddenly transfixed. Some of Mrs Gee's hair had come loose and she hadn't even noticed. Her eyes, luminous in the firelight, intoxicated him.

'Don't you see?' she said, taking his hands in hers, 'we could go there, live out our lives together and never want for anything.'

'Go where? Where is this place?' he urged.

'Didn't I say? It's near Frankfurt, in Germany. He won the whole thing in a card game!'

'But what did he win, Greta? You're not making much sense.'

Alec had hold of her arms and like a rag-doll she slumped laughing, into his lap. Perhaps it was a small farm, or some sort of business? He imagined living a life of toil, of grimy children and continual struggle instead of a decent career.

'Oh no, you don't understand.' She reached up and stroked his face. 'He made friends in high places before he died; he gambled cards with them and played the Hoppegarten races.'

Alec stood up and pulled her close, pressing his danger into her. 'What are you telling me?' He brushed his lips against her neck and sensed her deepened arousal. 'Are you secretly rich, Greta?'

'Not me Alec, _us_. Father won a chateau, twenty rooms stuffed full of antique furniture and priceless art.'

The words were breathed rather than spoken, as Alec pushed her limp frame against the wall. He saw the alarm in her eyes dissolve into desire as his hands ran over her body. Her scarlet fingertips combed his hair as she offered up her full lips. Cleverly, as if she'd practiced it, she undid her dress with one hand. The emerald crepe slid to the floor. His hands explored the flesh beneath her slip, feeling his way until he reached an ecstasy he never imagined possible. Their bodies rolled before the fire, the flames dancing on naked flesh until all hunger was extinguished.

Alec buried his head in her long, auburn locks. Finally, he slept and dreamt of the treasured Fatherland.

Sergeant Grimes had been awake all night, upset and frustrated about the missing child. He arrived at the station early, ready to re-examine all possible leads they had for Lena Crumbe's disappearance. A constable brought him a brew while he waded through statements and maps of already searched areas. He was partially convinced of Ellinor Girard's story. His officers had found no trace of the girl, but she could have dodged them. Wherever she was, if still alive, someone had to be helping her. The same constable put his head around the door, interrupting his deliberations.

'Governor wants to see you in his office Serge,' he said.

'Blimey, I thought I was early enough to escape him,' returned Grimes, getting up and heading for the door. Hawking sat at his desk, a fresh cup of tea by his side. Grimes sat down opposite and instinctively took out his note book.

'Morning Grimes,' said Hawking, glancing up at him, 'you know I can't help thinking we're missing something here.'

'About which particular case Sir?' Grimes returned.

'All of them. Apart from the poor little ones at the asylum.'

'Have you noticed how we always seem to end up there Gov? I can't stand the place.'

'I know the feeling.' Hawking tapped his pen on the table. 'This nurse, Rose Lowe, you say she's coming in today?'

'Yes, she's going to sit with Cecil, to try and keep him calm.'

'Didn't she make a statement not so long ago, something about missing drugs?'

Grimes swallowed hard. 'Sorry Gov, what with all the other things going on I haven't had the manpower to look into it yet.'

'That's fine,' Hawking waved a hand at his Sergeant, 'I'd like to question her again today. Let me know when she comes in will you?'

'You don't think she's involved, do you Sir?'

'Not really, but we'll see if her story changes from her original statement. Then we'll ask Cecil if he knows about any of it.'

'Right Gov,' Grimes headed off to look out Rose Lowe's original statement. The Inspector's thinking was beginning to make sense. But although Cecil had been picked out by the eye-witness the poor soul didn't look as if he could hurt a fly. It was imperative they get some proper sense out of him today.

Alec had been awake for some time. He heard Mrs Gee go downstairs and guessed she was preparing for breakfast. The fire was dying in the grate and he got up to tend it. He put on fresh coals and stoked the embers beneath to create a new blaze. He found some uneaten chicken, ripped a mouthful from the bone and chewed with satisfaction. He recalled some tasty morsels of information Greta had imparted during the night hours. He'd asked her who would run the boarding house if they moved to Germany together.

She told him about Ellen and Gloria and how they, of all people, needed the work and would be loyal and true. She said few would employ them, even for menial work. He kept to himself about knowing Hugo Crumbe. He needed a few secrets of his own. Minutes later Mrs Gee came in with a strong cup of tea. She sat beside the growing fire and looked straight into his eyes.

'As soon as I've finished this, I'll creep back to my room,' he said.

'You don't need to creep anywhere, ever,' she said with a smile, 'you can have whatever you want.' He steadied himself on one elbow, using the other hand to drink the scalding tea.

'Why me?' he said, 'do I remind you of your husband?'

'A little,' she mused, rocking on her hips, 'but I prefer to think fate has brought us together.'

Alec considered the chateau and treasures, the wealth and status. But most of all, the prime position to resurrect a glorious political party, one that held all his values dear, above anything else in the world.

'Of course,' he murmured in her ear.

'Then I must tell you, I have only one condition.' Mrs Gee paused for a moment and lowered her eyes. 'That is, to make me your wife.' Alec held her face as he kissed her. It was a small price to pay for a lifetime of wealth and power.

'Are you sure you can handle me?' he said, half mocking her. He felt her try to hide a thrilled shiver.

'I'll manage somehow.' Her viridian stare met his eyes.

'Then my love, I will leave you to suggest a nuptial date. Until then, I think we should keep all this to ourselves.'

'Couldn't I tell my mother?' she said.

'I suppose so, and I should meet her. Where does she live?'

'In the basement flat, she's Mademoiselle Girard.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 24**

Cecil wasn't coming back, Lena could tell. Somehow things had changed when that day in the hut, she'd awoken to the sound of men's voices. When she no longer heard them Lena crept to the window and peered out. All around the whiteout spread. The camouflaged landscape was softened with fresh snow cushions and bare branches shimmered like glitter. Cecil's hut was snowed in, the windows half covered while two feet of snow clung to the roof. Inside, Lena warmed herself by the fire and searched for scraps of food. Nobody saw her little face as she pressed it to the window.

All she found to eat was a stale crust of bread and an egg. She'd seen Cecil make french toast and was sure she could do the same. She warmed the griddle pan on the top of the stove, then coated the bread in beaten egg and fried both sides until it was golden brown. Lifting the pan off the stove, with care she tipped the bread onto a plate and dusted it with some sugar Cecil kept for their tea. Unsure of how to prepare tea, she poured a mug of water from the tap. The breakfast tasted good and was warm in her stomach. Lena cleared away as best she could and packed up her meagre belongings.

It was time to find a new hiding place. She pulled on her gloves and scarf, and the wellingtons Cecil had lent her when she built the snow fairie. These went on over her winter boots with room to spare. She knew the front door was impossible to open, so made her way to the back of the hut where all the tools were. The far wall had a window high in the eaves. Lena saw it was just open on the latch. It didn't take her long to find a stepladder, but while she cleared things out of the way she noticed a toy propped up on a box. It was squeezed into a corner, but Lena managed to wriggle under a coil of rope and over some old tools to reach it.

Most of its features and hair had been rubbed off where someone had loved it. Lena couldn't bear to put it back in the darkened space, so packed it in her rucksack. Only the head stuck out of the top, and in case this got cold she pulled her precious hat onto it. With the ladder in place and ready to go she climbed the rungs. The window opened easily, allowing her to climb through and down onto the roof of the wood-store. As her legs left the top rung Lena heard the ladder topple and crash to the floor. Jumping onto the wood-store she looked up to see the window slap shut. She launched herself into the soft snow and began to struggle through it.

Some distance away she detected the laundry house and beyond that, the little chapel. Setting her chin firm and stumbling at every step, slowly she made her way across the grounds.

It had taken all her energy for Marcia Crumbe to get to Gentleman's Row. She was determined to see Ellinor and Mademoiselle again about Lena's disappearance. Luckily the trains had been running, although delayed in many cases. Buses were unable to cope with the fresh snowfall that quickly turned to ice every night.

In the basement flat, Ellinor made coffee and gave Marcia sweet biscuits to revive her spirits. Mademoiselle sat in her usual chair swathed in a black dress and lace gloves. A crochet veil sat atop her thick white hair.

'I don't need biscuits,' Mrs Crumbe complained, stuffing lemon shortbread in her mouth, 'I need information. Do you know where my idiot child has gone?'

'Really Marcia,' Mademoiselle said, 'I know you must be anxious but we know nothing of this -'

'Ten to one you know more than you're letting on,' Mrs Crumbe continued, pointing an accusing finger at Ellinor. Mademoiselle rapped her walking stick in an attempt to gain some calm.

'This is nonsense.' she said.

'Let me hear it from her own lips,' Mrs Crumbe hissed. Ellinor slid into the room but kept close to the wall.

'I, I don't know any more than you do,' she said.

'Well, I happen to know you two were always in the kitchen or the garden whispering together. Probably conspiring against me! For all I know you could be hiding her here. How do you think this makes me look? People will say I'm a bad mother.' Mademoiselle and Ellinor exchanged glances.

'Haven't the police said anything?' Ellinor asked timidly.

'They're completely useless,' Mrs Crumbe spat out the words.

'Well if they can't find her -'

'That's enough Ellinor.' Mademoiselle sent her companion scuttling back to the kitchen. 'Really Marcia, this is too much. You will only draw more attention to yourself behaving in this way. We've told you all we know and we're both very sorry. You must see -'

'All I can see is neither of you want to help me,' Mrs Crumbe stormed, 'there will be hell to pay when Hugo hears about this.'

She pulled on her coat and strode out of the flat. Ellinor quietly washed the cups and saucers, but Mademoiselle made her way shakily to the garden doors. Gripping her sticks in one hand, with dogged determination she opened one up. Instantly a cold blast of air whipped through the rooms.

'Ah, no,' Ellinor began as she rushed to her side, 'you will become chilled. Come Mutti,' she said. Mademoiselle tore her arm away.

'I am not your mother!' she spat. Ellinor recoiled and a small tear fell from her waxy eyelid. The salty trail burned into her reddened skin.

'Cant you see I need time to think?' Mademoiselle's tone was no kinder. Ellinor marched from the room.

'Then do so,' she said, but uttered beneath her breath, 'because that is all you are good for now.'

Hummingbird ward was quiet as Alec wrote his notes. Under his strict instructions, Juliette León had been weaned off all her former medication and treatments. Now it was time to administer the second phase of his shock regime.

In the treatment room a nurse prepared an infusion of normal saline and insulin. A different nurse collected Juliette from the dining table. In the room she was ushered to a chair and pushed into it when she resisted.

'Now, now,' Alec said, 'you must sit tight while I insert a needle into your vein.'

'But I don't want it!' Juliette protested. She tried to stand up again.

'If you don't sit still we will have to restrain you,' Alec threatened. Juliette's eyes flashed as she remembered the months of cold baths and being tied to the bed in freezing, wet sheets. Reluctantly she put out her arm for Alec to inject.

'That's more like it,' he said, 'nurse, the infusion please.' Alec connected the tube to the cannula, now poking out from the inside of Juliette's elbow. He opened the tap to allow the drugs into her vein. The nurse used a bandage to keep her arm straight and the needle in place.

'This will make you sleepy,' he said, 'you may feel as if you are going to pass out. When you come round you will be back on the ward.'

Juliette's head began to swim as he said the words and it felt as if she were underwater. No longer able to sense her toes, she murmured, 'Why are you doing this?'

'She's losing consciousness,' Alec said, 'get ready with the glucose nurse.'

Juliette held her breath as she swam through the ice-cold water. Long years ago she'd been captured, there in the snow. Oozing from the makeshift bandage small drops of blood fell. Like berries they shone crimson on the whitened slope. The same place they were now held captive. It hadn't been long since the avalanche. She glanced to one side. She saw the hazel gaze of her love before they led him away. He sent her a kiss from his eyes, a deep embrace that entered her very soul.

He was her passion, her first and only love. Now, chilled with terror she felt the life within her quicken. From his seed, a new life grew. She vowed to carry this gift, to deliver it and cherish it forever. This child would be dearer than the Edelweiss that grew above the snow line, more thrilling than a downhill run, but more terrifying than anything she'd faced. Balanced on skis, with hands tied behind their backs, they shuffled onward at gunpoint.

Juliette remembered the _Ladder of Death_ , where smugglers sneaked in contraband across the mountains. Nearby and on a clear day, the sunny Bernese Alps could be seen in the distance. Months ago she'd flown down the Black Run in training, traversed the highest peak of La Dole which straddled the French and Swiss borders. But now they were going back to Germany, and she would never again have the chance to tell him how deeply she loved him, or how his budding flower grew within her.

Up ahead were huge alpines and the sun cast shadows on the bright, white snow. Under this canopy of trees the prisoners slid further and deeper into the shade. Buzzards circled overhead and crowed a forlorn song. Their captors laughed and smoked cigarettes while mocking their quarry. One of them made a move to push Juliette, but her love lunged forward and knocked him flying. The soldier delivered the butt of his rifle to her lover's stomach. Then they moved on, forever forward, struggling step by step on the uphill and sliding unbalanced on the downward slopes.

Dusk fell in the interview room and Sergeant Grimes flicked on the light switch. It had been a long day but now at last, they were getting somewhere. Nurse Lowe had given a fresh statement about the drug discrepancies which completely matched her original account. She'd then sat in with Cecil as the policemen questioned him about Dolly. At first Cecil was reluctant to speak at all apart from the repeated statement that he had _saved her_. Grimes signalled to Hawking and the two men left the room. Out in the corridor Grimes lit a smoke.

'It's just a thought Gov,' he said, 'but what if he's not talking about the woman Dolly? What if the Dolly he _saved_ was the toy doll the deceased carried around? After all, we never did find it.'

Hawking thought for a moment and nodded. 'Alright,' he said, 'we'll alter our line of questioning, and let's hope we make some headway.' Back in the interview room fresh tea arrived while Grimes headed the inquiries.

'You've told us how you saved the little dolly,' he told Cecil, 'but where did you put her?' Cecil looked up and a spark of recognition entered his eyes.

'In my outhouse.' he said simply.

Grimes shot a look at Hawking, who leant back in his chair. 'Can you remember where in your outhouse?' he asked.

'I had to save her,' Cecil said, almost pleading.

'Why?' Hawking interjected, 'what was so important about the doll?' Cecil looked at Rose then down at his own hands.

'I kept it safe for him,' he said.

Hawking took in an audible breath. 'And can you tell us who _he_ is?'

'Charge Nurse Stanley,' Cecil rolled out, making Rose gasp.

'Right.' Grimes sat forward, his elbows on the table. 'So you were going to give the doll back to Nurse Stanley, is that right?'

'Well, I couldn't,' Cecil said, 'he's been on holiday.'

'I think we need another search of the outhouse Gov,' Grimes said, turning to Hawking.

'All in good time,' his boss replied, 'what we really need to know is why this doll is special.'

'Yes, it's a special doll,' volunteered Cecil, 'Dolly lends it to Charge Nurse Stanley and he gives it to me.'

'And then?' Grimes urged.

'Then I take the doll to the east door.'

'That door is usually locked isn't it?' Hawking said, 'But you have the key, isn't that so?'

'Yes. I unlock the door and pass the doll to a man. He takes something out of it and gives it back.'

'And then you return it to Stanley?'

'Yes, and after that he gives it back to Dolly, except,' Here Cecil faltered. He rocked in the chair and his mouth trembled.

'Except for what, what happened?' Grimes couldn't help raising his voice.

'Except something went wrong,' Cecil said, tears dripping down his face.

****~~~****

**Chapter 25**

It took some time for Rose to calm Cecil, but now they were eating sandwiches together with her repeatedly assuring him that none of this was his fault.

'Poor sod's been used, Gov,' Grimes said back in Hawking's office, 'stitched up like a kipper.'

'Uniform are phoning the asylum, and we should have an address for this Stanley character pretty soon. I've applied for the warrant; as soon as we know where he lives we can arrest him.'

'Good,' Grimes replied, 'and if we can find the doll there may be some evidence left inside it. I'm guessing either drugs or money.'

'Let's hope that's the case,' Hawking sighed, 'it seems Rose Lowe was right to be suspicious, although she had no idea how the drugs were peddled.'

'What do you think happened Gov?' Hawking rubbed the back of his neck and ran his fingers through what hair he had.

'That's a good question.' he said. 'Perhaps Dolly got fed up with her doll being taken away? It would seem the transactions were becoming more frequent.'

'And Stanley tried to tempt cooperation by giving her the dress?' Grimes offered.

'But what she really wanted was the doll. In any case it looks like something triggered Stanley to kill her. For all we know he might have been using drugs as well.'

'Maybe,' Grimes said, 'afterwards he must have rolled her in the sheet, and got Cecil to dump her in the bomb hole.'

'That's about it for the moment. I do believe Cecil has told the truth, but it will make our life a lot easier if Stanley confesses.'

It had been difficult finding somewhere to hide the laundry basket. But getting out of the wash house had proved trickier. The windows were set high in the roof and although could be opened with a handle, it was not possible to reach them. Eventually Wilbur had sprung the lock on the main door with a screwdriver found in a drawer.

'They won't trace it back to us,' he told Daniel, 'once we've hidden the basket we can get on the ward before lights out.'

'We can say we've been out for a walk,' Daniel continued adding, 'it wouldn't be a lie.'

The two lifted the basket and carried it over the snow. When they reached the back wall of Lorikeet, Wilbur pointed to a battered door. Daniel opened it and found an array of old mops and buckets, full of cobwebs and long since forgotten.

'Just the job!' he said, helping Wilbur upend the basket so it fitted into the space. They wedged the door shut using the same screwdriver at ground level. Then with lighted cigarettes they sidled to the ward door.

Suddenly Daniel stopped dead in his tracks. 'What's up Dan?' Wilbur said, taking a step back to his friend.

'I-I thought I saw something. Like a dragonfly.' Daniel's look of bewilderment made Wilbur chuckle.

'It's the wrong time of year for dragonfly's old man,' he said, 'probably just a play of the light.' Daniel had to agree. Wordlessly he stamped out his cigarette in icy sludge at the back door.

'We're just in time for cocoa,' he said, with a wry curl of his lips.

The ward was more relaxed than usual, the staff almost in festive mood. The men collected their cocoa and unchallenged, retreated to their beds. Daniel sipped the sweet hot liquid. It was thin, made with water and not milk but provided comfort nonetheless. He relaxed back onto the pillow and closed his eyes.

Her face was altogether clear now, the curl of her smile, the bright spark in her eyes and her long, glossy hair. He remembered the mission. All three had parachuted in near the mountain base below the Eagles Lair. He, Godfrey and Wilbur were dressed as German mountain troupes, but only Godfrey spoke fluent German. Daniel quickly unstrapped the radio he carried and stowed it in a shallow cave under a pile of rocks. Prepared with climbing ropes they began the ascent to complete Operation Eavesdrop.

This involved infiltrating the seven houses built for the Third Reich outside the Eagle's Lair castle. The main mission involved escorting the inside man - a spy, back to a safe house. Here the allied forces could intercept and return him to England. Using the radio hidden in the cave it was essential that any information be transmitted back to London as soon as possible. All of them were under no illusion they might fail partially or at worst, completely in the mission.

Daniel turned onto his side. He tried to conjure her face again, but all he saw was the threatening mountain stretched out above. With his comrades he managed to infiltrate five of the seven houses. All were searched rapidly but gave up no secrets. It was late afternoon and the men supposed the officers housed there were now at the castle. At the sixth house Daniel remembered seeing a young girl in Bavarian style dress. She was putting clothing away in one of the bedrooms while the squad waited nervously outside. Wilbur slid along the side wall in time to see her leave in her headscarf and coat. Godfrey searched this place while the other two kept guard. They began to feel despondent and realised they would need to scale the castle wall after all.

Their man, later known to them as Hans Ackermann, had been compiling intelligence for England's MI6 since the early thirties. Then he had only suspicions about Germany's goal for world dominance. But as time went on he began to gather evidence to back his fears. Ackermann worked in the oil industry buying raw materials from other countries to be processed and stockpiled ready for the war machine. Native to Austria he moved swiftly through the industry ranks and then held a highly responsible job working for and with, the Third Reich. Ackermann had the locations of key refineries and factories hidden in his memory. It was the teams' job to get these recorded as map locations to be used by Bomber Command.

