I stumbled back into the apartment and let the door bang shut behind me.

Okay. I had to think about this like a sensible person. There was no way that man out there could have been the Christopher Rodwell I was thinking about. I could concede he had the same name, but there must be millions of Christopher Rodwells in the world. It wasn't exactly as unique a name as Dudley, was it?

And then there were his eyes. Okay, so they were sea-green, just like Alexander Rodwell's. But then again, that eye colour wasn't exactly so unique either. These people had a veritable cocktail of eye colours here! Why was it so unbelievable that his eyes were this particular colour? I mean, Ella had aquamarine eyes. And I knew for a fact she wasn't related to Mr. Rodwell. Come to think of it, his eyes weren't even the exact same shade as Mr. Rodwell's. A little lighter, perhaps, blander (I hoped this wasn't my bias talking).

Okay, I was being stupid.

He was not Mr. Rodwell's brother or Tasha's boyfriend. He was just a passing stranger I happened to meet who happened to have the same name as him.

Yes, that's right. Problem solved.

I took another step into the apartment, feeling like the happiest person in the world, smiling the biggest smile possible.

But...

My smile wavered.

What were the odds that a man named Christopher Rodwell happened to be so close to Tasha? What were the odds that a man with that particular combination of names just happened to pop out of thin air only weeks after Tasha started dating one of his specimen?

What were the odds indeed...?

The next step I took wasn't as lively as the first.

What to think and what not to think?

But then I shook my head. There were only two ways to find out who he had been and none of them said 'loiter in the corridor' in the instructions. Number one, ask the Williams'. Number two, ask Tasha.

I hobbled forward and stepped into the living room. It was empty. So, adjusting my hijab--which I had picked up before opening the door--I went where Charles and Howard had vanished to earlier.

Entering the kitchen, I found the Williams family cluttered in the limited space. Jenny was sitting beside her husband at the breakfast table, letting him wrap her hand with a bandage. Howard hovered above them, the magical-bag-of-wonders clutched in his hand. He looked up when I entered.

"Careful, now. I haven't had a chance to clean up that mess yet," he admonished.

I looked down. Inside the doorway a minefield of broken glass lay, the edges winking as if in warning. There was oil mixed in with the glass. Strange, long and green squishy-looking things lay in this unique concoction.

"I am so sorry, honey," Jenny apologised when she saw me. "I wanted to bring you my special pickle. But being the muddle head that I am," she giggled in her nervous little way, "I dropped the jar. I will get you something as soon as this is done." She cocked her head at the slow, methodic mummification of her hand.

"Please don't trouble yourself on my account," I said. "I am not really that hungry anymore."

"But..." she said, not understanding. "You must be."

"No. Not really. Not anymore." If only she knew...

"Oh."

She looked so heartbroken at my refusal that I opened my mouth to try to reassure her. But Charles spoke up before I could get a word out.

"Let it rest, Jenny. If she wants anything, she will ask." Then he turned towards me, his hands still wrapping the bandage as if he didn't need conscious thought to get it right. "Who was at the door, Zara? Please don't tell me it was another patient. I don't think I can do this anymore." He smiled a weak smile, trying to make a joke of it. But I could see the tiredness in the dark circles under his eyes, in the paleness of his skin. He looked ready to drop any second.

"The door?" I asked.

"You just went to open the door, remember? Are you sure you don't have a concussion?"

"Yes, yes, I am fine," I said, waving a hand. "It was a man."

He looked at me in confusion. "A man? Was he hurt? Didn't he come in?"

"No, he was fine. I asked him to come in, but he said he was in a hurry."

Something started to dawn on his face. "Did he give a name?"

I watched him and Howard for a reaction. "He said his name was Christopher Rodwell."

Did I get a reaction? Yes. Was it from Howard and Charles? Not entirely.

It was Jenny who looked at me with her wide blue eyes on hearing the name. She sucked in a deep breath and almost fell off the chair. Charles grabbed hold of her just in time though, or he would soon have had some more bandaging to do.

I could see that the name affected the doctor too. His usually precise moments grew jerky, and he actually squeezed Jenny's hand, making her wince.

It was Howard who gave me no reaction what so ever. Sure, he looked like he had frozen, but his face betrayed no emotion. Not one muscle in his visage moved, not one vain twitched. It was like someone had snuck into his brain while he wasn't looking and pulled out the main plug.

When Charles had settled Jenny back down, he looked at me and asked, his voice sounding just barely choked. "And did this Christopher leave a message?"

"Yes."

"What was it?"

"He asked me to tell you that they found it."