But first they had to find him.

Lena didn't want to be found. It felt like she'd been away from home for so long that it no longer existed, along with her parents, Nancy, Horace and June. She thought about her bedroom and wondered if some other child might have moved into it by now. She no longer thought about sweets or craved for them. But she was very hungry, and since the french toast the previous day had eaten nothing. The chapel was at least dry and afforded some shelter, but it wasn't warm, and Lena was unable to stay awake.

A noise alerted her and she sat up in the cramped hiding place. Her head thumped on the altar as footsteps met her ears. They seemed to be getting closer. A voice said, 'Is anyone there?' It was a thick rich voice Lena had heard before, in the sweet shop on the occasional late afternoon.

'Don't be frightened.' said the voice. Lena moved as slowly as possible but forgot about the haversack on her back. It scraped along the leg of the altar and the cloth was lifted up. Looking at her was a pretty lady with a big white smile.

'Are you hiding or playing?' Ellen said jovially. Lena thought for a while and decided honesty would be the best policy.

'I'm very hungry.' she said. Ellen burst into peals of laughter.

'How long have you been under that cloth child?' she said, holding out her hand. Lena took hold of Ellen's fingers and slid out from under the altar.

'I fell asleep, so I can't be sure,' Lena began.

'Now don't you fret,' Ellen said, 'if you come with me I got food and a nice warm place for you to shelter.'

'Promise you won't tell anyone about me?' Lena urged.

'I won't tell.'

'Cross your heart,' Lena insisted, until Ellen crossed herself.

At the wash house Ellen took Lena to the back of the building where all the baskets were kept. She fetched her packed lunch and thermos flask and made sure the child ate and drank before she fell asleep on a pile of blankets. Ellen didn't notice one of the baskets had gone. At lunchtime she went over to the canteen, prompting comments that they didn't usually see her. She pretended having forgotten her lunch and being extra hungry needed to take a tray to the wash house to keep up to speed with the laundry.

She gave her helpers time off while she delivered the food to Lena. She had to wake her but once Lena saw the feast on offer she insisted they share what was there. Ellen needed to get back to the vats of washing and foam, but before leaving noticed the doll poking out of Lena's haversack.

'What's her name?' she asked Lena.

'I don't know, I-I found her.'

'I like her hat,' Ellen said, adding, 'I'll be back in a couple of hours, so try to sleep.'

Lena sat up on the blankets and pulled the doll out of the bag. Then she lay down and snuggled the toy into her. It was lovely and warm in the wash house and Ellen had been so nice. Sleepily, she pulled out her exercise book and pencil from the bag. But before she had time to write anything down she dropped into slumber.

When Ellen arrived home Gloria was preparing parsnip soup and toast for supper. The room was illuminated by two gas lamps along with a meagre fire in the grate.

'You look very pleased with yourself,' Gloria said, greeting her sister with a hug. 'Mrs Gee would say the cat has got the cream.'

'I made a new friend today,' Ellen said with bright eyes, 'I'm hiding her in the laundry house.'

'Oh no sister, not more stories, please.'

'It's true I tell you,' Ellen protested, 'she ran away from home and needs to hide. It's like a game.' Gloria shot a look of contempt towards her and found the newspaper the parsnips had been wrapped in. She pulled out a page that had drawn her attention earlier.

'Is this the girl?' she asked, showing her a picture of a younger, plumper Lena.

'Yes, that's her, _Lena_.' Ellen thought for a minute. 'She's thinner though, but it is her. Have I done something bad?'

Gloria turned on her. 'This isn't a game; she belongs to her parents. You'll have to tell the police.'

Ellen began to cry. 'Oh, please don't make me, I promised I would look after her.'

'Don't you realise people have been looking for her? By now they probably think she's dead.'

'Then one more night won't make any difference surely?' Ellen pleaded. 'I promise to go to the police in the morning, first thing.'

'On your way to work?'

'Yes, I'll go on my way, I can show them where she is then.' Gloria sat down beside the fire and thought. Ellen took off her shoes and stockings and hung them out to dry on the clothes horse. Quietly she pulled on some slippers and sat down beside Gloria.

'Don't be cross,' Ellen said, her words whispered. Gloria saw her sadness. She noticed her sore, reddened hands from the work and the stoop in her tired shoulders. Tears formed in her own eyes as her heart softened.

'In the morning then.' She dished out the soup. Ellen bounced up and kissed her cheek before turning to her supper.

All evening while Gloria did the mending, Ellen looked at the fire's dying embers and smiled. For one night at least, she had something that was all her own to keep.

It was pitch black when Sergeant Grimes led his men to the outhouse. Superintendent Marsh joined them having stayed back after five o'clock to let them in the front gates. Cecil hadn't been available to clear many of the paths so the going was laboured. The north wind blew an icy sleet into the men's faces, stinging their eyes and skin. Eventually they reached the outhouse. Some of the officers were carrying shovels and as before they dug the snow from the door. Others held up storm lamps using both hands to keep the lights from swinging in the wind.

Jeremy Marsh stood grim-faced as the work progressed. He'd been shocked and saddened to hear about the charges against Nurse Stanley. All along convinced it was Cecil who had killed Dolly, only tonight had he informed Grimes of Cecil's history. The story of his father and grandfather was surprising enough, but to learn of four generations of men working at the same asylum caused even Grimes to raise his eyebrows. Marsh said Silas Tench had been Cecil's great grandfather, that Cecil had probably shifted Dolly in the same barrow Silas used to transport the children.

With a squealed shudder the swollen door was forced open. One by one the officers entered, Grimes allowing Marsh to go ahead of him. Silently, the men moved to the back room where Cecil said he'd put the doll. The fallen ladder was put right and the store area searched with a fine toothcomb but no doll was found. It was difficult to see by the light of the storm lamps, but one of the men pointed out a hanging window latch in the roof, along with the upset ladders.

'Two men, round the back pronto.' Grimes ordered.

The despatched officers returned with news of footprints, those of a man's wellingtons that were now partly filled with snow. It seemed as if they were headed towards the church. Marsh and Grimes exchanged glances.

'Right, truncheons at the ready men, and keep a look out for Stanley,' Grimes advised, 'we'll make for the chapel.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 26**

Deep within the hollowed tree Queen Mab deliberated with Sapphire. She was growing tired of waiting for Pan's answer, but was reluctant to wage war on his kingdom until he'd had a chance to decide his fate. Mab stretched her filigree wings and they fluttered momentarily as she thought. More than anything she valued her fairies Natural Law; that everything and everyone should live in balance and peace. But she also knew Pan prized the chaos and disorder of negativity. It was by this law that he ruled his realm and the Queen doubted he could ever really change.

Sapphire waited patiently for orders at the entrance of the royal abode. Mab buzzed around the room, stopping every now and then as if she'd hatched a fresh plan. Eventually though, she returned to her throne and rested her arms on her wand. By and by, she dozed into a light slumber.

Lately Violet and Amber had reported seeing unusual activity in the grounds. The same girl-child had been spotted. At the time she'd been walking towards the chapel. They'd also seen some patients and strange human men wearing tall hats and dark clothes. The sentinel fairies were ordered by Mab to watch over the child and protect her from any harm. They had strict instructions to report back any change in developments.

Later they followed uniformed men in the grounds. Concerned the child might be discovered the fairies pulled back a huge tree bough. It soaked the entire group with snow. They watched as the men withdrew. Drenched, the officers decided to resume their search next morning. Amber and Violet then made a spot check on the child and found her fast asleep. The next day the worker was early at the laundry. Carrying extra blankets, she walked the child to the chapel before starting her day's work. The fairies knew they were not the only ones looking out for Lena.

Queen Mab had fallen into slumber, and Sapphire tucked a pillow of the softest moss under her royal head. There was just one day left for Pan to deliver his answer. If he failed to do so the Queen would have no alternative but to wage war on him and all his subjects. As Sapphire folded her wings away sorrow entered her eyes. She for one had no wish to go into battle.

The cruel north wind blew yet more snowfall over London. The Thames, where mud-larks had scrambled for pennies that summer was iced at the shore and slowed to a sickening sludge. Engineers worked around the clock to keep the trains running while teams of volunteers swept driveways, paths and roads. Milk iced up on doorsteps and popped like mushrooms out of bottle necks. Icicles dropped and splintered under their own weight. Even the pigeons went into hiding, only appearing when kindly passers-by threw scraps of crusts or suet.

Traffic was muffled but creaks and groans signalled roofs of snow that slid to the ground. People had to dodge such forces of gravity. Women laden with shopping baskets slipped and fell on icy pavements, sometimes breaking a wrist or ankle. The papers reported pandemonium as the nation became gripped in the big freeze. The blizzards promised not only a white Christmas but not much chance of getting beyond the front door, either.

Hugo Crumbe cleared away the snow from his shop door and wondered if he would get any customers. His pale eyes narrowed behind thick lenses. There were only a few days left before the holiday. Christmas day was next Monday, meaning a long weekend off. The police rang to say they'd stepped up the search for Lena, but it was unlikely they would find her. Sergeant Grimes had visited the shop and spoken to him and Marcia when the child first went missing. Marcia gave them the names of her friends as well as Mademoiselle's address, but Lena was not to be found. He and Marcia kept Lena's punishments from Sergeant Grimes. If she'd gone to the city centre she would probably join the many homeless waifs and strays.

He hadn't seen Alec Silver since their last conversation. Contrary to donating the handgun, Crumbe had secreted it in his desk drawer. As if he distrusted Silver, he'd also made a few of his own enquiries about the man. He found nothing to suppose a potential problem. Nevertheless, it was with prudence that Crumbe held on to the gun while he considered his own future. He stamped the snow off his shoes and went inside.

The day provided no customers until after lunch, when quite out of the blue Edward Fade called at the shop. Crumbe took him through to the parlour and poured out two whiskies.

'What brings you over here in this weather?' Crumbe said, peering at Fade and handing him a drink.

'Thought I'd kill two birds with one stone, if you'll pardon the expression,' Fade began. He watched Crumbe's face harden. 'I need cigarettes and tobacco, and I've saved my coupons for some candies for the family.'

'Very well,' Crumbe said efficiently, 'I will make up an order for you with pleasure.' He continued, 'Tell me, have you seen anything of our friend Doctor Silver?'

'Why no,' Fade smiled. 'But I've had a business meeting that concerned him.'

'Oh? You know he was caught up in that murder enquiry, the body in the bomb-hole, the papers called it.'

'Really? No I didn't realise that.' Fade finished his drink with a gulp. 'It's strange though,' he began.

'Let me fill your glass,' Crumbe said, snatching it and pouring a full measure before his comrade could object.

'Thanks, old man,' Fade said, 'I say, you don't think he's up to something do you?'

'What makes you say that?' Crumbe passed the glass. Fade took a swig of whisky and his words started to slur.

'Shouldn't really say, client confidentiality and all that, but perhaps you should be aware of this. He's recently come into a substantial amount of property.'

'That sort of news is always of value to the Movement, Edward.' Fade puffed out his chest.

'Well it's just he's a bit of an oddball, leaving the Movement and coming back after the war claiming to have done things for the Fatherland.'

'Such as?' Crumbe removed his spectacles and wiped them with a handkerchief.

'He claims to have scuttled his own submarine - it's as if he's out to impress us. Showing off, that's what I call it.' Crumbe returned to the matter in hand.

'But how did he come by this..,property?' Fade took out a cigarette and tried to light it.

'His landlady, a Mrs Gee has left it to him, the whole jolly lot. And between you and me it will make him an overnight millionaire.'

'I know of this woman,' Hugo said, his face still hard. 'I didn't realise she had that wealth. Is it some sort of mansion?'

'More of a castle, old man. A chateau, and in Germany you know.' Crumbe slammed his glass down on the sideboard, making Fade jump.

'But think how such a property could assist the Movement! And in Germany, it could be used as a headquarters, a place where we could plan operations, rallies..,' He set his jaw into a contorted grimace. Fade raised a shaky hand.

'You don't need to convince me,' he said, glancing away, 'the question is, is he panning to run off and keep it a secret?'

The day had not started well for Inspector Hawking. Grimes had taken three officers to search the chapel, after which they checked every corner of the laundry room and store. Their efforts produced nothing while back at the station enquiries the previous day led to the whereabouts of Stanley. His landlady gave a forwarding address where he was supposed to be on holiday, but further investigation proved this was false. Grimes checked in with Hawking that morning but got sent straight back out to organise a watch on the asylum.

'He's having a right laugh at our expense,' Hawking said, gulping tea and dipping half a garibaldi biscuit into the remaining fluid. 'I want a man on the main gates and another one at the side door, locked or otherwise. I'm hoping he's going to turn up for the doll, that he needs what's inside it.'

'Yes Gov,' Grimes replied.

'Round the clock mind. I know, the weather is horrific, give the men four hours watch at a time and tell them to wear two pairs of socks. I'm certain Stanley's our murderer and I want him caught.'

'Yes Gov,' Grimes said.

'And somebody get me another cup of tea!'
A harassed looking constable brought in a fresh brew. 'It would be right on top of Christmas wouldn't it?' Hawking complained, while the young officer looked at his boots. 'Never mind lad, you carry on. And keep your eyes peeled at all times while you're on watch.'

'Yes Sir.' The constable saluted and scuttled off.

With the help of Rose Lowe, Cecil eventually managed to explain what had gone wrong on the day of the drug transfer. Dolly as usual had lent him her doll while Cecil waited for the outsider at the side door. The man turned up and took the drugs from the doll. He placed the money inside the head. But instead of returning the doll the man ran off with it, laughing as he went. Dolly became distraught at the loss of her doll and it was about this time Hawking knew she'd been murdered. Days later Cecil found the doll in a shrub where he supposed the outsider had lobbed it over the asylum wall.

But by now Stanley had gone on holiday and with no Dolly around Cecil stowed the toy at the back of the outhouse. He thought it would be safe there until Stanley came back. He was only following orders, he said. His forefathers had all followed orders and never questioned them. Perhaps it only caused trouble in the end.

Hawking placed his pen on Dolly's file. One thing was for sure, if they didn't make some sort of progress soon he would get it in the neck from above. Now he had officers on watch at the asylum but what if the killer had already returned? He knew the place well so might just be hiding out in the building. He called the Desk Sergeant.

'Get me Jeremy Marsh on the blower will you?' he said. 'I think it's time we searched Moorvale from the inside out.'

Mrs Gee sent Gloria home early, requesting she arrive ahead of time the following day. Still at the kitchen table she finished her coffee. All the Christmas food had been delivered from the World Stores, the butcher and the greengrocer. The Pink sisters were spending the break with their parents in Essex, while Mr Drayton was going to stay with his cousin in Pinner. She and Alec would make a cosy twosome, while her mother and Ellinor would do as always and dine in their flat. Gloria had bought a rabbit from the butcher for her curry, and Mrs Gee said how awful that sounded, but it was up to Gloria, she supposed. Earlier that day the girl had threatened to bring in some of the recipe for her to try.

Mrs Gee stood on the back-door step and lit a cigarette. Between her lacquered fingernails it glowed bright and jewel-like in the icy wind. She put the smoke between her lips and thought about Alec Silver. He promised to bring a special licence home which should allow them to marry sooner, rather than later. Mrs Gee hoped the registry office had a spare appointment for them sometime after the New Year.

She'd prepared all the paperwork, the documents from Edward Fade as well as the original deeds to the Chateau. With these she put the official letter from the war office, informing her of Bert's death in the war. It was all in the desk drawer in her personal lounge. But she had a more taxing duty yet to execute. She would have to tell her mother about the wedding, and it couldn't be put off for much longer. The marriage first, then after Christmas she might broach the more delicate subject of moving to Germany. To soften the blow she could ask if Mademoiselle was willing to go with them, taking Ellinor to continue as her companion.

She stubbed out her cigarette on the frozen doorstep and closed the door. Mrs Gee made her way to the basement flat on the other side of the hallway. She waited outside for a moment, tidied her hair before knocking. She could hear the clunk of Mademoiselle's stick as it fell, and the old woman cursing in her mother tongue. Instead of Ellinor, Mademoiselle appeared at the door.

'Oh, its you,' she said, 'you'd better come in.'

'Where's Ellinor?' asked Mrs Gee.

'Gone to the chemist,' Mademoiselle almost snorted, 'but now you're here you can make me a hot coffee.'

Her face stung in the north wind and her feet dragged on paving stones as Ellinor made her last tortured yards to the police. She had to see Inspector Hawking, had to deliver her story before anything else happened. Her scarf tight around her face she flung the door open and staggered into the hallway. The desk sergeant came out and took her arm.

'Now, now,' he said, 'how can I assist, madam?' He motioned for her to sit while she caught her breath.

'I must see Inspector Hawking,' she managed.

'Oh, I don't think that's possible,' said the sergeant, but noticed her distraught expression. 'I'll just go and see if anyone's free.' He tapped on Hawking's door and opened it a fraction. The Inspector was putting the phone down.

'Can you believe it,' Hawking said, 'I've just spoken to Marsh at the asylum and he insists on a search warrant! Can you organise it Norman?'

'Right away Sir, but there's someone here asking for you,' he moved inside the office before he added, 'it's that woman again, the one with the face.'

'Oh God,' Hawking said, pulling on his collar, 'not her again.'

'She seems, well, very upset sir.'

Hawking thought for a moment. 'Well, I suppose I've got a bit of time while we wait for the warrant to come through. Very well, show her to the interview room. Give me five minutes, and bring in some tea will you? She's probably perished.'

'Sir.' The policeman exited, leaving Hawking to tidy his papers.

Tea was waiting when he found his way to the interview room. Ellinor was sat bolt upright, a tense look in her eyes and the scarf still knotted firmly over her face. When she saw Hawking she visibly relaxed and loosened the coverings.

'Hello again Miss Girard,' Hawking began, 'I've only got a short while so go straight ahead and tell me why you are here.' Ellinor coughed softly, took a gulp of tea.

'It's a long story, Inspector.'

'Well can't you condense it?' he said, losing patience.

'I, I suppose so.' Ellinor sat forward and leant on the table. 'I wanted to tell you I know the history of the child Lena.'

'Yes,' Hawking said, 'you told me you know her, she spoke to you about the asylum.'

'That's right,' Ellinor said, dropping her gaze, 'but I also know she came here as a baby, no more than a few weeks old.'

'A lot of families moved around in the war.' Hawking took a gulp of tea and a bite of biscuit to calm his nerves.

'I know Inspector, but what I'm trying to say is, this was..,' Ellinor searched for the correct word, 'kidnap.'

'Kidnap?' Hawking echoed. 'Have you any proof of this?'

'Yes, that is, I should have done this long ago but I wish now to confess.' She drew in a deep breath as Hawking looked on aghast. 'You see, I was involved so I have to tell you. The kidnapper is my brother.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 27**

At dusk, Stanley scanned the asylum grounds again. Leaving his original hiding place in the old servant rooms he'd climbed higher into the roof space to avoid discovery. From his watch point in the roof turret he noticed the laundry woman Ellen usher a small girl to and from the chapel, seemingly to keep her concealed.

He rubbed the grimy window and peered once more. Now the woman was leading the child from the chapel, back into the laundry. Stanley gasped as something caught his eye. In the half light he detected a toy's head sticking out of the haversack. He craned his neck to follow the fading figures as they entered the wash house. Then he sat on the hard floor. Slowly he ate some of the stale bread he'd found that morning, flung onto the snow for the birds.

Dawn was the only time he dared to venture out, when he picked up scraps and collected ice for drinking. But earlier that day he'd taken a chance. Outside the stone wall he telephoned his boss. It had been risky, to say the least. He'd found the east door locked, and he didn't dare try the main gate. After finding a length of rope in Cecil's hut, with great difficulty he scaled the wall. He used a tree on the asylum side to hitch the rope to, but had to jump several feet down to the pavement.

He rubbed his legs between bites of stale, cold bread. In the phone box he reversed the charges before speaking to Hugo Crumbe. He kept his face hidden and his coat collar up as he told Crumbe of his failure to find the doll. His orders were to go back and keep looking. Stanley demanded protection but Crumbe had little sympathy. He told him things might be different if he hadn't bumped off the woman patient. As it was he must resume his search but stay hidden. Stanley rushed back to his place where the rope lay and sneaked back to the attic during a short blizzard. Now hours later, he was still drying out.

A rasping splutter hacked at his lungs. Before first light he would be up and waiting by the laundry. He would catch the girl as the woman led her across to the chapel. Unlikely it was the same doll, at the moment it was all he had. He took a drink of melted ice, huddled into a ball. A cold draught ripped through the turret, disturbing hibernating bats. A rat appeared and sniffed the dusty floor for breadcrumbs. Stanley closed his hands into fists and shoved them in his coat pockets. He felt for his knife. He had no qualms about using the blade if the morning brought any problems.

Everything was in place for their escape. Daniel winked at Wilbur as they drank the last watery cocoa they would ever have to endure. Once out of Moorvale they were determined never to go back in.

Daniel turned onto his back and imagined his future. The two had agreed to stay together once out of the asylum, travelling north to Middlesex. A quick break was planned here with a distant cousin of Wilbur's. He was elderly, a bit of a drinker and knew nothing of their admission to the asylum. After a couple of days they would head for Scotland. Wilbur had another aged relative on the Isle of Skye, where they intended to settle and recuperate. Wilbur was in favour of setting up a fishing business, but neither knew much about the sea, fish or boats.

Operation Eavesdrop drifted to his mind, with the location of the Eagles Lair. He remembered searching for Hans Ackermann. After no luck in any of the cottages, they scaled the castle wall. The three gained entry through a lower window and along a narrow, winding corridor. This passage led to the kitchens and wine cellars. The men hid for a short while in a storeroom. Godfrey and Daniel planned a route to the second floor. Here they discovered a dining room full with members of the Third Reich. They burst in with guns aimed and commanded all diners, including Ackermann, rise to their feet.

One by one they grudgingly obeyed until one of the attendants took a chance shot at Daniel. The bullet missed, but all hell broke out. Men drew their weapons and ordered the British officers to raise their hands. All would have been lost but just in the nick of time Wilbur showed up. He sprang from the dumb waiter in one leap and smashed a Nazi about to shoot Godfrey. Seconds later all the enemy weapons were collected up and Ackermann was taken on the pretence of being held hostage.

Under gunfire the team returned to their entry point and abseiled Ackermann to the mountain base. Here they sent a hasty message to Allied HQ, informing them _'The cat is in the bag.'_ Still in their German disguises, they requisitioned a car and drove at speed to the nearest safe house. Hans Ackermann was taken in and given safe passage back to England. He helped the War Office to pinpoint many bases and munitions factories as targets for allied destruction. But it was not as straightforward for the team of three. Their orders were to report in to Sebastien's resistance cell at Strasbourg, where they would be given passage to Basel. From here they were to travel across the Jura Mountains into unoccupied France, south of Geneva.

Daniel shifted to one side as the memories returned. The way her eyes sparkled and how her long hair flew out, shining against the snow. The skiing was a real challenge with ascent and decent usually on poorly groomed trails. At times they were so completely isolated he began to think he might have imagined the war. Rugged sections beyond the tree line were completely inaccessible, but he remembered picking her Edelweiss above the snow line. She placed it in her pocket while declaring to achieve this was the mark of a real soldier.

Days later, the terrain flattened out before descending to habitation. Daniel recalled the only advantage to cross-country exhaustion was forgetting about his balance. Because of this he relaxed and gained extra speed in the downhill run. The trees became sparse along a track which opened into huge clearings of soft hummocks. It was near this point they were intercepted by a mountain troop, no doubt suspicious of their movements and of the girl who led them.

Daniel pressed his face into the pillow so nobody would see him weep. She was gone, and with her his only hope for true love had vanished. Tomorrow he would start a fresh mission, the beginning of a new life where nobody would ever learn his past. He drew in a deep, sore sigh, and her loss weighed like a burden through his heart deep into his soul.

Queen Mab reclined on her throne while attendants covered her with a softened leaf. The sun had been set for some time, and still she'd heard nothing from the infuriating Pan. If this continued she would have no choice but to wage war on the bomb hole. All the fairies in her realm felt this discord and stayed pinned to their posts. Only Sapphire, Lotus and Birch remained in the royal chamber while their monarch agonised over her final decision.

Disturbed at the prospect of possible war, it seemed the riddle was too difficult for the inept Pan. She remembered it now, word for word: _What princess lies high above the ground within a wooden tower, unconscious in her tomb?_ She also remembered her first rule of Natural Law. Surely even _he_ would not drive her to such a deadly choice? Mab rested her beautiful head on the throne, and continued to deliberate well into the night.

Lord Pan was very late. He rushed towards the asylum wall, carried on his chariot of bark pulled by winged arachnoids. Below he could see his followers scrambling to keep up. All forms of crawling creatures such as beetles, ants, millipedes and lice formed a thick trail along the frozen earth. The slower beasts such as slugs and worms were carried along by the ants. Pan's pipes flew out behind him as the flying spiders rose to scale the wall. They were nearly there. He wondered how he would find Mab; beautiful and seductive, or fearsome and terrible.

The entourage made its way past the churchyard and chapel. Pan's horns sparkled in the light of the moon as he skirted a corner, flying over the wash house. He sped over the snowy courtyard where nothing grew and along the south wall of Lorikeet Ward.

Perhaps he was too late. Up ahead and just visible as the clouds parted he saw the first sentinels. Aloft, they held their places with bows drawn, ready to fire. Pan swallowed and reached back for his pipes. Quickly he blew a tune of enchantment, momentarily putting them off guard. He had but a few seconds to make it to the royal chamber and present his case.

After that, he knew it was all up to the Queen.

Through a lacework of cloud the sun offered her first, weakened rays. As the asylum gates opened a motor ruptured the silence. The food van trundled onto the drive and rounded the gravel path towards the wards. The driver was careful not to skid on the pathway, recently iced with a fresh flurry. The van stopped outside the kitchens, already busy preparing the breakfast trolleys. The driver met a cook at the doorway and handed her a clipboard with the delivery list. He opened the van doors and positioned a ramp for the safe unloading of meat, fish and vegetables.

From his watch point Stanley strained to see the laundry house. He was cold, hungry and his cough had grown worse. But he was ready to move. He pushed the knife into his sock and pulled a hat low onto his head. Very soon he noticed Ellen turn up for work. She was earlier than usual. Stanley watched her enter the laundry, then with all the energy he could muster made his way shakily down the attic stairs.

Outside the wind bit into his face and his stomach crawled with pain. Every cough was like a splinter driven through his lungs, and he put a hand up to silence the hacking blasts. Stumbling through the snow as close to the wall as possible, Stanley saw Ellen lead the child to the chapel. The laundry girl soon emerged and made her way back to begin work. Slowly but deliberately, he moved behind the wash house and made the short run to the church.

Juliette had awoken early and was washed and dressed before six. She hadn't really slept, instead had been overtaken by strange thoughts. Her legs were still weak and her appetite had dampened but thankfully she'd not had to endure another insulin session. The night nurse was still on duty but had left the ward for a moment.

Juliette walked the length of sleeping bodies, past the dining table to the back door. She knew it was usually locked but tried the handle anyway. It opened. Without really knowing why, she stepped outside and stood for a minute or two breathing in the fresh, icy air. She wore no coat but had a cotton scarf over her head as was customary for females. She pulled the thin hospital cardigan higher up her neck and thought how nice a day for a walk in the grounds.

Light drifts began to fall, tiny dry flakes that formed a film of white over her form. She looked towards the dull sunlight and caught some snow on her face. She giggled, wondered if she really were alive, or if the shock treatment had killed her. A long way off across the expanse of white she could see someone. Maybe the one who'd recently died, and she was in heaven after all. But Juliette really believed she was dead when a tiny angel flew up and spoke to her.

It said, _'Do not be afraid, for all you desire is here.'_

Mab dressed in her battle armour. Her war wand had been specially polished before Sapphire placed it in her hands. A grim look crept across the Queen's features as she stretched her wings. Hours had passed since Pan's allotted deadline.

'You know it is with great regret I take us to war,' Mab said, 'this is indeed a sorry day for our fairie realm.'

'We are at your command,' Sapphire returned, 'we dutifully do as you bid.' Mab placed her tendril fingers on Sapphire's slim shoulder. The Queen's eyes had become misted. She turned away, just as Pan's upper torso burst into the chamber.

'Queen Mab,' he panted, squeezing inside the space, 'I beg you to grant me an audience. I know I am very late, but I have your answer.'

'You mean to tell me you've solved my riddle?' she said, an astonished expression dawning on her face. Pan winced slightly, and tried to straighten up.

'I've half solved it,' he said. Mab appeared unimpressed; however she sat down and placed her wand at her feet.

'It's a hibernating lizard.' He looked at her appealingly.

'Incorrect.' Mab snapped. 'It is a virgin queen bee.'

'But that's a queen, not a princess,' Pan objected, 'you cheated.'

'And you are more than late, and with a wrong answer.'

Pan hung his head, not for the first time in front of the Queen. Mab thought he looked almost likeable now he was beaten and crestfallen.

'Would it be so objectionable for your kingdom to join us?' she asked. Pan scratched his bearded chin, and thought.

'But what would we have to do?' he asked. 'I only know how to be vile and loathsome.'

'We would help you overcome all that,' A note of excitement crept into her voice. 'Let's begin right now,' she continued, 'there is a human child who could use our help today.'

'But what can I do?' pleaded Pan, 'I'm just not made to help people.' Horror spread over his features as Mab asked him to assemble his subjects under the tree.

'We are ready to unite,' she told them, still in battle dress. 'Let us draw on each other's assets and end this day as one true Force of Nature.'

With little time to waste, the entire throng swept out towards the asylum chapel.

****~~~****

**Chapter 28**

It was an early start for Daniel and Wilbur. The two had managed to steal some bread and butter from Lorikeet's kitchen before exiting the building by a bathroom window. Crouched in the snow, Wilbur made a silent gesture to Daniel. Close to the wall they shuffled along to the outside cupboard. Daniel opened the door and together they pulled out the basket, dragging it behind them. There was an open expanse of land to traverse to the kitchen block, and they had to dive behind a hedge as the food van drew up at its destination.

Quick as a flash they lifted the basket and hid behind the kitchens. The driver was already inside, delivering the first load of food. When he emerged he loaded his empty basket on the van before wheeling off another load. Just as he entered the kitchen Daniel leapt onto the van. Seconds later he returned to Wilbur. He held up six fingers, six more baskets to unload. When the man took the last one into the kitchens they would move. Knocking the man out had been abandoned but they still intended to escape in the van. They hoped the driver wouldn't notice the laundry basket was slightly larger than the food hampers.

A hungry robin landed in a tree a few feet away. It began a meal of bright red berries but they must have been frozen solid, Daniel imagined. His own stomach rumbled noisily, and he remembered the bread in his coat pocket. Soon the early shift of nurses would arrive, and unless they got a move on they would surely be discovered. Wilbur, who'd been keeping watch, now held up one finger and Daniel began to stand up, ready to run.

A sharp cry cut through the morning chill, freezing the escapees and bringing staff running into the open. Then, further recurrent screams followed, in a deeper female howl.

Daniel and Wilbur lost no time. Already in combat mode they dumped their plan and sprang across the snow to the chapel. Outside an unkempt man was holding a knife to Lena's throat. Watching the appalling scene was the laundry woman, holding a plate of breakfast for the youngster. The attacker demanded the food. He ate it greedily while holding the squirming girl in a vice like grip.

'Tell us what you want and let the child go!' Daniel called out. Stanley spun to face him.

'You keep out of it!' He lashed at Daniel. The knife glinted as he continued, 'All of you keep away, or she gets it!'

Lena stopped struggling for a second, then dug her teeth hard into Stanley's wrist. Shocked, he loosened his grasp and Lena dashed to Ellen. Stanley grabbed her haversack. As he pulled it away from her the doll fell out, into the snow.

Her walk had taken Juliette in the direction of the assault. She'd seen the man vanish momentarily into the tiny chapel, only to emerge holding a child roughly under one arm. It was all a blur to Juliette, the child attempting to resist as a distressed woman appeared on the scene with what looked like a plate of food. Juliette was sure food wasn't needed in heaven, let alone men taking small children captive. She took shelter behind a tree and peered out at the unfolding event. Two other men had arrived almost at a run through the heavy, clogged snow.

One of them looked especially familiar, until Juliette realised she'd seen the same patients walking the grounds. Even so, as she hid behind the tree something stirred within her. It felt like a memory long ago buried, lost to the grief and torture she'd since endured. Quite unexpectedly she then felt more alive than in weeks, months even. Something inside her snapped. It was not only the freezing weather that sent a shiver up her spine.

The man had been shouting and she heard him threaten the child. A surge of anger rose from her loins as she surfaced from the tree. At once her frozen limbs responded and pure adrenalin swept her across the landscape towards the sorry gathering. As Juliette neared, the child broke free and her haversack fell to the ground.

There, alone and motionless in the snow lay Juliette's baby, the knitted hat upon her head just as it had been all those years ago. Juliette dived for the doll at the same time as Stanley's fist struck her jaw. She sprawled headlong into the snow, and there lay silent and unconscious at Ellen's feet.

The gates of Moorvale Asylum were opened again by Cecil at six thirty. He'd received a message from the Night Nursing Officer saying the inspector and his team required entry at this time. As his unmarked car swept through the entrance, Hawking nodded to Cecil. The search warrant had finally turned up late the previous evening. Now almost daylight Hawking didn't need to waste another moment. With Grimes at the wheel the car skidded slightly as it drove up the frozen drive.

'Steady on Sergeant,' Hawking warned. Grimes leant forward in his seat, like he'd noticed something.

'There's some sort of scuffle going on over there Guv,' he said, 'shall I drive a bit closer?' Hawking was anxious to begin his hospital search, but a sudden scream made up his mind.

'Yes,' he said, 'proceed with caution, Grimes. We don't want to inflame whatever is going on.' He wound down his window and signalled to the following vehicle to drive the opposite way round.

Grimes went at a snail's pace until he arrived at the rear of the wash house. He came to a silent halt as Hawking exited the vehicle. Joining his boss the two slid along the laundry wall until they saw Stanley. Appearing desperate, Stanley had ripped the head from the doll and was extracting paper notes from it, stuffing them roughly into his coat pockets.

In the snow a brightly coloured hat lay next to a prostrate woman. Hawking feared she might be injured, but the only sign of wounding was the bloodstained sleeve of an inmate. The laundry woman hugged a youngster while a different man was winding a piece of linen around his friend's wound. Grimes and Hawking quickly approached Stanley as he ran for the churchyard.

'There's no escape, Stanley,' Grimes called out, 'our men are surrounding the grounds.' Stanley's eyes darted about before he made a mad dash for the wall.

Hiding in the graveyard, Queen Mab and Lord Pan signalled to their subjects. At once the fairies pulled taut positioned cobwebs, tripping Stanley headlong into the snow. He cracked his head on one of the tombstones but somehow managed to get to his feet again. Stanley stumbled towards his dangling rope escape but his feet slipped on slug and snail trails. Biting flies arrived and nipped at his ears making him curse. Still holding the knife he flailed his arms about, but to no avail. Fairies pulled the money out of his pockets and gently it drifted over the churchyard wall, carried aloft on the icy breeze.

Stanley cried out and made feeble attempts to grab the cash but it was of no use. Uniformed officers closed in on him, but it was Grimes who overcame him, grappled the blade from his hand and read him his rights. Other officers now attended the scene. Juliette, still unconscious, was lifted to the laundry house while an ambulance was called. It would double up to take the child and the injured Daniel Kingdom to hospital.

It didn't take Hawking long to realise the child was the missing Lena Crumbe. Wilbur and Ellen were driven to the station to help the police with their enquiries and to make statements. When the ambulance arrived Rose Lowe had just turned up for early duty. She volunteered to accompany Juliette and Daniel to Chase Farm casualty. A female constable was deployed to look after Lena, keeping a close eye in case she tried to abscond. Grimes watched after the ambulance as it drove away. He told Hawking he was more than impressed with the petite Rose Lowe who thought nothing of exercising her duty as a nurse and also as a public servant.

The inspector said it might be a good idea for Grimes to drop in on the ward later and see how both patients were doing. After all, they needed to question Kingdom, and once the woman gained consciousness they would also need to hear her side of the story.

In the dingy room, Gloria held the paper up to the lamplight. It was the evening edition that came out about four o'clock. This copy had been left on the train seat for anyone to pick up. She saw the headline: _Attack at Moorvale Asylum. Desperate man holds child at knifepoint._ She read on, until she came to the words _laundry maid_ when her heart thumped so hard she dropped the paper. Slowly, she continued to read, learning that Ellen had been taken to the police station to give some sort of statement. The story also informed her of the recovery of missing Lena Crumbe. Gloria put two and two together. Ellen hadn't gone to the police as she'd promised days ago.

Gloria threw the paper to one side. She put her coat and scarf back on and blew out the lamp. She would have to go to the Edgware police herself and speak up for her wayward sister. Even more annoying was that her plans for making the curry would have to be postponed. But if Ellen was in trouble, she had to take top priority.

In the street the evening air was already beginning to freeze. A flutter of sleet merged with the falling smog making everything appear ghosted. Gloria pulled her headscarf tighter under her chin. Even if they had to starve because of it, she swore now was the time to take Ellen away from the terrible Moorvale Asylum.

The same day Alec Silver had planned to give Juliette León one last shock treatment before the holiday. But he was called early to Marsh's office where he learned of the incident in the grounds and the resulting absence of his patients. As he left the superintenant's' office, Alec decided to put the matter to one side. He could recommence the programme in the New Year. That afternoon all he had left were some notes to write up before he made his way back to Gentleman's Row.

An odd feeling of elation filled his senses as he made his way through the snow to Lorikeet. He'd finally visited the registry office at midday, picked up the marriage licence and had secured the details for the ceremony: Friday 29th December, at eleven o'clock. But what he was truly excited about were the untold riches and power that waited at the chateau.

The door to Lorikeet squealed as it opened, days of wet and cold having swelled the wood. A nurse came over to help him close it again.

'There's a call for you doctor,' he said, 'just come through this minute. If you'll take it in the office please.'

'Very well,' he said, hoping it was not the meddling Greta checking up on his progress.

'Alec Silver speaking,' he said into the mouthpiece.

'Silver, it's Hugo Crumbe.'

'Why Mr Crumbe, this is a pleasure -'

'Never mind that now. I need to see you, it's urgent.' Alec closed the office door and lowered his voice.

'Of course,' he said, forgetting his obligations to Mrs Gee, 'I was just about to leave. Shall we say The Mermaid, in half and hour?'

'Yes, I can just about manage that. Come alone, Silver.'

'Of course,' Alec began, but Crumbe had already rung off. Alec's exhilaration soured in his throat. He went into the kitchen for some water. As he replaced the empty glass he realised he was shaking. His earlier feelings of excitement morphed into fear. Still in his overcoat, he retrieved his briefcase from the office.

'I've got the notes for your ward-round, doctor.' the nurse said, seeing Alec make for the exit.

'That will have to wait,' Alec replied, waving a hand vaguely as he left by the same awkward door. The nurse followed him and struggled to fit the misshapen lump back into its frame.

Heavier snowfalls had all but ceased but the big freeze continued to persevere. Chimneys belched out blackened smoke as far as the eye could see, and tonight the smog was back as thick and soupy as ever. Alec knew his way to The Mermaid by heart but even so he had some trouble finding it.

'Doctor Silver!' Maurice greeted him as he entered the pub, 'I haven't seen you in a while. How are you?'