Jenny released a low moan. And then, probably thinking she couldn't bear holding it in anymore, she shot off her chair, toppling it, and ran out of the kitchen, bursting into tears before she had reached the door.

There was silence in the room for a moment after that. I looked at Charles and Howard. "You aren't going to tell me what this is about, are you?" I asked.

They looked at each other, and then at me. "No," Charles said.

"For my own good?"

"No, for our own good."

***

Charles let me take Meli home two hours later, when she woke up. There was no more talking and questions asked during those hours. Jenny remained in her room. Occasionally the sound of loud wailing could be heard through the closed door. Charles and Howard did not try to go inside, but they did stare at the plank of wood between her and them with unease.

The doctor finally convinced me to eat something, but only after he made a sympathy case out of himself and told me his wife would eat him alive if he didn't make me have something before I left. I chose an apple. He also finally handed me the sought after ice pack. I pressed in to my head with relief, feeling the slight pain in the wound leaching away. He told me to press it there for twenty minute periods only, with equal intervals in the middle, to keep from freezing my brain into a popsicle.

And then we waited. Howard kept alternating between his room and the living room like a troubled soul. Charles sat in his armchair like he had been carved into it. I tried to start a little conversation multiple times from my vantage point on the sofa, but was met by one word answers and a discouraging stare. After three such rebuffs, I surrendered and curled up into a ball.

I was about ready to fall asleep when Melissa deigned it time to grace us with her mental presence. Doctor Charles ran inside like a gazelle when her groan sounded from the room, ringing remarkably like that of a new born baby. That analogy was slightly disturbing.

I heaved upright too, taking my own sweet time. Now that she wasn't in immediate danger of dying, I didn't see any sense in inconveniencing myself any further by running to every other sound she made. My muscles creaked and moaned as I moved from my cramped position, like that of an old house.

When I made it to the guest bedroom, Doctor Williams had already finished examining Meli and deemed her fit to go home, on the one condition that she take express care of herself and come back if she felt anything too much out of ordinary. I nodded sleepily to the set of instructions he directed at me, and then beamed as he pronounced us free to go.

Finally, I thought. This house, with its silent and mysterious occupants, was making me fairly nauseaus by now.

Howard offered to drive us back and I accepted, having no energy left in me to refuse his generosity. If he had insisted, I would probably have let him buy me a mansion by now. But sadly, that thought didn't enter his mind.

After Howard carried Meli down the stairs and bundled her into the car, followed by me, he drove us back the way we had come. It was about midnight by now and the streets were crowded and deserted at the same time, a fact you learned to notice only if you lived in the dangerous parts of town. Shadowy faces moved in and out of alleys, shining pale in the moonlight. A dog howled at the moon. Howard drove without glancing left or right, cutting all the red lights.

At long last, he followed my directions and stopped before my apartment complex. Home sweet home, I thought. I had been calling Granny Tonks on and off throughout the night, informing her I would be late in getting back home and to get Ella ready and tucked in bed. And now my bed waited for me too. I almost moaned.

But first, I had to take care of Meli.

I stepped out of the car and bid Howard goodnight, thanking him again for his and his family's kindness. It was only after I had taken five steps that I realised Meli wasn't behind me. Turning around, I found her still in the car, her mottled face looking like a child's nightmare.

I hurried back. "Come on, then," I said, beckoning at her with my crutch.

"I have to go home," she replied, touching the splint on her nose like she couldn't help it.

"What?" I frowned. "But you can't. The doctor told me to take care of you. I can't do that when you are so far away."

"I am as fine as I'm ever going to get, Zara," she said, trying to smile. Her face only allowed her a grimace. "And I have to take care of Hannah. Goodness only knows how she's been all night."

"But... you can't," I insisted again, bending down to address her directly. "We can go and collect Hannah. And then the two of you can live with us. I'm not sending you back to that monster of a husband of yours. Not after this."

"I have to go back," she said once more. "That monster is my only sure thing at the moment. And my daughter, of course. Anyways, John would rather forsake his nightly fix than hand over Hannah to you. You know that."

"You don't need him, Meli!" I shouted, feeling drained and exasperated. We had had this conversation too many times to count, and every time she told me she needed John in her life. The security and stability a man provided, and the fact that he kept the other wolves at bay, made him a necessity. She didn't love John any more than he loved her, but she needed the reassurance his presence afforded. In exchange, she gave him money and finances for his various other vices. It was a system that worked flawlessly, she maintained.

"You don't need him, Meli," I repeated. "You can be safe on your own. I will keep you safe. We can live together." Also, I had to ask her what she had done to anger Fred. I couldn't do that if she was so far away.