'I'm well, but very busy.' Alec said, 'I'd love to chat but I'm meeting with a very important colleague tonight. We shan't want to be disturbed.'

'Say no more Guv,' the landlord said, tapping the side of his nose, 'here, you can take him through to the snug where you can be as private as you like.'

'Thank you Maurice,' Alec said. He smiled for the first time since the call from Crumbe. 'I appreciate it very much.'

Alone in the snug, the two men were served mutton stew and dumplings for supper. A cosy fire roared in the grate while Alec and Hugo sipped whisky with their meal. Alec noticed how agitated Crumbe was, jarring his fork on the plate and glancing from side to side as he ate.

'Is everything alright?' he asked his companion. Crumbe continued to glare into his dinner.

'The truth is,' Crumbe began, 'Silver, I need your help.' Alec brightened and sat up straight.

'But of course,' he said, 'anything to help our cause.'

'I hope you mean that Silver, because after today I could be in big trouble.'

'Oh, come now,' Alec made a sweeping gesture with his hands, 'surely things can't be that bad?' Crumbe's features froze before he dropped his knife and fork. Steadily he pulled out the Beretta and pointed the gun at Alec.

'If you won't help me I will have to make you.' Alec stiffened and backed into his chair.

'Whoa Hugo, please put that away. You know I'll do anything you ask.' The gun was reluctantly returned to Crumbe's pocket. Alec noticed his hands were shaking again as he reached for his pipe.

'I don't want to threaten you but as you can see, I'm desperate.'

'Please explain.' Alec urged. Crumbe took a large gulp of whisky.

'I've told you in the past that we raise funds for the Movement,' he began.

'Yes, to fund rallies and buy various supplies,' Alec confirmed.

'Well, what I didn't wish to reveal is that most of the money comes from peddling drugs.'

'Good Lord,' Alec coughed as he choked on the pipe.

'Until now I've been protected, shielded if you like. You see, I never get my own hands dirty.' Crumbe smirked slightly before continuing, 'I have my agents, you understand. Well, one of my main agents was arrested this morning. I read about it in the afternoon edition and after that I telephoned you.'

'Oh God,' Alec erupted. He remembered his meeting with Marsh, the disturbance at the asylum and his own possible implication through Crumbe.

'If he squeals, its prison for me and the end of the Movement.'

'I see,' Alec said.

'But there's more,' Crumbe said, 'there's a woman, lives at your lodging house.' For a terrifying moment Alec thought he was talking about Mrs Gee. He drew in a breath.

'Her name is Ellinor, she lives in the basement flat. She's my sister.'

Alec breathed out and put his pipe down. He couldn't face the rest of his meal so concentrated as Crumbe gave his account. He relayed how some weeks ago Mrs Gee had confided to Marcia seeing Ellinor visit the police station in Edgware. It wouldn't necessarily have posed a problem but for the fact they shared a criminal act during the war.

'I've never revealed this to anyone,' Crumbe said, looking about the room nervously. Alec noticed small beads of perspiration breaking out on his colleagues' forehead. 'It all began when I worked for the Third Reich.' He paused as Alec's jaw dropped open. 'Yes, I was privileged to be a head chef at the Eagles Lair Castle.'

'This is fantastic!' Alec said, a little too loudly. Crumbe lowered his voice.

'We, that is Marcia, having come from a long Germanic bloodline, was commissioned to provide a surrogate child for one of the high ranking officers. His wife was unable to carry a baby to full term.' Alec looked on, stunned.

'Oh, that sort of thing goes on far more than you'd imagine, and of course it was a great honour,' Crumbe brushed some specks off the table. 'Anyway, Marcia had the child, but shortly afterwards it died.'

'What did you do?'

'Marcia was working with Ellinor at a prison camp, Ravensbruk, where some of the women were pregnant. We took a chance. Marcia took a new-born and planned to give it to the officer in place of her own child. Ellinor worked in the nursery so it was easy for her to swap a prisoner's baby for the dead infant.'

'Why didn't you just tell them Marcia's baby had died? Surely they would have understood.'

'I wish it had been that simple.' Crumbe replied. 'You see this couple; well to put it plainly they were as high as one could go, within the Third Reich.' Crumbe's eyes burned into Alec's. 'They were not about to tolerate failure of any kind. We were convinced we would be severely punished if anyone found out about it. We were Silver, literally in fear for our lives.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 29**

Alec's head was buzzing as the train took him to Camden Town. In a daze he changed to the westbound line for Burnt Oak. His meeting with Crumbe had made him very late. He knew Greta would be annoyed he hadn't phoned to tell her. No matter, he mused, she would soon cheer up when he told her about the marriage arrangements.

It was gone ten, and black as tar. Low cloud and smog obscured any chance of seeing stars or the full, fat moon. Alec looked down at his knees and not at the few passengers lining the carriage. Every now and then he shook his head when he thought of Crumbe's account. It was too fantastic to believe, but at the same time it made a crazy sort of sense. Alec hadn't any offspring from Ivy and didn't want any with Greta, but saw how some people might find such issue desirable. As a younger man he'd given several lectures about Eugenics and Natural Selection, in line with the ethos of the Movement. But children happened to other people. He'd never met Marcia Crumbe but had seen Ellinor from his window when she went shopping. She always wore a headscarf that obscured her face.

Crumbe told him Marcia worked as a _Blockova_ , a guard in charge of one or several huts of prisoners. After loosing her own child she became very angry, a positive asset in the Ravensbruk camp. She was producing breast milk and able to feed the swapped child appearing to all as if she were the genuine parent. At home she and Hugo carefully shaved off the baby's dark fluffy hair in preparation for handing over the infant. However, the day before this transaction, the childless officer and his wife paid her a surprise visit. She was both shocked and frightened by their call. She told Hugo that even terrified, it was nonetheless a privilege they'd sat and spoken with her.

But after examining the child for some time, the wife said the baby bore little resemblance to either Marcia or to her own husband. She went on to press her spouse on the issue. Marcia bluffed, saying it was far too early to spot any parental similarity; after all, the child was only a new-born. She tried to convince them the baby's eyes would turn blue at six weeks, but the wife appeared doubtful. Before they left the couple gave Marcia some papers to sign, saying a nanny would arrive the next day for the collection. But afterwards Marcia became very spooked. She pleaded with Hugo to take them out of Germany.

Just returned from the Eagles Lair, Crumbe also had worrying news. He'd overheard an officer in the wine cellar talking about questioning Ellinor and the sentry guards at Ravensbruk. It seemed to regard the issue of a newborn. Quickly Hugo arranged for Ellinor to have false papers, changing her surname. That night he drove Marcia and the infant to Geneva, south through Lyon and along the Spanish border to San Sebastian. Later, when Ellinor was safely out of Germany, all four of them met up and boarded a ship for Portsmouth. From here they travelled to London to a safe house; the tobacconist and sweet shop in Barnet.

Alec shifted in his seat as the train drew in at Hampstead. Only five more stops to go. He pulled off his gloves and reached for his old pipe. Abstractedly he filled the bowl while he recalled more of what Crumbe had revealed. The owner of the shop had married an important General who died in the First World War. She used the shop as a front while she hid war criminals and the illegal riches her husband had left her. She was elderly when Crumbe and his family arrived in Barnet, and happily leased the shop to him.

Alec gripped his pipe until his fingers hurt. Somehow Crumbe had found out about the existence of the German Chateau, and of Alec's attachment to Greta Gee. His demands were that Alec must get him to Germany instead of taking Mrs Gee. There they could live in luxury at the castle while they sold some of the treasures to finance and build a new Movement in the heart of the Fatherland. Alec's hands became moist at the thought of doing this prestigious work. Still shaking he stowed the filled pipe back to his pocket. All thoughts of Mrs Gee's attractions had become dampened after hearing Crumbe out.

He felt fired up and ready for a fight, but he would have to play it cool when he eventually got home. As if nothing had happened, and as if she and the wedding plans were all he could think about.

Inspector Hawking closed his eyes and drifted off to the music. Mrs Hawking was in the kitchen, humming softly as she rinsed off the supper plates. The notes of Glen Miller's _In the Mood_ swam out into the lounge as Hawking dozed between his two satisfying worlds.

Charge Nurse Stanley had confessed to killing Dolly after just one hour of questioning. She'd threatened to tell Superintendent Marsh why her doll had gone missing. Stanley had quietened her down by giving her a pretty dress, a red one left in the storeroom for ward funds. Dolly was usually very gentle, but her missing doll turned her into a different person altogether. Stanley said she wouldn't accept the doll would turn up soon, but that he needed it first because there was something inside belonging to him. She made a lot of noise and in an attempt to silence her he put the belt of the dress around her neck.

Although tiny, she seemed to muster up a vicious strength. When she kicked out at him he suddenly lost control. In the ensuing struggle he strangled her before realising what he'd done. Attempts at resuscitation were unsuccessful and terrified, he wrapped her in a sheet and put her in a linen skip. Later in the dead of night, he woke Cecil. He agreed to take her remains to the bomb crater, transporting her in the barrow used by his great-grandfather. Cecil was used to doing what he was told and he asked no questions, just went about the gruesome disposal as if it were one of his gardening jobs.

Afterwards Stanley took some unpaid holiday, gave the excuse he was exhausted and needed a break. But instead of going away he sneaked back to the asylum. Waiting in the roof space he watched for Cecil, hoping he had the doll. After Cecil was taken for questioning he laid low. It was some days before he noticed a child with the laundry woman. And it was only that morning he'd seen the doll's head sticking out of the girl's haversack. He was ill, he argued. For days he'd been cold, dirty and hungry. Desperation had ignited when he finally found the money.

Hawking got up briefly to tend the fire. Stanley had been frantic, but he was also selfish and greedy. He knew the man was trying for the sympathy vote and he wasn't having any of it. He told him he needed names and addresses, or there would be another night of starvation. Even so, the accused took some time to deliberate before giving him Hugo Crumbe's name and telephone number. He claimed not to know his address. Immediately Hawking made the connection to the missing child. To be on the safe side, he also sent out constables to bring both Ellinor and Marcia in for questioning. At the same time a warrant for Crumbe's arrest was applied for. By this time it was late afternoon.

In her earlier statement Ellinor had refused to give Hawking her brother's name. She alone had wanted to take the blame and be punished for the crime of kidnap. The inspector had released Ellinor on the understanding she was to remain available for questioning at any time. The information she'd provided about the child abduction he passed on to the War Office and the Welfare Department.

Just hours ago he'd questioned her and Marcia but both insisted they knew nothing of Hugo Crumbe's whereabouts or his involvement with illegal drugs. He'd let the two women go that evening, but posted a tail on both in case Crumbe tried to contact them. Stanley was to spend a night in the cells, soon to be transferred to the custody block at Wandsworth prison. Before he left for home, Hawking made sure the accused was bought some fish and chips. As for the laundry woman Ellen, she'd been collected some hours before and taken home by her sister.

In the comfort of his lounge, Hawking dozed to the gentle sway of Glen Miller. Having found Lena, Grimes was now searching Crumbe's shop, while further officers were sweeping Barnet. Others were posted to keep watch at the mainline stations. Hawking also alerted the ports and air-bases with Crumbe's description from Stanley and Marcia. No doubt he was holed up somewhere and was likely getting help. Hawking was sleepy and thought he might have time for a short nap, but he was on standby, ready to snap into action if the telephone rang. With any luck Crumbe would be spotted and brought in before too much longer. After that the law would see to it that justice prevailed over his life of wrongdoing and deceit.

Burning heat jolted Mrs Gee upright. With a gasp she dropped the fiery stub and stamped on it, then retrieved it from the linoleum floor. Unsteadily she placed it with a dozen or so cigarette ends in the ashtray. In the guest lounge, she anxiously awaited Alec's return. Before her on the card-table stood an empty sherry glass, along with a half-played game of solitaire. Her neck ached and her legs felt stiff as she stretched into a cat-like posture.

Footsteps alerted her to check the time. The lounge clock said ten minutes to midnight. Anger rapidly replaced the drowsiness. Earlier she'd told her mother of Alec's devotion and care, but now she was being made a fool. She marched downstairs to the kitchen as his key turned in the lock. Her mouth was dry and her head smarted. She seemed unaware her hair had fallen loose. The kitchen tap spluttered as it delivered a draft of water. She sipped it delicately, resisting the urge to bite the glass.

Upstairs she heard more footfall. Mrs Gee sat at the kitchen table while the feet explored her rooms. If he wanted to see her, he would just have to find her. Soon the steps drew nearer, slowly descending to the kitchen. In the half light, Alec's slim frame appeared in the stairwell. There was something different about him that made her shudder.

'I stayed up for you.' Her voice wavered. 'Where have you been?'

'That doesn't matter now.' He placed the special licence on the table. 'Take a look at this.'

She noticed the pungent smell of whisky on his breath and became even more enraged. Reluctantly she glanced at the licence; then challenged his stare.

'So you've finally arranged a date?' she said.

'Next Friday: The 29th; eleven o'clock.'

'That's too soon.' She tossed her head and some more of the burnished hair fought loose from its pins.

'Don't be ridiculous, you wanted it as soon as possible.'

'Well, things have changed since I spoke with my mother.' She glared at him defiantly. Alec snatched away the licence and paused momentarily before tearing it to shreds. He smiled malevolently as he did so.

'That's that then,' he said. Mrs Gee's jaw dropped open and tears glistened in her eyes.

'You selfish beast!'

'I don't think so, my love.' Alec said smoothly. Quickly he moved behind her chair and grabbed some loose hair in his fist. 'How do you explain this?' He threw down a scrap of paper upon which were written Edward Fade's name, address and a time of meeting. 'Have you been spying on me?'

'No,' gasped Mrs Gee as she struggled to break away, 'I went to see him about the chateau, I went for _us_.'

'I don't believe you.' He tightened his grip as his face distorted to a demented expression.

Mrs Gee lunged for the tumbler and smashed it against the table. At the same time she twisted up, out of the chair and faced him. She held a shard of glass to his neck.

'I'll do it!' she screamed, her face wet and crazed in the half-light.

Silver let go of her locks and grabbed her wrists. The glass blade fell to the floor. He saw the horror in her face before he punched her cheek, sending her headlong against the oven door. Stunned, she crouched on the floor for a few seconds before attempting to get to her feet. Again he struck her; this time with such force she flew backwards, smashing her head on the solid door-step. He waited to make sure she didn't move. Just long enough to see a gentle stream of blood trickle from below her head onto the flagstone floor.

Years of police work had Sergeant Grimes used to violence and gore, but inside Chase Farm Hospital the strong disinfectant made his nostrils flare. He climbed the stone staircase to the second floor, making his way to Victory Ward: Women's medical. It was after visiting hours and a nurse was taking hot milk and cocoa round on a small trolley. Seeing nobody else to ask, he approached her and was led to a screened bed nearest the door. Unsure he'd found the right patient the screens opened and Rose Lowe appeared.

'I dropped by to see how our witnesses are doing,' he started, 'but Miss León is the first one I've found.' Rose motioned for him to move outside the ward doors.

'She's doing very well,' she said in lowered tones, 'especially considering the strength of the blow. Stanley gave her a slight concussion, so she'll be kept in overnight. If she's stable tomorrow I can take her back to Moorvale.' She smiled at Grimes brightly before adding, 'Would you like a cup of cocoa? I'm just going to make one for myself.' Grimes accepted the offer and followed her into the ward kitchen. He was sure she could detect his racing heart.

'You must be tired after such a long day,' he managed.

'I'm fine, Sergeant.' she said. 'Anyway, you've been working just as long.' She smiled again and he noticed her eyes were not blue or green, but a deep turquoise.

'I suppose I have,' he blustered. Rose lit the gas and put the kettle on just as the nurse came back with the drinks trolley.

'I'll see to it,' Rose told her.

'Oh thanks, you are a love,' said the nurse, 'I've still got two bedpans to deliver before I go off.'

Rose got to work clearing the trolley while Grimes made the cocoa. 'The little girl is in the children's ward,' Rose continued, 'I think she's all right.'

'Feisty child,' Grimes remarked, 'biting Stanley like that.'

'She's got spirit, that's for sure. The male patient Daniel Kingdom, he's on Mayflower Ward. He's had stitches to his arm but the wound was not severe.'

'That's good news,' Grimes said, 'so he might be discharged soon?'

'Perhaps, but I suppose it will be after Christmas before they are able to provide statements. Miss León, well I'm doing a case study on her because she arrived at Moorvale with such unusual symptoms.'

'Oh?' Grimes saw Rose's expression change to one of sadness.

'And she's revealed some very strange things this afternoon. Things I'm sure she will tell you at the station, but even so -'

'Would you like to tell me what she said?' Grimes offered.

'Well yes, I would.' Rose looked relieved. 'I feel someone should know. I feel very worried about the whole story.' Grimes took a gulp of his drink. If it meant seeing Rose again he would happily listen to anything.

'I'd also like to hear your account of this morning's incident, Miss Lowe.' He said it in his best Sergeant's voice.

'Of course, although it was almost over by the time I arrived. I'll be off duty tomorrow afternoon if that would be convenient?'

'That will be fine,' Grimes said, 'just ask for me at the duty desk would you?'

****~~~****

**Chapter 30**

Raised voices and strange noises woke Mr Drayton from his slumbers. This was particularly annoying as he was due to catch the early train to Pinner. His cousin was expecting him and insisted on punctuality. If nothing else his years at the bank had taught Mr Drayton the advantage of a rigid timetable.

From downstairs he'd heard a muffled cry, followed by something breaking. Now all was silent. He threw back the covers and struggled into his dressing gown and slippers. As he came out of his room he heard the front door slam. Descending to the first landing he rapped on Alec's door. No answer. He tried the handle and flicking the light switch saw the doctor's bed was empty.

Mr Drayton was not a brave man but common sense told him any intruder was probably now gone. But as the only male at home he felt it only right to check. He continued downstairs. Mademoiselle's flat was locked, so he tried the landlady's rooms. The lights blazed in her lounge but Mrs Gee was not there. Sweat pricked his temples and his armpits moistened as he took the kitchen stairs. This was a place he'd never been before, the bowels of the house where the magic of cuisine occurred. His feet found the cool flagstones. A strange sweetened odour told him something was wrong, and his breath quickened. His clammy fingers searched for the light switch. When he at last found it a scene of horror was revealed.

There lay Mrs Gee, unconscious in a pool of blood seeping beneath her head like a silken scarf. He rushed to her side and checked her pulse, but it was too weak to feel. He put his face close to her mouth and thought he detected the slightest of air movement.

She was alive.

He raced upstairs and telephoned for an ambulance. Then he went back down to sit with her, placing tea towels gently against her head in an attempt to slow the blood. He covered her with a knitted shawl found on a chair and placed newspaper under her legs to keep her warm. After some attempts he lit the oven and this helped heat the icy room. Then he lay beside her, stroked her face and talked to her. He told her things he never would have otherwise imparted: Words of devotion. Usually unable to express such emotions, Mr Drayton spoke with eloquence and poetry. Dreading, knowing she would surely die, he felt he had no choice but to do so.

Softly and kindly, this is what he did until he heard the clattering bell approach. Then he ran to the front door and led the ambulance men to the basement.

Her legs dragged and her chest was tight as Gloria walked the last few yards to Gentleman's Row. She was very tired. The previous evening she'd collected Ellen from the police station. Listening to the alarming events at the asylum she worked to prepare the rabbit meat. At last she managed to get it into a marinade before its final cooking. She knew Ellen had disobeyed her and had not told the police about Lena, but all that seemed unimportant now. The man with the knife could have killed any one of them that day, including Ellen. Although there were injuries, thankfully the Lord had seen fit to spare their lives.

Gloria entered the kitchen by the basement door and found Mr Drayton in his shirtsleeves. He was mopping up a pool of blood from the floor. Her hands flew to her face and her legs crumbled just as Mr Drayton pulled out a chair.

'It's alright,' he said, 'Mrs Gee had an accident, but she's in hospital. The doctor said she -' He was unable to finish the sentence.

'But what happened?' Gloria said, 'I have to get the breakfasts cooked, and I should be clearing this up, not you sir.'

'Now miss,' he said, 'let's say you and me do it together. I ought to be travelling today but I've put it off. So between us I think we'll manage, don't you?'

'Yes sir,' Gloria said, 'we could make boiled eggs and toast, and some porridge; that might be easiest.'

'Right, you tell me what to do and we'll soon get it done.'

Mr Drayton made a large pot of tea and stirred the porridge while Gloria boiled the water for the eggs and sliced a loaf of bread. He told her Mrs Gee had taken a fall and cracked her head and that was the cause of all the blood. She'd be in hospital for a spell, but she was young and strong and should be able to come home in time. He didn't tell her the police had been at Gentleman's Row for some time during the early hours. Until they'd examined the scene he'd been unable to do any clearing up.

Doctor Silver was still not back so there were only three residents for breakfast. Over the meal Mr Drayton told the Pink sisters what happened. They were spooked, partly because like Mademoiselle they'd slept through it all, but mostly in case the intruder came back. Mr Drayton listened to them as he spread some of Mrs Gee's homemade marmalade on his toast.

'It's a good thing you'll be off to your parents soon,' he said, 'I'm going to stay here and keep all the doors bolted.'

'How did he break in?' Lucy asked.

'He didn't,' Mr Drayton replied, 'the police think Mrs Gee might have left the front door on the latch.'

'I've never known her to do that, ever.' Alice said.

'She may have waited up for Doctor Silver. He seems to have gone missing.' Mr Drayton said the words carefully. Lucy dropped her spoon into her porridge.

'You don't think -'

'I'm trying not to think anything,' he said, 'but if he turns up, I'll be here to let the police know.'

Alec stretched out on the tiny bunk and looked over at Hugo Crumbe. The expression on his companion's face was devoid of emotion. He turned on to his side and tried to see out of the port hole. The boat tossed him about as it rode the North Sea towards Holland. Alec felt queasy, but not only because of the voyage. He thought back to the kitchen at Gentleman's Row, of Mrs Gee and the crack of her head on the step. During these sleepless hours he'd been through all the paperwork found in her bureau before the fateful incident.

He found evidence that she'd left the entire chateau and its contents to him alone. Greta had tried to tell him about her visit to Edward Fade and Alec was ashamed his temper had exploded. Having left her for dead he could never go back to England. If only he'd realised. Now the ghastly deed appeared like a strange, distant memory. He looked over again at Crumbe. Asleep he began an agitated snore that somehow both amused and annoyed Alec. He sat on the side of his bunk and filled the bowl of his faithful pipe.

It had been a race against time as he ran from Gentleman's Row to meet Crumbe at their pre-arranged rendezvous behind the church hall. The car was parked outside with Crumbe at the wheel and as soon as Alec got in he sped off to Teddington Lock. He advised Alec he'd collected the shop's Christmas takings and that a trustworthy contact would meet them. Alec felt both elated and sick at the thought of his crime towards Greta, but didn't reveal any of it to Crumbe.

'Let's get there as fast as we can,' Alec said decisively, without wishing to draw attention to the speeding car. Crumbe had gripped the steering wheel and drove in silence. The streets of London were deserted save for the odd bobby on the beat. Whenever they passed anyone Crumbe slowed the car and pulled down his hat brim. Alec had turned his coat collar up and also wore a homburg. On arrival at Teddington Lock they were greeted by three men. Without a word one of the men got into Crumbe's car while the second man followed him in a sedan. At the water's edge, the third man gestured for Alec and his companion to board a small fishing boat.

In the hold Crumbe told Alec that the first two men were taking his car back to the sweetshop, hopefully getting there before Marcia woke.

'What about Marcia?' Alec asked him. 'Why did you leave her behind?' Crumbe smirked mysteriously as the engine fired and the vessel got underway.

'Don't you see?' he said, 'She will provide my alibi, and later I will send for her to join us.' Alec felt rather foolish and wished he'd done the same with Mrs Gee.

Now as Crumbe snored, Alec puffed grimly on his pipe and wondered. If he could somehow get the gun from Crumbe perhaps he could also be disposed of. After all, he had nothing to lose in killing again. He leant back on the bunk and thought about the chateau- _his_ chateau and all the riches within it.

He had the papers proving sole ownership and now realised he was not about to share it with anybody.

A fresh blanket of crisp white lined the streets as Rose made her way to the Edgware police. It was Christmas Eve and she'd just taken Juliette León back to Moorvale. Her patient's jaw was badly bruised and her body ached from her fall but otherwise she was making a satisfactory recovery. Rose entered the station and reported to the desk sergeant. When Peter Grimes appeared he was with a strange looking woman whose face was wrapped in a scarf. The woman glanced fleetingly at Rose before she scuttled off down the station steps.

'Sorry to have kept you, Miss Lowe,' Grimes said, 'please come through, won't you?' Rose followed him to the interview room. 'This will be on record as an informal statement,' he continued, 'so just tell me in your own words what you saw as you approached the scene, the morning in question.' Rose gave her account as well as she could before telling the sergeant what Juliette had disclosed to her in hospital.

'Well, well.' Grimes said, tapping a pencil on his notebook. 'Would you be so good as to write that down as a statement? It may help us with a different line of enquiry the inspector has been following.'

Rose did as he asked, and requested she might be present while Daniel Kingdom and Juliette León were questioned after Christmas. Grimes agreed, and escorted her into the street. He hesitated as she looked up. He could sense the warmth in her smile.

'This is a bit irregular,' he began, 'but could I- I mean would you like to come to the pictures sometime?' Rose flashed him a wide grin as he took her hand in his.

'I'd love to,' she said, 'In fact I'm off next weekend.'

'Shall we say new year's eve then?'

'It's a date!' Rose said.

Events had changed the intended escape but Daniel didn't mind. The plan could be put into place another time because he now had a more pressing dilemma. Ever since the day Stanley had been arrested, he'd known. And as he lay in the hospital bed at Chase Farm he ran the events of that early morning over, like a broken film.

She ran toward him, just as in all the dreams of her he'd ever witnessed. In the whiteout she took on her true form, that of the bravest woman he'd ever met. But she stopped abruptly as something held her spellbound. It seemed like the doll in the bright hat caught her attention. He remembered her clear porcelain skin, how her hair gleamed in the early, faint sun. Had he really seen her, and would he ever find her again?

Daniel wriggled his legs and tried to weigh up the events. This woman was the image of his first love but he might have wanted it so. God only knew what the drugs pumped into him on Lorikeet had done to his brain. But if he wasn't delusional and if it really _was_ her, then she was an in-patient at the asylum. He'd asked Nurse Lowe as much on that morning when they were bundled off to Casualty together. She nodded over Juliette's unconscious form, but had revealed nothing more.

He'd asked several nurses what ward she might be on but only got curt replies. It seemed they didn't want him to know anything, perhaps because he had come from the asylum. That first day in hospital he had an x-ray to his arm, and sitting opposite him was the young girl, Lena. He knew her name because the laundry woman had shouted it out several times during the attack. Lena smiled at him and told him she was having her chest photographed because of a cough. They went on to share a short game of 'I-spy with my little eye' before his name was called. He told her how brave she'd been before asking about the lady who ran up to them, but Lena didn't know anything more than he did.

Now, the irony was he was more desperate to get back into the asylum than he ever was to escape from it.

Boxing Day brought clear skies and freezing temperatures. A fresh flurry of snow settled on the inspector's car as he got into it for the drive to Chase Farm Hospital. He was picking up Grimes on the way. While both men enjoyed the comforts of home, this was what they did best. A fresh enquiry concerned the landlady of 8 Gentleman's Row. Mrs Gee was the latest victim in what, Hawking reckoned, must be a related crime. A recent visit to the station by Ellinor Girard had added extra fuel to his suspicions. She claimed to have seen Alec Silver leaving the lodging house on the night the landlady was attacked, the 23rd of December.

Now, as he walked the long corridor to Vasa Ward: Women's emergency, Hawking cursed at letting Silver slip through his fingers. Eventually, information from Marcia Crumbe had Grimes track down the underground Movement cell. Following this visit they were off to Edward Fade's residence to bring him in for questioning. Silver and Crumbe had been missing since the early hours of Christmas Eve and could easily have escaped England by now. Mrs Gee had been the last known person to speak to Silver before his disappearance. Hawking was hoping she might be able to shed some light on his, and perhaps Crumbs' destination.

Juliette León, Daniel Kingdom and Lena Crumbe had been discharged; the adults were re-admitted to the asylum while the child placed in foster care for the Christmas period. While in hospital the nurses found recent injuries to Lena's shins along with older scarring on her body. Although frightened, she confided about her parent's cruelty and Hawking was not prepared to send her home. Though Mrs Crumbe now saw fit to shop her husband, Hawking knew all about her involvement in the child abduction her sister-in-law Ellinor had disclosed.

Grimes spoke to a nurse outside a cubicle on Vasa Ward. The nurse said they could go in, but only for a few minutes, as the patient only gained consciousness that morning. Hawking removed his hat and approached Mrs Gee. She was propped up in bed with pillows but she slumped to one side. Her head was a mass of bandages which made talking difficult, but it seemed she could remember nothing of the attack. Grimes took over the questions while the inspector found a doctor, but he had no luck getting any further information.

'Well, that was a waste of time Guv,' Grimes said when they were back in the car.

'The doctor wasn't any help either,' Hawking returned, 'he said she may never have any recall of the incident.'

'She didn't seem to remember anything, not even her address.'

'It may come back with time,' Hawking said, 'it's amazing she survived the injury at all. Let's hope we have more luck this afternoon with Edward Fade. Tomorrow we'll speak to the asylum witnesses.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 31**

Alec helped Crumbe out of the boat. Hugo passed the agreed sum of money to the skipper for safe passage so far, to Cologne. The fishing captain was unable to take them further and they would need to hike from here on. The journey had taken two gruelling days holed up together. All they'd eaten was dry bread and salted fish. Alec desperately needed a whisky but Crumbe said they must keep moving. Their footwear was inadequate so the skipper gave them some thick woollen socks and gum boots. They were wearing overcoats and hats but the weather was colder than in England. Alec agreed, they must keep moving if only to stay warm.

The vessel had taken them along the Rhine, entering its mouth near Amsterdam. From here they had travelled past Essen, turning south to Cologne. Crumbe had thought to bring a compass, and told Alec they had to go south-east towards their destination of Niederkassel. According to the papers Alec had taken, this was near to where the chateau lay. Pretty soon they would stop at a small town where Crumbe was certain he could change up their English pounds for deutschemarks. Here, he assured Alec, they would also stop for some refreshment.

Despite the thick socks, within ten minutes Alec's toes were numb. He looked at Crumbe striding ahead and wondered where he might have secreted the gun. Instantly and shockingly he had a vision of Mrs Gee lying in the pool of blood. He shook his head and imagined wrestling the gun from his companion and shooting him. The same pool of blood now belonged to Crumbe and Alec gave a smirk as he trudged along.

'What are you smiling about?' Crumbe said, suddenly looking back at Alec.

'I was thinking about the chateau,' Alec lied, 'of building the Movement up in the glorious Fatherland.'

'Spoken like a true patriot,' Crumbe answered, a little too dryly for Alec's liking.

'Are you sure it will be safe to stop?' Alec asked.

'We're on my home turf now,' Crumbe said, 'try not to look so nervous. If we get noticed it will be because of you, my friend.'

Alec made a mental note to get the gun at whatever cost as soon as Crumbe's attention was diverted. He wanted to say if anything it would be the stupid gum boots that got them noticed, but decided to keep quiet. As soon as the money was changed up Crumbe would have outlived his usefulness. And the smirk appeared on his face again as they finally saw the town ahead.

Christmas had been very different for Robert Drayton. He visited Mrs Gee every day and at some expense took flowers or candies from the Belgravia Chocolate shop. At Gentleman's Row he kept Mademoiselle and Ellinor informed of her progress. On Christmas day he invited Gloria and Ellen to join him and between them they cooked and ate most of the rabbit curry along with the traditional dinner Gloria prepared. Using Mrs Gee's Good Housekeeping cookbook Gloria roasted potatoes and braised a breast of lamb with parsnips and carrots. She and Ellen had also cooked sprouts and cabbage from the kitchen garden. Mrs Gee had shown the girls how to make a 'thrifty' Christmas pudding that October, and since then it had rested in some precious brandy.

Mr Drayton hadn't seen so much food in a very long time, and insisted Mademoiselle and Ellinor share their Christmas lunch. This they had on trays in their basement flat, refusing as always to come out and be sociable. It was perhaps a shame they missed the pudding lit up with the last few drops of brandy, flames of blue and gold licking its fat, tempting body. After the meal the girls brought out homemade hats folded from newspaper and Mr Drayton taught them how to play charades. Later in the afternoon he dozed in the guest lounge while Gloria and Ellen cleared away the dishes and put all the leftovers in the meat safe.

As he was still sleeping they left a note saying they'd gone to church, and would pray that evening for Mrs Gee's recovery. This was extremely important to Gloria as she needed her job and continued to hope that Ellen would be able to join her at Gentleman's Row. With careful housekeeping she'd managed to save a third of the money needed for her mother's headstone. If she stayed in employment, Gloria calculated the memorial could be put in place the following summer.

The sisters swayed to the carols they sang in church that day. Gloria hugged Ellen to her as tears escaped her eyes. Gratitude and happiness surged into her heart for her God, along with the dread and sorrow of what had befallen her employer. All she could do now was to pray that everything would turn out for the best.

It was as if Christmas hadn't taken place at all for Inspector Hawking. At eight in the morning on 27th December he sat at his desk and got straight back to business. Drinking his first cup of tea Hawking needed a little time to sift through Edward Fade's statement of the previous day. Remarkably, Fade had filled in some of the gaps he'd been seeking. He told officers about Mrs Gee's appointment, of how she signed the necessary papers making Alec Silver the sole beneficiary to her estate in Germany.

In what appeared to be a true spirit of cooperation he also admitted to telling his cell leader Hugo Crumbe about the incident. He realised this was a breach of client confidentiality. But in view of the fact the Movement needed any funds they could muster he thought it was his duty to inform him. He also admitted to helping in the acquisition of a Beretta semi-automatic handgun, and of supplying it to Silver. The doctor had given the said weapon to Crumbe as a show of loyalty, but Fade was unsure as to his actual allegiance to the Movement.

Asked whether it was likely Crumbe and Silver could have left England together, Fade shrugged his shoulders. He said the two were not close, but in his experience anything was possible. He denied knowing anything about drug money or the attack on Mrs Gee, but admitted to sometimes acquiring weapons, mostly guns for the Movement. He refused to name any others who were part of the cell, and when shown a picture of Stanley maintained he'd never seen him before. In his statement he also asserted that Mrs Gee seemed very confident she and Silver would be a married couple very soon.

It didn't take Hawking long to find out about the special licence and of the proposed date of marriage. On the desk in front of him were also the copy documents Fade had produced with the deeds of Mrs Gee's chateau in Germany. He was still unsure if the men had really done a bunk together. Stanley had been cooperative up to a point, but now refused to give out any further names. It seemed likely Silver had attacked Mrs Gee, in which case he might possibly have ran off with Crumbe.

He called for Grimes and asked him if he'd made contact yet with Silver and Crumbe's banks. Everything had been closed for the Christmas break but it seemed Silver had drawn money from his account on the 23rd December. Crumbe probably had access to cash from the sweetshop till, Hawking reasoned. Very late that evening Mr Drayton and Ellinor Girard heard arguing coming from the kitchen at Gentleman's Row. But as the chateau was already in Silvers' name, what motive could he have for murdering Mrs Gee? Had he attacked her on Crumbe's orders? Hawking couldn't really see how having her dead would benefit either man.

He took a gulp of tea and a bite of garibaldi. Officers had found Silver's black shirt in his wardrobe along with several empty whisky bottles. Silver was a respected doctor at the asylum but it was obvious he needed to impress Crumbe. Perhaps Silver had helped him to get away simply out of loyalty. In any case both men were in it up to their necks, guilty of crimes which could send them to prison for a very long stretch indeed. As for Fade, he'd been charged with smuggling and supplying weapons for the illegal Movement, and would not be resuming his work as a trusted solicitor.

The inspector turned his mind to the other matter in question, that of the child abduction. He finished his tea and leant back in his chair. Grimes had just left to collect Marcia Crumbe for further questioning on the subject. Plain clothes officers were bringing in Juliette León and Daniel Kingdom along with Rose Lowe as escort nurse. Both patients had been under Doctor Silver's care and Juliette had also been looked after by Stanley. Hawking was keen to get as detailed as possible statements from these two, as any further evidence might provide a lead about the missing doctor. He felt sure if they found Silver, Crumbe would not be too far away. Taking no chances, he'd also called Interpol the previous evening, giving descriptions of the two men and the details of the German chateau. If they were making their way there, he was confident they would be intercepted quite quickly.

A knock at the door made him jump. The desk sergeant appeared, informed him the witnesses from the asylum had arrived and that Marcia Crumbe was also on her way. Hawking deftly sorted his papers and came out into the waiting area. Rose Lowe was sitting with Juliette but Daniel was to arrive later. It seemed he had an appointment at Chase Farm for removal of stitches from his arm wound, meaning Grimes would have to go back out to pick him up. Hawking saw that Juliette's eyes were reddened, as if she'd been crying.

'I won't keep you long,' he told her. A car drew up outside the station and as the doors slammed shut Juliette winced. Rose held her hand as if preparing her for more bad news; further pain. Grime's voice became louder as he led someone up the steps, clacking heels reaching all those in the entrance lobby. The desk sergeant stood ready with a fountain pen hovering over the thick record book. In through the heavy doors came Grimes, ushering a thick-set woman. Her back to Juliette, she was led to the desk where her name and address were taken. Grimes then asked her to take a seat until she was called. She spun to face Rose, her face contorted with mockery.

'Very well,' she spat. Juliette's head had been bowed as if praying so she hadn't seen the woman's expression. It was the voice that made her look up.

As if in slow-motion, Juliette raised her face and looked straight into the eyes of Marcia Crumbe. She was older but no less self-engulfed, and that same expression of spite brought the past spinning back like a blade. Juliette's wounds tore open, and all at once her heart bled with grief and loss. She tried to speak, but her throat had closed, her breath coming thick and fast as her body contorted in a frenzy of sobs.

'Juliette, whatever is the matter?' Rose said, her arm slipping around her patient's shoulders.

'It's her, it's her, _her!_ ' Juliette pointed as best she could, at the woman who had just sat in the chair opposite.

Marcia Crumbe sneered at them both, then looked up and shrugged her broad shoulders at the Inspector. He encouraged Juliette to stand and led her and Rose to an interview room. They sat her in a chair while Rose went to fetch some water.

'Who is it you think that woman is?' Hawking said kindly to the gasping and perspiring Juliette.

'Not think - I know who she is!' She drew herself up as if commanding an inner strength. 'She's the Blokova, she's the one who stole my baby Anna!'

****~~~****

**Chapter 32**

Inspector Hawking finished reading a report. Miss Kimble from the Welfare Department had done some digging of her own. In it were findings that, along with Lena's hospital account, made him gasp. Pushing away his midday cup of tea he rose and re-entered Interview Room 2 where Marcia Crumbe had previously been questioned about her husband's activities. Today she denied knowing Alec Silver, Charge Nurse Stanley or Edward Fade, but had to admit knowing Mrs Gee, Ellinor and Mademoiselle. Hawking now used a fresh approach.

'Take your mind back to 1940, if you will,' he said, 'where were you?' Marcia squirmed and looked away.

'In Germany.' she said in a gruff tone.

'Exactly where in Germany?'

'I don't really remember.' Hawking's hands formed into fists and he banged one of them down in front of her. She didn't flinch.

'Let's put it this way, shall I?' Hawking said, 'I happen to know you were a guard at Ravensbruk Concentration Camp and that your now present husband worked as a chef for the Third Reich.'

'Nonsense, that's utter nonsense.' she said.

'Is it? Is it also nonsense that your daughter ran away from home because you have been beating her and generally mistreating her?'

'She has plenty to eat and a roof over her head. What more can a mother provide?' Marcia turned her reptilian eyes on him. 'Surely you don't believe what a stupid ten-year old has to say?'

Hawking paused for a moment before answering. Among other things he needed to steady his temper. It seemed Marcia Crumbe had not recognised Juliette from the entrance lobby, but then why should she? Her long brunette curls would then have been cropped and her head covered with a prison scarf. Her pregnant but starved body would also have been disguised by a camp dress and if she were lucky, an old coat. Footwear, probably oversized boots, would have obscured her shapely legs.

'This evidence comes from the hospital and the Health and Welfare department, Mrs Crumbe.' He said the words in a slow, measured tone and watched her expression change from arrogance to one of fury.

'What do they know!' she shouted, 'they haven't had to put up with the child, day in, day out, asking things, always asking. Eating me out of house and home, and this country, still not even decent bread to buy when the war has been over for more than three years -'

'But she's not your child, is she?' Hawking interjected, 'You are not her real mother.' Marcia looked about the room furtively, as if the neighbours were listening.

'We adopted her.' she hissed.

'And we've looked at those adoption papers, Mrs Crumbe.' Hawking sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at her gloved hands, snaking around the handles of her bag. She turned her face away. He got up and walked about the room.

'Guess what we found,' he said. Still she said nothing. 'They were expertly forged, the same as both your passports. And how do you account for the fact that your sister-in-law also uses a false name? That since 1940 she has pretended to be the daughter of Mrs Girard? What have you got to say about that?'

'I demand to see my solicitor.' A smug look adorned her features.

'All in good time,' he said, 'what if I were to say to you that when you were a guard at Ravens -'

'You can't prove anything!' Marcia smirked. Hawking turned his eyes on her again.

'When you were a guard you stole a child, a baby, to help cover your escape with Hugo Crumbe from Germany. That child would now be eight years old, not ten, and that child is Lena, the one you claim to have adopted.'

'Why would I do such a thing?' Marcia set her jaw at Hawking, but her face paled.

'Because you had agreed to carry a surrogate child for a German official. After that child died you made your sister-in-law swap the dead baby for the live baby, Lena.'

'No, that's not, what has Ellinor said?'

'You tried to pass off Lena as your child, but when the officer came to your house his wife reacted to the baby's appearance. She didn't believe you and her husband had produced it. That frightened you into coming to England.'

'You don't understand.'

'Don't I? I'm sorry to say I disagree.'

'Its all very well you making these accusations \- where is your proof?' Her shocked expression hung in the air before him.

'Oh, I have more than enough proof, Mrs Crumbe. It was easy for you to falsify her age when you returned from being evacuated, tampering again with her birth certificate. Ellinor is willing to testify in court about the kidnap. And I have the real mother of the child. She's right here, alive and well, just a few doors away.' Marcia's face fell.

'Sie lugen,' she said, in a softer tone, - _'you lie.'_

'You thought she was dead, didn't you?' Marcia looked down at her shoes, expensive shoes that a confectioner and tobacconist's wife shouldn't have been able to afford. 'You can have your solicitor for all I care,' he said, 'in the meantime you will be kept here and questioned later by an officer from MI5. Right now I've got more important things to attend to.'

Hugo Crumbe was proving to be a fitter man than Alec Silver. For all his portly figure and older years he hadn't tired since they climbed out of the fishing boat. Eventually they stopped at a small town and while Crumbe changed the money into deutschemarks, Alec found a café where they could rest over a light lunch. All he really wanted was a stiff measure of whisky. This he ordered and had nearly finished by the time Crumbe joined him.

'Steady on with the drinking,' Crumbe said quietly, 'we've still got a long way to go.'

'Just one more,' Alec promised. Hugo took his overcoat off and ordered sausages and pickles from the menu. He rubbed his hands together when the food arrived.

'Aren't you eating?' he said.

'No fear, it looks disgusting.'

'You'll have to do better than that if you're to settle here,' A superior look spread over Hugo's face. He continued in a louder, native tongue, 'kostliches.'- _'delicious.'_

When finished, Crumbe went to the bar for a drink. He'd left his overcoat on the back of the chair, and Alec carefully rifled through it. Hugo had left a small piece of bread on his plate, dark, hard looking bread that Alec now tried. It tasted dreadful but at least he'd eaten something. His stomach growled as if asking for more but Alec simply drained his glass and waited.

On and on they trudged, across icy fells and down-land valleys. It was important even with a compass they keep to the river's edge, Crumbe insisted. When night fell by chance they happened upon an old cottage, a ruin with only half a roof. Alec wondered who'd lived in it, a peasant perhaps or even a smallholder before the war happened. Bullet holes splattered the walls and perhaps whoever lived there had been killed, or driven away to some other existence.

An old pile of thatch had slipped from the roof into the main part of the cottage. The men checked it for mice and rats, poking at it with their gum boots. Then they used it as bedding, piling it over them ready for the long night of freezing temperatures. Crumbe soon dropped off to sleep, snoring and sighing, preventing Alec from any real form of rest. But none of that mattered, as tonight he needed to stay awake. Crumbe hadn't missed the gun and it was now that Alec slowly took it from his coat to check it.

It was empty. Alec came out in a cold sweat. Slowly, he found the case of papers. It opened silently as he peered inside. It was very dark, thick cloud obscuring moon and stars. Alec took out his pipe and pretended to light it. There, among the papers for the chateau and the shredded marriage licence were a few scattered bullets. Quickly he gathered them up as Crumbe slept blissfully on.

He shut the case and in the dark, carefully loaded the gun.

****~~~****

It was beginning to sink in, though Juliette could hardly believe it. Rose explained to her how she'd compiled a case study of all Juliette had told her over the months at Moorvale Asylum. Rose had also visited Mother Lawrence at St Joseph's Convent and been allowed to copy Juliette's memories from the daily log. But it seemed very strange she'd thought it important enough to report to Sergeant Grimes and Inspector Hawking. In a brave move, Rose drew their attention to not only the drug discrepancies but also the way Alec Silver managed and treated his patients, both male and female.

He seemed to have a deep grudge not only against Juliette but also against the three servicemen who'd arrived battle fatigued. One of them had since died, probably due to negligence on Silver's part. Now, sitting with Rose in a diner near the station, Juliette realised the policemen really _did_ believe her story. Strange as it might be, they'd been questioning her Blokova for another, quite different matter altogether. It was somehow connected with the child in the asylum grounds.

It was Rose who realised the significance that day of the baby-hat in the bright, knitted colours. She knew Juliette's story backwards and had calculated on night shifts that Juliette's child would now be eight years' old. The Inspector and Peter Grimes had given her hope this story could end well, but Rose didn't dare say so to Juliette. The Crumbe woman was being questioned as they ate and once they returned to the station the day might just improve even more.

Just as the spotted-dick pudding arrived the door opened and Inspector Hawking entered. With him were a middle-aged lady and a young child with short hair and spectacles. Juliette looked up and as if a shadow had gained form, smiled at the child. Lena, recognising her from the day of the attack, smiled back. As their eyes met Juliette saw the reflection she'd searched for in her soul. Instantly the cauldron of ashes in her heart ignited. She waved the child over and shared her dessert. The Inspector was introducing the woman as Miss Kimble from the Welfare Department, was explaining the child was there that fateful morning just before Christmas, and that her name was Lena.

'We remember her, don't we Juliette?' Rose said.

'You were a very brave girl that day,' Juliette volunteered, as naturally as any mother. Lena became coy, shy of this beautiful yet strangely familiar woman.

'Show the lady,' Miss Kimble urged Lena, and she reached into her haversack. Out of it came the coloured hat. Lena placed it gently in Juliette's lap.

'I thought I'd imagined it,' Juliette began, gasping for breath, 'wherever did you find it?' Her mind quickly went to that place she was so frightened of, the place where her child was gone forever, cold and dead to the world and buried, like so many she'd been forced to see buried at the camp..,

'It's mine.' Lena said.

'But, where did you find it?' She turned to Rose. 'Please tell me, what happened to my baby, my little Annalina?'

They were all smiling at Juliette; Lena, Rose, Miss Kimble and Inspector Hawking. Juliette waited for them to tell her, feared they were about to mock her with the terrible news that somewhere in Germany her child's grave had been discovered.

'This is your Annalina,' Miss Kimble said softly, taking Juliette's hand as she said the words, the same words that now caused her to cry.

'Can it really be true?' The tears dripped into the bowl where the pudding had been shared. She lifted her face to Lena's, stroked her face, her hair, with trembling hands.

'You're alive,' she said, and Lena smiled at her through misted lenses.

Suddenly they needed to hold one another so close, so tight, so that they would never ever be parted again.

A weak winter sun broke the morning cloud. Alec was awake, his senses heightened at the prospect of killing again. Leaving the cottage he walked some way and gathered mushrooms for breakfast. He had an appetite today and wolfed some of them raw before returning to Crumbe. Among the debris in the cottage he found an old skillet, and making a fire of the thatch bed fried the mushrooms. He served a helping to his companion.

'Very tasty,' Hugo slapped him on the back, 'but very soon we will only dine in the top restaurants, keep the best company and wear only the finest clothes. Yes?'

'Yes,' Alec laughed heartily at what he hoped Hugo took as camaraderie.

'There is something I wish to remind you of,' Hugo said, leaning back on his elbows. 'You recall I told you how my wife had the surrogate child?'

'Go on,' Alec said, remembering Hugo's daughter had recently gone missing.

'The officer in question needed a child, preferably a girl. I told you Marcia came from a good German family?'

'Why didn't they simply adopt?' Alec asked, trying to sound interested.

'At the time I overheard talk of children from other cultures brought up as Germans. But what he demanded was because of the same ideology we admire. So I allowed it, I farmed her out to be mated with him, like a..,' Here Hugo trailed off and looked down at his empty plate. Alec sat up, slightly more alert to the conversation.

'But you told me what happened.'

'Not everything, my friend. When the child was born she was,' here Hugo paused before saying, 'not properly formed. It caused her death.'

'How unfortunate.' Alec chewed his breakfast thoughtfully. 'Why did they want a girl?' he said.

'Another, very important officer had a boy of four years. Together they arranged for the children to be promised, to help start the new age with an Arian generation for Germany.'

'Why are you telling me all this now?'

'Because,' Crumbe continued, 'I want you to know that I too, have served my country and my Fuehrer. And, that if you have any doubts about sharing your riches with me and Marcia, you should forget them.'

'I see,' Alec's thoughts went immediately to the gun in his pocket.

'I'm not sure you realise what we went through,' Hugo continued, 'after the child died I felt we'd failed. I was promised promotion of personal chef to the Fuehrer, but it was certain we would both be blamed.'

'So that's when you swapped the child?'

'Exactly my friend. The paperwork was doctored, and Marcia brought the live child home.'

'And the women covered up for each other?'

'Of course, but that was not the end of it.' Crumbe lit a cigarette.

'Why? Didn't the camp child survive?'

'Oh yes, even under the circumstances she was strong. But when the officers' wife challenged Marcia it was imperative to get away.'

'You couldn't very well explain,' Alec reasoned.

'No, as I told you before our deception would have spelled certain death. Through my father I knew of a distant relative in Barnet, Mademoiselle Girard, who allowed us to lease her shop. Soon after my sister became her companion. They're still alive, and live at Gentleman's Row, where I believe you yourself had rooms.'

'What?' Alec's shock was etched across his face. 'You mean the old woman in the basement flat? But she's Mrs Gee's mother!'

'Oh yes,' Hugo confirmed, 'Mrs Gee knew all about it, but she kept silent all these years. That's what I wanted to tell you. That I hope she will be joining us when we've set everything up over here. You can rest assured Greta is one of the most loyal people I've ever met.'

After a wash in the freezing river they continued to Niederkassel, a large town on the banks of the Rhine. By midday the men had been walking for five hours. The river was wide and flanked with trees and shrubs. Spiny branches reached into the cold grey sky while ice clogged roots dripped into the earth. Alec's feet were completely numb and his stomach gnawed. He insisted they stop again for a short while to celebrate their progress. It could only be a matter of a few miles left to travel. Crumbe agreed, as long as they kept to the outskirts of the town.

In a small tavern, Crumbe and Silver partook of beer, cold meats, hard rye bread and coffee. Alec found it unenjoyable, but at least it was served in copious amounts. He supplemented his lunch with two whiskies, while Hugo took a small glass of apricot schnapps. As their tumblers clinked together Alec thought momentarily it was a shame he would have to kill Crumbe. News of Mrs Gee's death was sure to reach Marcia, who in turn would inform Hugo. In any case he'd never agreed to the idea of sharing his fortune. His feet were coming back to life and although a hard ball pained his stomach, this was the most exciting day since his submarine took the torpedo hit.

While Crumbe was absent Alec lit his pipe and thought about that night. Then all but he had been lost to the mighty ocean. The claim he alone had scuttled the sub was exaggerated, in truth it had been the combined events of incompetence and pure bad luck. The fact he'd briefly been a black-shirt before the war was unknown when he joined the navy. But afterwards, when he needed to re-join the Movement and on meeting Crumbe and Fade, all of it had seemed a good way of scoring some much needed points.

Now Crumbe arrived in front of the open fire, said it was time for the final quest. But Alec again saw the faces of his men, as if they had followed him all this way. They reared above him and he staggered, almost into Hugo's arms.

'Come on,' Crumbe muttered, 'you need some air, my friend.'

Alec straightened up and clumsily negotiated the furniture. In the street the cold air hit his lungs like so many needles. He leant on Crumbe's shoulder and was able to walk. Only a few more miles, he told himself. People stopped and stared at the sight of these two, unshaven and wearing gum boots that were too large. They veered off towards the river's edge and once more resumed their odyssey.

****~~~****

As the sun melted toward the freezing horizon it seemed to Alec that all his troubles were over. The pink haze coiled through lilac clouds, making an unlikely palette of the wintry sky. Crumbe had gone on ahead as soon as he noticed the huge edifice that loomed on the cliff edge. Clutching his middle, although only complaining of indigestion, he climbed the iced mount towards the gateway to their paradise.

This was it, why they had travelled so far.

The chateau hovered above Alec, its gothic arches and stone walls appearing like an impenetrable golden castle. The long climb up the mountain saw both men halt often to catch their breath, and only after an hour was the final stretch in sight. The pain in Alec's middle wasn't gone, if anything was far worse, but he couldn't worry about that now. All he wanted, all he needed, was here. All except for Hugo Crumbe.

He'd almost forgotten his oath to finish the man, but as he stumbled towards the mighty entrance he managed to fish out the gun and gain some ground. Alec's breath was coming thick and fast, he was determined to enter this palace first. He shouted, 'Hey, wait a minute,' but no reply came. Scrambling up the driveway, Alec saw a crumpled figure laid out on the path. It looked like a pile of rags, but he could see gum boots on its feet and realised Hugo must have collapsed. A smile spread across Alec's face. The old fool had overdone it, but in passing out had made it all very easy for him.

Coming up beside Crumbe Alec turned him over. He was indeed unconscious and maybe, because of his strange colour, even dead. Just to be sure, Alec aimed the gun and shot him in the head. The crack echoed across the valley and bounced off the darkening ranges. Alec crouched down instinctively before realising there was no one to hear the shot. He got to his feet as quickly as he could and clutching his stomach lurched towards the glittering tower of happiness that was now his, _all his._

He flung open the outer wooden door, huge at more than twice his height. The first thing he saw was an anti-room or entrance hall, dulled and covered in silt and rubble. But the next door was inlaid with Italian marble and gold leaf, a sign of the riches held within - just for him. Alec's heart missed a beat as he prised open this inner door.

He collapsed into the room. Agonised, he surveyed all he owned. For a second the sun's final rays brightened, searing Alec's eyes. Spinning around the filthy floor, he squirmed and gasped and screamed.

'No, no! NO!'

The floor spread out beneath him like a glass tablecloth, with Alec in the middle as a doomed animal. The walls had long since fallen away, replaced by trees and undergrowth, weeds and brambles. Like a huge mask, the chateau's façade hid its ruins. Now as Alec exhaled, he sobbed and shook in an uncontrollable fit of rage.

Unable to stand for the extreme pain, he writhed and spat and retched until he moved no more.

****~~~****

**Chapter 33**

Walking back to the police station Juliette was floating, flying through this new world where beyond all hope, Annalina had been restored to her. But Lena had to stay with the foster family a while longer. Asked of any family in England, Juliette told Miss Kimble of Dulcie Ham. She lived at 5 Trent Road, Enfield. Her maiden name was León as she was her paternal grandfather's sister. She married an English soldier in 1918 but was now widowed. Juliette also told Miss Kimble it was Dulcie who called the doctor after she became so ill. He had insisted it would take long-term treatment at Moorvale to help her.

She confided her memory was growing stronger every day. Miss Kimble said while this was gratifying she must return to the asylum for the time being. Meanwhile she would ask Mrs Ham if she might be of assistance once more. Until her discharge from Moorvale, Juliette would be allowed supervised visits with Lena on a weekly basis. She was then asked if, simply for added confirmation, whether there were any identifying birth marks or other information she could provide about Lena. Immediately she told Miss Kimble about a heart-shaped birthmark on her baby's right shoulder blade. Juliette spent some minutes worrying in Interview Room 1 while Miss Kimble investigated. After what seemed to be a lifetime, Inspector Hawking entered the room and smiled broadly at Juliette.

'We've found the birthmark, and there's just time to say goodbye to Lena,' Juliette smiled back at him with fresh tears glistening in her eyes.

There was something especially magical about that day, the way the sun fell softly through light wisps of lace-like cloud, and the way, as if the stars had precisely aligned, that her eyes fell upon his face. She'd just stepped out of the interview room and turning the corner, felt as if she were floating once more. She stopped short outside Interview Room 2 just as the door opened. Expecting to see Lena, Juliette stepped back as an unexpected excitement rose to her heart.

She was face to face with Daniel Kingdom. Juliette recognised him from the asylum, but there was something different today. His beard had been shaved making him appear even thinner, but she saw what up to now had gone undetected. As she looked into his unique eyes it hit her that all along he'd been so near, right there at Moorvale, right under her very nose.

'Juliette!' he said, his face lighting up, 'Is it really you?'

'Daniel?'

As frail as he seemed he swept her into his arms, holding her in a vice-like grip. 'It's you, it's really you,' he breathed into her soft hair. He smiled into her dark eyes and stroked her still bruised face with trembling hands. Miss Kimble appeared with Lena and seeing the two of them, shot Hawking an inquisitive glance.

'Oh, I have to tell you,' Juliette gasped as she broke away from him, 'this is Daniel Kingdom, he's, well there's no easy way to say this.' She glanced furtively from Daniel's face to Lena's. 'He's Annalina's father.'

'What?' Daniel choked. 'Who is Annalina?' Miss Kimble gestured towards Lena. 'But she's the little girl who was attacked,' he said, 'I don't understand.' He turned to Juliette, and at the same time Lena broke into a huge smile, confusion spread across his features. Inspector Hawking rapidly took charge of the situation.

'Miss Kimble, could you take Lena into Interview Room 1 please? Daniel and Juliette too. I will join you in a moment, but I must arrange some tea. The situation needs to be fully explained, but we shall definitely need tea.'

Miss Kimble nodded obligingly and shepherded the family down the corridor, with Lena smiling broadly and bouncing along between a dazed Daniel and Juliette.

A slow thaw began after the New Year of 1949. Icicles melted while snow lay in drifts that clogged drains and muddied pavements. Birds sang tentatively from treetops and squirrels left snug nests to venture into the cold for food. From Hummingbird ward Juliette watched expectantly at the window. She had to crane her neck to see the huge gates open to allow the car through. She was dressed not in the asylum garb but in her own clothes of light grey suit, pink blouse and brown shoes, the same things she had arrived in all those months ago.

The outfit was loose on her skinny frame, but the future promised improved health away from Moorvale. She caught her breath as she spotted Daniel, accompanied by Superintendent Marsh, walking out onto the gravel driveway. He was wearing his army uniform and looked very smart, though it hung freely. Due for a period of convalescence at the convent, they were to be driven there that morning. Nurse Lowe, with tears in her eyes, pinned a small corsage of heather onto Juliette's jacket lapel.

'You will come to the wedding, won't you?' Juliette asked.

'You try and stop me.' Her voice snagged on the words.

Juliette kissed her on both cheeks and held her close. Then she waved goodbye to all on Hummingbird and made her way out to join Daniel. Since reuniting with him and Lena just a week since she'd continued to walk on air. Now her crunched footsteps were surprising, as if awakening her to the fantastic truth. She thanked Superintendent Marsh and allowed Daniel to assist her into the car. As it rolled down the long drive Daniel found Juliette's hand and held it tightly. No words were needed as they looked hopefully into each others eyes.

From the entrance gates, Cecil raised a hand in farewell before trudging back to his hut. Things would be different now with no Dolly or Charge Nurse Stanley, no Doctor Silver and now no Ellen in the wash-house. As he walked something buzzed past him, clipped his right ear and made him gasp. He gave a sideways glance towards the chapel and its little graveyard but kept walking. Inside the outhouse he curled up in the cubby hole he'd made for Lena.

Gloria and Ellen had scrubbed and polished everything in Gentleman's Row for the homecoming. Mr Drayton insisted it must all gleam for the arrival of Mrs Gee. Now, as the hall clock showed two in the afternoon, both girls stood to welcome her as she walked unsteadily into the lobby.

'Gloria, Ellen, hello.' Mrs Gee said, but stumbled slightly with the effort of it all. Mr Drayton supported her and took her gently into the guest lounge. The two girls, at Mr Drayton's nod, ran to the kitchen to fetch tea and cake, bringing it up smartly on a lace covered tray. Gloria set it on the coffee table and poured out the hot beverage, passing it to Ellen to serve. Mrs Gee smiled and drank her tea and even ate something, but said little. The girls left the room and after tidying the kitchen, set off for home. They had left paste sandwiches and some apple pie for supper time, as this Mr Drayton insisted, he could manage himself.

It was all in the papers, how Doctor Silver had been found by Interpol having shot the proprietor of a Barnet sweet shop. He would have hanged for it the article said, if he hadn't died himself first. Quite whether it had been an accident nobody knew, but he and the shopkeeper had died from eating deadly mushrooms. Why he had then shot his companion was still a mystery, but it all added to the ghoulish history of their black-shirt involvement. It wasn't that the shopkeeper was all that innocent either; it seemed he was wanted for several offenses including drug dealing and weapon smuggling.

Mr Drayton hid the headlines from Mrs Gee. Today's priority was to settle her back home and make certain she got a good night's sleep. He would sleep on the settee, ready to come to her aid if she needed him. After her tea he left her to doze while he knocked at Mademoiselle's door. He wished only to inform her of her daughter's return. It was strange how Mademoiselle went by the name of an unmarried damsel, when in fact she was as old as the hills. He knocked twice with no reply, before trying the handle. Entering her rooms, he found her also asleep. With no sign of Ellinor, he left the apartment and closed the door softly behind him.

The Pink sisters were returned from their holiday, and full of probing questions. Mr Drayton joined them later in the dining room, having laid out the table for supper.

'Do you really think Doctor Silver attacked Mrs Gee?' Alice asked. 'I read in the paper how he poisoned himself and his accomplice.'

'He wasn't as clever as we thought,' Lucy added, as Mr Drayton took a paste sandwich and put it neatly on his plate. 'Alice thinks he ran away to Germany because he was a Nazi.'

'I don't think we should speculate about any of it,' Mr Drayton began, 'but clearly the stability of his mind had gone.'

'Oh,' Alice said, a disappointed look overcoming her face, 'What happened to Mrs Gee wasn't a crime of passion then?'

Lucy aimed a clumsy kick at her sister's leg. She asked how Mrs Gee was doing. Mr Drayton told them she would need a long and gentle recovery, and requested they please keep the gramophone to a minimum in the lounge. He hadn't touched his tea, and looked worried. Excusing himself, he returned to care for his landlady, while the two girls tucked into the apple pie.

It was the strangest new year Inspector Hawking could remember but he was nonetheless thrilled with the outcome. After questions from an MI5 agent Marcia Crumbe eventually caved in and admitted to Hugo's close connection to officers in the Third Reich. He knew of plans and secrets, whittled out in exchange for fine spirits and cigars he stole from the cellars. While officers had been in conference Hugo had listened in by putting his head through the dumb waiter hatch. The shaft led straight to the meeting room where no one was allowed once the doors closed. At home he'd relayed information to Marcia about the planned death camps and of the ethnic cleansing they called _The Final Solution._

Marcia claimed to have saved Lena from horrific experiments, but this was disregarded by the agent from MI5. As the time drew nearer to giving up the child Hugo told her the war might be almost over, that victory was set for Germany but failure on their part would never be tolerated. When the officer and his wife visited a week after Marcia's birth date they didn't realise Annalina was older because she was so small. After the wife's questions Marcia became spooked.

Through the contact Estelle Girard they fled to London with Hugo's sister, as well as the money already paid. But even with Ellinor's false name they needed to be careful. She was moved to Mademoiselle's flat under the guise of her daughter. Over time the stress of discovery sparked off a skin reaction in Ellinor that meant she had no desire to meet or mix with people. Indoors as a virtual prisoner was how she'd lived for the past seven years. Now, both women were to be extradited back to Germany to give evidence at the Nuremburg Trials concerning Nazi war crimes and the atrocities at Ravensbruk. If they were co-operative the MI5 operative asserted, it could prove advantageous to their future and the judges might possibly go easy on them.

Interpol sent their report having found both Silver and Crumbe days ago. Although Crumbe had a bullet through his skull, both men strangely died of mushroom poisoning. Mrs Gee was home after her assault but had very little strength, and precious little memory of the attack. Perhaps it was rough justice, Silver dying by accident and not hanging for Crumbe's murder. Crumbe had also escaped capture and giving vital evidence at the Nuremburg Trials. From the report it was also evident that the chateau Silver risked everything for had been reduced to ruins during the latter part of the war. Only the façade remained, behind which lay no riches, no victory: No glory.

Hawking took a sip of tea. Outside a freezing stair-rod rain was adding to the slush. The smog laden sky was puce and he had to turn on his desk lamp to read. Thoughtfully he nibbled the corner of a biscuit. He'd managed to keep Juliette León and Daniel Kingdom's story out of the papers and that's where he wanted it to stay. God knew the country needed some good news but theirs was a private victory. He for one did not wish them hounded by reporters. He'd received a call from the War Office, a doctor named Warren who had referred Kingdom and his comrades for treatment at the asylum following what he termed attacks of _collective shock._

Without revealing any secrets Warren filled Hawking in over Operation Eavesdrop, how Daniel and his team got a top engineer and double agent out of Germany and safely into the hands of the allies. Warren also told him how Juliette had been trained by the French Resistance and, as an expert skier, had led several servicemen across the Jura Mountains into unoccupied France at the start of the war. It was on such an offensive that she and Kingdom's team were captured, she ending up in Ravensbruk while Daniel and his men were taken to Dachau.

Warren didn't mention the romance between Juliette and Daniel, and Hawking was pleased about his probable ignorance of it. He sipped his tea and smiled. It was splendid to see Grimes walking out with that very capable nurse, Rose Lowe. He made a mental note to invite them both for tea with himself and Mrs Hawking. He would ask his wife to make some of her delicious rock cakes. The telephone rang. It was Chief Superintendent Remnant.

'What can I do for you sir?' Hawking said, immediately straightening up.

'It's more a case of what we would like to do for you, Hawking. This will come through in writing, but I wanted to let you know personally. After being mentioned in despatches, you've been put forward for a special commendation and Sergeant Grimes for a bravery award.' Hawking nearly dropped the receiver.

'Well thank you sir- I don't know what to say.'

'Well, I do. Jolly well done, that goes to all at Edgware.'

'Thank you sir; I'll be sure to pass that on.'

'It's a shame Silver and Crumbe escaped justice, but from what I've heard from MI5 and Interpol, at least the women face trial. I don't think there are any loose ends to tie up, are there?'

'Not as far as I know. And I'll be sure to tell Sergeant Grimes right away.'

'Good man. And well done again Hawking. Excellent work.'

****~~~****

**Chapter 34**

The long thaw was over, and at last winter morphed into spring. Bright yellow daffodils pushed through dewy banks along with wild primroses and crocus. The sky turned from a muddy grey to baby blue, clouds scudding across it like shreds of cotton wool. God's green was everywhere, in the fresh new lawns to the lush shoots and succulent leaves that now clothed the once naked trees.

Gloria and Ellen walked along the leaf laden avenue of Gentleman's Row. Now living at the house full time, Mr Drayton had installed them in the basement flat which had been Mademoiselle's. It had been just six weeks since the old lady passed away and it had taken the girls almost that long to scrub out and re-paint the place.

Today Gloria took Ellen's arm as the sun shone in dappled patches through the trees and onto the pavement. They wore matching dresses in crisp lemon cotton, ones they brought from Jamaica in what seemed like another lifetime. Cream sandals and beige cardigans complimented their neat hats and spotless gloves.

As they walked to the bus stop Ellen squeezed Gloria's arm and she turned to smile at her sister. It was a perfect day for a wedding, but as they travelled strange frowns from passengers didn't escape them. The conductor leered at them as they jumped off at East Barnet. He held a matchstick between his teeth and hung off the tailgate, watching until the bus was out of sight. The girls walked a few streets before smoothing their skirts outside the Pentecostal Chapel.

Behind the church they found their mother's grave and taking care not to scuff their stockings, bowed before the bright new headstone. Just as they'd dreamed it, a granite column with a beautiful winged angel rose from the top. Both parent's names were inscribed at the base. Gloria had told Mr Drayton about it and he'd given the sisters a bank loan so they could buy it immediately. He told them they would pay back a small sum each week out of their wages.

'Mr Drayton is a good man,' Ellen said.

'He is that,' Gloria agreed. They gazed lovingly at the perfect stone angel, reaching into the sky with one hand, the other clasping a frond of sculptured lilies. 'Have you ever seen anything so wonderful?' Gloria breathed, before a momentary pause. 'Come on Ellen,' she added, 'we mustn't be late.'

Guests were already taking their places at the nearby church of St Joan of Arc. The sisters took seats at the back on the right-hand side, but Alice and Lucy Pink convinced them to move nearer the front. The church was quiet, hushed voices breaking through the silence while the sound of footsteps jarred the ears. In the left pews, others not known to the girls were taking their seats.

Ellen and Gloria hadn't stopped since New Year. Doctor Silver's rooms needed cleaning and they were responsible for the animals as well as planting seeds in the greenhouse for vegetable crops. They did so while running the household, though things were quieter now it was just the Pink sisters, Mr Drayton and Mrs Gee. The doctor's room had been re-let almost immediately to Wilbur Duke. He had taken the job of bus mechanic at the local depot.

After today there would be another room vacant at Gentleman's Row. As Gloria pondered on this she told her sister how much brighter the windows seemed now the doctor was gone. Ellen said she was being silly; it was because she worked her fingers to the bone polishing until they sparkled. But she had to admit the spring had brought more romance to the place. Gloria was surprised to see so many people even though it was a double wedding. Because of high demand, the two couples although strangers had agreed to share the service.

Ellen poked Gloria in the ribs as Mr Drayton arrived. Wearing a smart suit he walked down the isle with his brother. Shortly afterwards Daniel Kingdom entered the church with Wilbur Duke. Alice winked at Lucy when she saw the new tenant. The men positioned themselves at the front pews and waited for their prospective brides. The left-hand side of the church accommodated Inspector Hawking and his wife, Sergeant Grimes and Rose Lowe, Dulcie Ham, Miss Kimble, Superintendent Marsh, Mother Lawrence and Sister Mary Virginia. A hush descended over the congregation as Father Sweeny entered. He stood at the foot of the altar and motioned for those assembled to rise.

All at once the organ struck up and the wedding march began. From the open mouth of the church, the sunlight seemed to light the brides to the altar. Mrs Gee wore a mid-calf dress in blue lace, with half sleeves and a dainty hat. She carried only a prayer book. She was steadied by a lady beside her who Alice said was Mr Drayton's sister. When she arrived at the foot of the nave Mr Drayton helped her to sit.

Juliette followed Mrs Gee at a discreet distance, with Annalina holding her train as well as her own small posy. Her dress was cream parachute silk, fitted at the waist and water-falling into a circular train. Juliette's brunette hair was held up and dressed on one side with silk flowers. She carried a pretty arrangement of pink tulips and grape hyacinths. Annalina wore a dress of pink organza, with a cream sash tied in a bow at the back. Her hair was now long enough to be swept up with a matching ribbon. Juliette joined Daniel and gave her bouquet to Anna. Taking the flowers with great care, her daughter sat with Miss Kimble in the front pew.

Mrs Gee was helped to her feet and the betrothed four faced the vicar, each with new hope and joy in their eyes.

Behind the walls of the asylum, Cecil tended the churchyard. The weeds and brambles were much easier to manage since the servicemen had cleared them. Cecil missed all of them, but most especially Dolly. Mr Marsh told him she'd eventually been buried near her family home in Buckinghamshire. Cecil sighed and wiped his eyes. He was now so lonely that some evenings he ventured out to The Mermaid. He'd struck up quite a rapport with the landlord because amazingly, it seemed Maurice had known his father.

'Like history repeating itself, you coming in here,' Maurice said as he poured Cecil a ginger beer. He saw him study the same photographs he'd shown Doctor Silver. 'Of course I never knew what sort of a man the doctor really was,' Maurice confided to Cecil, 'otherwise I'd never have let him in.' Cecil nodded and gulped his drink as Maurice talked about his favourite subject.

'You do realise,' Maurice continued as Cecil tucked into a packet of Smiths crisps, 'on the subject of the old workhouse, I am a bit of an expert.'

Now the four children were in consecrated graves Cecil studied their memorial stones. He /noticed how ivy was creeping over them. His eyes rested on one in particular, that of _Edith Blake: 1864-1873. Rest in peace,_ the inscription said, like the others. He'd also seen the beginnings of grass and wildflowers sprouting over the courtyard. How strange that nothing had grown there until things had been put right.

Just what Doctor Silver would have advised about the grave of Edith Blake was a mystery. There was no point trying to ask him now, because he was also dead. He went to Germany and got himself poisoned, Mr Marsh told him. The superintendant was a good person, but if Cecil had to confide in anyone it would be Maurice. The landlord would understand that Cecil had only done as he was told, because that was the only way he knew.

He stood up and leaned against the stone wall. From the churchyard he could see the wash house, smoke issuing from its chimney and with a new laundry man employed there. Mr Marsh went on to tell Cecil about a new-fangled idea coming in called the National Health Service. It might mean changes, he'd said. It was only an idea, but perhaps Cecil should think about his own future. Maurice had offered him some casual hours as a cellar-man, helping out in the early mornings with bottling up and such like. Maurice, who had known his own family, and who offered him work, was as good as any brother.

Cecil didn't like to keep anything from family or as near as family could be, but he had promised to keep Mrs Silver a secret. Doctor Silver had said as much, before he went away. No one needed to know that Cecil saw the doctor carry Mrs Silver into his outhouse. It had happened in the autumn, just before the weather got so cold. Mrs Silver was dressed in a nice coat, while a red dress hung from the doctor's arm.

Doctor Silver told him she'd not been well, that he'd driven a long way to collect her and bring her home, but that she died on the way and he must somehow hide her body. Cecil noticed a nasty bruise on her head, that her lips were blue and swollen, while the doctor bore deep scratches across his forearm. Cecil hung his head while the doctor paced up and down his hut. Then he shouted, 'Of course: It's perfect!' and slapped Cecil on the back. 'You must bury her in one of the child's graves.' he demanded. 'It will be our secret; you must promise to keep quiet about it.'

Cecil did as he instructed. That was what his forefathers had always done, especially if asked to do so by a clever person like a doctor. That night he dug up the earth the servicemen had reverently toiled over. It was cold enough for a frost and the soil broke in clumps. With much effort, he laid Ivy's cloaked form on top of Edith Blake's coffin. Then he set to work and refilled the vault.

Now he paused before bending to pick a late daffodil, placing it gently before the headstone. Doctor Silver also instructed Cecil to put the red dress in the donation basket. But he couldn't have known poor Dolly would meet her death wearing the same garment. Slowly and sadly, he shuffled back to his outhouse.

It was a new world now, one where things could be different. It might even turn out to be a fairer world where people could get help if they needed it, better employment and the learning of skills. If he worked as a cellar-man he could live in the very pub his father used to visit. He would have Maurice and his missus for family, and the regulars might become proper friends.

He might never have to be lonely ever again.

****~~~****

**Chapter 35**

From the dry ashes in Juliette's heart a tiny bud erupted. A new shoot rooted and grew every day, until now it was ready to blossom. Every time she rested her eyes on Annalina the fear in her veins thawed, and when her lips met Daniel's, feelings long forgotten bloomed within. Like all those years ago, when their fire had met with mountain ice.

Drifting away though not entirely forgotten, were memories of the camps they had endured. Both hoped that time would help distance the pain and betrayal, while Moorvale Asylum served as a reminder of human cruelty. At times their bright new future was just too overwhelming, and the little family became silent. Then holding each other they laughed and cried at the same time. Lena sometimes tried to sing but choked on the words. Some days they simply gazed at one another in disbelief that they were, against all hope, reunited.

Juliette had found her Annalina, and Daniel had found his Juliette.

Their convalescence at the Convent acted also as a time when they connected and became used to being a family. A few months after joining the nuns they were married, and straight after travelled to Dulcie Ham in Enfield. Staying with her was completely different this time. Before, Juliette slipped into a slow and deepening depression, eventually grieving all day in her room. Now she was able to happily assist in all the cooking, shopping and chores. Dulcie's relief was palpable, and she set to work joyfully making dresses for Anna out of small scraps of fabric she'd saved over the years.

'I'd no idea I'd kept this very nice gingham,' Dulcie told Juliette. 'It's just enough to make a pinafore dress for Anna.' And she began clipping out a pattern, sewing up seams on her Singer machine, turning the wheel to make the stitches catch. Juliette thought it was a bit like listening to a train on a track. The machine running along the fabric and every now and then Dulcie's sighs, much like the release of an engine's steam.

During this time the wheels were set in motion for their new life. After Daniel's demob Juliette was keen to return to France. All three felt ready for a new start. Lena took to her new name of Anna with ease, and enjoyed her genuine, loving parents. Wilbur visited often and sometimes talked about their adventures in the mountains. He seemed to be finding some sort of sense in all that had happened. He became like an uncle to Anna and took her to see the garage where he worked. All the mechanics made a great deal of fuss over her while Juliette and Daniel shopped for clothes and useful items at a nearby bazaar.

Afterwards Wilbur joined them at a Lyons Tea House. They sat quietly until the tea was brought when Wilbur started to giggle. The nippy thought he was laughing at her and flounced off to fetch the cakes. By the time she returned all four were in stitches.

'Here's your cakes,' the nippy snapped, 'is everything alright?'

'Sorry, yes, it's just a private joke,' Daniel said, unable to explain. This scene was as far from their old lives as a trip to the jungle and a monkey's tea party. Anna had aching sides and Juliette had to rub her back when she got the hiccoughs. Gradually they recovered enough to consume the iced buns and jam scones, a treat Wilbur insisted paying for.

'So you're really going to live in France?' he asked, between mouthfuls of sticky bun.

'That's the plan,' Daniel said, 'we're going back to Juliette's village of Lods. Her parent's house is there, if it hasn't been flattened by the Luftwaffe.' Juliette put down her cup.

'If it was bombed, then we shall build a new home.' she said.

'Now how can I fail with a woman like that?' Daniel took her hand and kissed it while Anna and Wilbur laughed.

'And will you ski again? It doesn't seem so long ago you were teaching us to outrun avalanches,' Wilbur said, a serious expression replacing his grin. Suddenly he snapped out of it and smiled again. 'To us,' he said, raising his teacup, 'the survivors!' Their cups clinked together, making some of the customers turn and stare.

'Of course, you will visit us?' Juliette said.

'Oh please Uncle Will, say you will come and live with us,' Anna pleaded.

'That might be taking things a bit far my _petite_ , but I will certainly be visiting. Just try and stop me.'

As preparations continued Dulcie also promised to visit as soon as the family were settled. In their bedroom, what little they possessed Juliette began to sort and pack into a large suitcase. The day was muggy, gathering storm clouds promising an evening thunderstorm. Dulcie was out shopping, probably caught in the usual queues at the local butcher and baker. Daniel had gone into the city to sort out the passports with Juliette's new, married name. Lena was playing on the garden swing Daniel had made using a rope and plank strung from an apple tree.

Juliette pushed back a damp lock of hair and sat on the bed. Beside her was the haversack Anna had taken when she ran away from the Crumbe's. Placing it on her lap, Juliette thought it strange that Mr Crumbe was now dead along with her former doctor, Alec Silver. The Inspector also told her how Marcia Crumbe was sent back to Germany to provide evidence for the War Trials. Juliette wiped the moisture from her top lip. The bag was heavy and hot on her lap. Slowly, she tipped the contents onto the bed beside her.

There was the vibrant knitted hat, the very one the women had made for Anna at the camp. She held it to her face and fancied she detected the sweet smell of her infant child. Then, without warning, the tears fell as she saw their faces. All the women in her hut standing guard as she went through her labour in the dead of night. She'd delivered a new life, a bright star of hope in the bleakness of their desperate, grimy world. They had been her dearest friends. They taught her how to knit thinner soles into socks for the German soldiers, making their feet sore. They brought such precious gifts; a napkin made from a treasured handkerchief, a baby dress made from scraps of blanket, and the wonderful rainbow hat.

Juliette rocked herself as the tears flowed down her face. She gasped for breath, tried not to scream wildly like an animal. With hands shaking she picked up first a torch, a scarf, and then some little paper figures. They had been coloured in pastel shades and tissue wings had been stuck to their backs. They looked like angels, or fairies. Through misted eyes she noticed a battered exercise book on the coverlet. Inside there were more pictures of fairies and a lot of writing in careful, childlike print. In the back of the book she found Anna's personal journal, and her tears fell again. But then she read slowly from the very start of the book. She'd finished all but the last few pages when looking up, she saw Anna at the door.

'Did you read my stories?' she simply said. Juliette smiled and motioned for her to sit beside her.

'Yes, all except for the last part.' Anna picked up a paper fairie and stroked its face. 'Did you think of this all by yourself?'

'Well, I just wrote down what they told me.'

'I see. So you saw these fairies?' Juliette asked.

'Yes, at the asylum, that's why I went to live there. They were my only friends when everyone was so horrid, but now I've found you and daddy.' Juliette paused for a moment before answering.

'In all the years we were parted I never gave up hope of finding you,' she said, fighting back more tears, 'and even when I was terrified you were lost forever, I never stopped loving you.'

'Did we find each other because of magic?' Anna asked her mother, looking deep into her eyes.

'I'm sure that's true.'

'I do love you mummy, and I love daddy,' Anna said, 'but I can't forget what the fairies did for me.' Fat tears rolled from behind Anna's glasses, and Juliette held her close.

'I don't want you to forget them sweetheart,' she said, 'thank you for letting me know about them.'

'Finish the story,' Anna urged, 'I want you to read to the end.' Juliette picked up the book, her free arm around Anna. Her daughter snuggled into her mother's embrace, as she read aloud:

'The fairies dusted off the last frosts from their skirts, and new life had begun once again at the asylum. Juicy fronds poked through the earth ready to bud and bloom into fragrant and colourful flowers. Snowdrops had already bloomed, and now luscious yellow daffodils sprung from mossy banks. Spring had begun, and afterwards it seemed like summer suddenly burst into life. Tree buds swelled and broke open to reveal the first tender, fresh leaves. Grass that had for so long been buried under ice and snow morphed from a dull brown into the brightest green.

Sapphire was attending on her King and Queen. She served fresh honeydew and sweet crocus pollen in acorn cups while the main course of grape hyacinth and candied chestnuts were laid to one side. Lord Pan was reclining in the now enlarged queen's chambers. Mab was resting on her throne, her lord's head in her lap and her wand by her side. Pan picked up his pipes and played a gentle refrain.

He was, Sapphire confided to the sentinel fairies, quite changed since joining forces with their queen. Although his frame was still large, his horns had receded daily and at last, dropped off completely. His tail had also disappeared along with his goat's legs and cloven feet. His face was no more the long snout it once was but had taken on a much more fairie-like appearance. Sapphire was unsure as to how all this had taken place, but didn't like to say it might be at the Queen's pleasure. Pan himself didn't seem to mind a bit and took long pleasing looks in the leaf of water that served as a mirror.

It had been an interminable winter, and Mab decreed that everyone should have a long and luxurious summer, doing as little as possible. It would take all their energies, she continued, to sort out the new rosters and affairs of state. Two dominions coming together was no task for the faint-hearted. But already an air of co-operation was apparent, with Pan's subjects cleaning up and tunnelling subterranean homes while Mab's citizens kept guard over the new empire. Once or twice the old man called Cecil had almost strayed into their territory, but the sentinels Lotus and Violet, Amber and Birch had seen him off by clipping his ears with their wands.

Such matters had been too trivial to report to the Queen, but when Sapphire saw Daniel and Juliette leave in a large, shiny automobile, she reported it to the royal chamber at once. Mab insisted on calling all her subjects together for a great feast, and held court between the wall-like roots of her tree abode.

'So,' Mab said, standing to all assembled, 'the ones we protected have found a new freedom. It is good.' She turned to her lord, sitting beside her.

'Very good,' agreed Pan, mopping up the last of some quince jelly.

'Is it not fitting, Lord, that we as keepers of the peace, have helped the couple called Daniel and Juliette to find their child and their true destiny?'

'Very fitting,' Pan said, taking up his pipes again, 'for how better to seal our union than with the reunion of this human family?' Mab settled back on her throne and Pan rested his head in her lap.

'There are times, Lord, when I can hardly believe we were once enemies.' she said. 'I am so proud of you.' Pan took her regal hand and kissed it gently with his new, fairie-like lips. The assembled throng cheered and clapped, while those such as the snails unable to clap blew rainbow bubbles of mucus.

'My Queen,' he said, 'I hope our story can be told. For if others come to know of us and our good deeds then we will surely come alive in their world. In order to exist fully, we need to be believed in. And through one child at least, we can be sure of her faith in our subsistence. Let us raise our glasses for a toast!'

Everyone got to their feet, or stood on their back legs. Gossamer fairies stood side by side with beetles, spiders, slugs and centipedes. Silken webs were spun from the branches of the tree, like so much tinsel. Fireflies came out in the early dusk, sending bright beacons of light throughout the gathering. The sentinels stood nearest to their queen while Sapphire put her arm around Snitch, the faithful grasshopper. Pan, his new body becoming more and more prince-like, held out an elbow for Mab to rest her hand on. His once rough clothing now hung in folds of finest velvet, fashioned from the softest moss. The Queen, her crown glinting in the last of the sun's rays, raised her glass. The multitude followed her lead.

'To our human friends,' she announced, 'may they each find peace within their hearts.'

With the blessings of Haides upon them the dancing began, slowly at first, then joyfully and unashamedly as they rejoiced in their new alliance. As the shadows lengthened the sun disappeared behind the walls of the asylum. Having withdrawn after their united celebrations, the fairies looked towards a brand new world.

At the far edge of the grounds, a light in the outhouse was extinguished. The aroma of human food pervaded through the wards as supper was brought to each one in wheeled hot-cupboards. Curtains were closed and blinds pulled. A tall man with moustaches left the offices and made his way to the entrance gates. Birds sang lazily as the trees sighed with joy. Although the heat of the day was dulled, the evening breeze still carried gentle warmth.

In the chapel graveyard, a blackbird found a late meal below the leaves. She flew off to feed it at once to her young before settling them under her feathered breast. A soft breeze momentarily lifted the vegetation. The spring flowers had finished but poppies and honeysuckle, nasturtium and sweet peas sent an exquisite perfume into the evening. A few bumblebees were still about, collecting the last drops of nectar before their return to the nest. They flew as if swimming, through and under leaves and fronds. And the ivy wound its tendrils over the gravestones, sinking its roots into the warm, moist earth.'

****~~~****

On the eastern outskirts of Pontarlier lie the Jura Mountains, extending to the Swiss border and named after the French department of Jura, the Swiss Canton of Jura and the Montes Jura of the moon. But before reaching these ranges and just north of the region is the small, picturesque village of Lods. Nestled into a hillside and surrounded by tree lined slopes, this was where Juliette had grown up. Very early in her childhood her father taught her to ski. She proved to be accomplished in this, prompting entries into junior competitions. Later, as a young woman, she took part in the _Grande Traversee du Jura_ , skiing 175km from France into Switzerland. This achievement was noted by the local Resistance cell and she was recruited for war work in 1939 helping the allied forces to escape Germany and Nazi occupied territory.

Now years after Operation Eavesdrop, the snowbirds had found their way home.

Back in Lods after those long years it seemed to Juliette it might all have been a dream. The past few months had brought total recall of her father's vineyard, but now as she brought to mind supplying wine to restaurants and hotels it was as if all of it had happened to a completely different family. Juliette ambled through the village centre and stopped at a bubbling waterfall. It tumbled across her path down to the Loue River. She turned and waited for Daniel and Anna to catch up. They had been here just a week and were greatly relieved to find the family home intact, still with its furnishings. Daniel insisted it felt much more like home than London ever had. They wandered down a narrow alleyway, coming out into a cobbled square. Here, lights were strung overhead and tables and chairs from a small café were set out in front of the proud owners' establishment.

Her parents were both gone, Dulcie had relayed some time ago, but it seemed to Juliette they were here now, watching over her. In some ways she felt closer to them than ever before. The pretty stone cottage she'd been born in had been looked after by a neighbour over the years. Anna gasped when she saw it, had instantly fallen in love with the ornate windows and small, cosy rooms. She told her mother Lods must be the most beautiful village in the whole of France, and that living here felt just as if she were a princess in a fairie tale. While Daniel and Juliette inspected and tried to save what they could of the vineyard, Anna ran wild through the village streets and over the stone bridge. She dashed along, exhilarated from the fun of the chase. Her new friends scampered and laughed alongside as they flew like the wind.

Daniel found employment at a river forge and helped at a workshop mending farm and vineyard equipment. The villagers gave Juliette a heroine's return but welcomed the whole family with open arms. They knew some of the suffering endured and while not about to forget, it wasn't spoken of. The nearby Villets-le-lac on the river Doubs, where the railway ran, had been under German occupation between 1940 and 1942. Buildings scarred with bullets were still apparent in many places, but the wounds of loss cut much deeper into people's hearts and souls.

Dulcie had written saying she and Wilbur planned to visit the following year to help with the grape harvest. In the meantime they would continue to write with all their news. A letter from Wilbur had spoken of walking out with Alice Pink, who lived in his boarding house. He said like Dan, she made him laugh. Juliette kept all the letters in her mother's cabinet with her best wineglasses and the delicate fairies Anna had made. Anna's fairie journal was safe in her room and served as a reminder that miracles do happen. Now they were all together it seemed to Juliette they'd never been parted at all. Indeed, their bonds of love couldn't be severed but had instead kept them magically tied to each other, drawing their destinies close. They could not have been any happier, or any more grateful.

The family stopped at the little café for lunch. The waiter served wine for Daniel and Juliette, lemonade for Anna, and three baguettes filled with the local creamy Mont d'Or cheese. It was a Saturday in late summer, and soon the leaves would be falling again. Juliette glanced around the square. The pale stoned lanes once forgotten to her gleamed in the midday sun. Carved reliefs of grapes and leaves hung from window tops and above small, plain doors. The vineyard, along with the somewhat neglected kitchen garden would need careful tending over the coming months. But for now, the sun warmed Juliette's arms and face, and she closed her eyes happily.

In the short time since arriving Anna glowed a little more each day, while Daniel's face had bronzed and was beginning to fill out. She smiled at him as he discussed pruning and tying-in tips for his vines with the café owner. The wine relaxed Juliette and she readily agreed to take one of the owner's kittens. Anna jumped up and did a little dance, before kissing her mother and hugging her father. The proprietor took her to the back of the café to choose the new pet.

It was glorious basking in the sunlight, hearing the gentle buzz of youngsters stroll by, laughing and chatting like they hadn't a care in the world. The waiter returned and cleared the plates. He was telling Daniel about the liquor Absinthe, or _Green Fairy_ , so strong it was supposed to cause insanity, and for that reason had been illegal since 1915.

'Now if we could brew that,' Daniel told Juliette, 'we could open our own asylum.' She laughed out loud and nodded sagely.

'Let's hope our vines fruit well next season,' she said, 'I shall be quite content with that.'

Anna returned holding a pretty tabby to her face. 'I shall call him Pan,' she said, her eyes glistening as the tiny creature chewed at her glasses.

'An excellent choice.' Daniel laughed.

'He will keep the mice away,' Juliette said approvingly, while Daniel popped the little creature into his jacket pocket.

'He'll sleep in there until we get home,' he said, 'then we must put some butter on his paws.'

Walking back home Juliette suddenly thought about the powdered champagne of the alpine peaks. This coming winter the snow would return to the mountains and with it the skiing that had brought her Daniel, all those years ago. It was a clear day and she could see in the distance the sugared caps of the Traversee. The high plateau of the Jura Mountains guaranteed good snow in winter, but lacking the steep gradients of the southern peaks this level terrain made it France's most popular for cross-country skiing, or _ski de fond_. Nothing could beat this activity to immerse the soul in the natural world. Juliette recalled feathered drifts on green trees, the fresh aroma of pine and the feel of crisp air against her blood warmed cheeks.

Excitement filled her heart as she remembered the meadows, lakes and hills of the area. How the road began its shy ascent to the peaks and gorges that defined the border with Switzerland. And how, with each bend the views to the tiny villages below became all the more impressive. She glanced at Daniel, saw him and Anna taking a peek into the kitten filled pocket and wondered if this happiness could be sustained. Her hand in his felt small, fragile even, and yet she knew this was not the case. How much stronger then would their love grow now they were all together, united at last since that fateful day when the blood had stained the virgin snow.

They entered the alleyway again and walked the cool pathway to the cottage. Sunlight twinkled at the end of the passage, as if confirming further adventures. Daniel gripped her hand and pressed it to his lips. She in turn, kissed his rough fingers. Anna ran on ahead and just for a second, danced in the sunlit road like a gossamer fairie. Then she turned and raced to the cottage. Juliette knew she would take bravely to skiing. She felt instinctively her daughter had inherited this aptitude, but also knew she possessed the creative talent to write.

Daniel stopped and took Juliette in his arms. As his lips met hers she was transported to, and suddenly overlooking the deep Morte valley. The panoramic sweep took in the yawning ridges of the Jura and the huge, uninterrupted sky. With this heightened sensation she prepared for a fast decent, her breath shorter now and her muscles ready to fire. Daniel's kiss softened as his embrace enveloped her body and soul.

And the eerie silence was broken only by the whoosh of skis on sparkling snow.

###

Also by Sarah Starr: Dream Time

A sample excerpt from my debut novel follows below.

"The cyclone shelter was a mess. Over by the far wall I could just make out a folding camp-bed, the rest of the space being taken up with junk and gardening paraphernalia. The possums, _little blighters_ as Miss Green called them, had left me with no alternative. Stretching over a rusted bicycle I grabbed the possum trap. Only the size of a cat basket, it felt surprisingly heavy. Moisture dripped from my face and I had to rest, like someone middle aged. The airless atmosphere was stifling, and my throat was dry. A spider clung to one of the bars of the possum cage. A closer inspection confirmed my dread. It was a poisonous variety, a Redback.

I directed a shot of anger towards Uncle Sid, living comfortably in Brisbane. Aunt May was probably just about to light the barbeque for lunch. Kim was most likely on her way home from surfing, her blonde hair swinging in the sunshine. She didn't have to worry about jellyfish that could kill with one sting, or the gnashing jaws of crocodiles.

I knew I had to get the storm shelter ready. Biffs' paper had a useful article in it, explaining how to get a box together with some tins of food and water bottles. But I was unable to move, as if stuck to the upturned crate. Inside this cage my only company was the chirping song of cicadas. It was impossible to see beyond the garden walls, and I began to feel shut in. The insect volume increased, urging a deeper, primal panic. Familiar feelings of weakness crawled over me, providing their own grimy comfort. If Belle had been with me I was sure she would reassure me the way she had done in the past. I closed my eyes and tried to contour up her face. But I saw the door to the old cellar: the entrance to my prison.

An icy chill ran through my heated veins. Quickly I opened my eyes. A glance out through the shelter door confirmed I was not shut in, that I was indeed safe. However, it was becoming clear that unwanted memories could turn this place into a prison of a different kind.

Tears tried to fight their way free, but my eyes just stung with sweat. I had no choice but to stay here, there was simply nowhere else to go. Grabbing the possum trap I slammed shut the shelter door. I realized my throat was parched. The front door was nearby but I decided to use the back door near the pond. The climb up the steps was rewarded by the shade of tall palm trees. I placed the trap by the back door, remembering then to feed the fish. Their food tin was on the kitchen sill, and as I reached for it the sun hid momentarily behind a dark cloud. The flakes fell in silence on to the water while a dull thud came from behind, like a falling mango. It was so loud it caught my breath. Then I was alerted to a different noise, one like a soft cry coming from the undergrowth.

Beyond the pond the trees parted to reveal the dingy remains of the old Aboriginals' house. I approached warily, curious to find out what was making the noise somewhere amongst the rubble. Kneeling on the coarse grass I scanned the piles of rough bricks. Stinging ants climbed into my sandals and up my bare shins, oblivious to where they were going. Flicking them onto the grass, I shifted position onto my haunches. The heat was compelling me to go into the shade of the house, and my mouth was like parchment, but I continued to look. Perspiration drenched my clothes, sticking the fabric to my skin.

I began to feel nervous. I had been asked not to intrude here by Miss Green, after all. Why had she said it? And what was that noise? Was it my overactive imagination, the same one that kept telling me _he_ had knocked the clock off the wall?

A dry smile twitched at my lips, and I admonished myself for such foolishness. The isolation and the confounded heat were getting to me, and it was time to pull myself together. I decided to go inside for a cool drink. Just then a momentary breeze drifted past my face, gently lifting my hair. It felt different, like a feather stroking my skin. Then it grew swiftly into an aggressive wind, stinging my body and blowing dust into my eyes. Larger clouds moved across the sky obscuring the sun and shadowing the foundations of the little house. Truly frightened, I turned to run. But my body cowered as a sudden crack of thunder exploded overhead and I jumped to dodge a falling palm frond. Gasping for breath I could feel my heart pumping like an engine, while I stood in frozen panic.

Several mangos hit the ground like missiles as my eyes darted around the scene. A crack of lightning split the heavens in two like a silver blade, releasing soft fat raindrops, along with my helpless tears. Soon water was everywhere, noisily crushing the leaves and dust into the earth. I grabbed a nearby tree for support as a ripping groan of thunder sent shock waves through my body. The responding streak of lightening illuminated the shrine in which I stood, and before me I saw the dark eyes of an aged painted face, the hair long and matted. A scream rang out but unaware it belonged to me, I ran from it. I tried to get to the back door but the rain was so heavy now it was blinding. My foot caught on something and I struggled to free it, but then I tripped forward and fell headlong onto the rubble."

For author biography, sample chapters and more information please visit my website at:

http://www.sarahstarrauthor.co.uk

Facebook: sarahstarrspiritualauthor @sarahstarrauthor