"Zara," she said, "don't take this the wrong way, but you are barely able to feed yourself and Ella. You don't even have your own house. And haven't the bills come in? How do you propose you will keep all of us with you? Even if I work too, there will simply be too much to do."

"That's not true!" I protested. "I found another job. Its--"

"I will not live on your charity, Zara!" Meli said, eyes flashing. I took a step back. Alright... Meli had never yelled at me before. This was weird. It was like seeing a pink coloured Barbie doll snarl. The bruises and broken nose didn't help either.

"Er... Meli?" I said.

"I will not take your charity, Zara," she said again. "I can take care of myself and my daughter and I will do it any way I see fit. I know you have just saved my life, and I am very thankful, but you should rather have let me die than think I would be happy to raise my daughter on your bread and butter."

"But... you don't plan to go back there, do you?" I said, feeling weak and strangely scared. "You can't work for Fred anymore."

"I know that," she said, shaking her head. "I will just have to think of something else, wouldn't I?"

"John would be furious," I tried again.

"I know that too. I will just have to take it."

I looked at her face. Could she take anymore? I didn't think so. And the doctor's dos and don'ts didn't have 'get beat up again as soon as possible' on the list.

"Meli--"

"Let it rest, Zara," Howard interjected from the front seat. He had been silent all this time, listening to us back and forth without saying a single word. Now he turned around and looked at me. "Let it rest," he said again. "There is nothing you can say that will make her agree. But if it makes you feel any better, I will keep an eye on the two of them." He smiled.

"You don't need to, Howard," Meli said immediately. "I will be okay."

"I want to, Meli," he said. There was something earnest in the depths of his eyes when he looked at her, almost like a hungry desperation. "Don't tell me I can't."

I grasped this opportunity with both hands. "Please do, Howard. Please do. I will be so very thankful."

"No--"

"Will do," he said, ignoring her. He turned around back to the wheel. "Now you should really get inside before you freeze to death out here."

"Okay," I said, stepping away from the car. "Good night."

"Good night," he said, revving the engine and shooting off into the night.

Meli didn't offer me a good night. I shrugged. Better than the alternative.

When I got up to the apartment and unlocked the door, the living room was dark. There was only one lone light aglow besides Granny Tonks' armchair. I could see her hunched form in its usual place, the pipe in her mouth bobbing up and down as she chewed in her sleep--like a cow, if I was being honest. There was a crocked blanket lying on her stomach.

I shambled forward and dropped to my knees besides her. Grabbing the edges of the blanket, I started tucking her in.

She stirred. Her milky eyes popped open. "Back, are you?" she rasped.

This was so much like a corpse reanimated that it took me a moment to get myself back together. Granny was a deep sleeper. About a month ago, right before I started working in the Ugly Swan, there had been a fire in the apartment next door and our place had to be evacuated. The firemen had to carry Granny out in a stretcher because she won't wake up. So, if she was up now it was because she was waiting for me.

"Yes. Just got in," I said, smiling.

"Do you know what time it is, young lady?" she barked, her attempt at sternness ruined by the waves of stale breath assaulting my nose.

"Yes, Granny," I said with patience. "I told you I would be late. I told you everything. You didn't have to stay up for me."

"For you?" Granny's chest rumbled like an island in the throes of an earthquake. "I didn't stay up for you! Or I did, I guess, depending on how you see it." She pulled the spittle soaked pipe out of her mouth and held it under my nose. "Get me a refill," she ordered.

I looked at her pipe and then at her. So this is why she was up. So much for a welcome home. "I thought we agreed that you won't get any at night."

"Well, you weren't here to give me one in the evening," she argued.

I got up and grabbed my crutches. "You aren't getting any Granny. You know how your breath smells afterwards. People complain about it across the hall."

"That don't matter, lass!" she yelled. "I want my refill."

"No."

"Where have you kept it?" she asked.

"Not telling you," I said.

"I will throw you out of my house!" she threatened.

I shrugged. "Go ahead. But tomorrow please. I need to sleep."

"Don't you turn your back on me, girl! I have seen lasses like you a million times. I'll find it. I will! I--"

I shut the door to our room, thankful that Tasha had already gotten it fixed. Granny's voice reduced to a trickle and then died out altogether.

Ella lay in her bed, the blankets kicked off her feet, her chubby face shining in the little light coming from the window. There was a tiny smile on her face. My heart lightened almost the instance I saw that smile. I shuffled forward and bend down to kiss her cheek and then her forehead. Then I tucked her blankets around her.

"Mommy..." she mumbled. She was still asleep. Her eyes flickered with the rapidity of her dreams.

"I'm here, sweetheart," I whispered. "Sleep tight, angel. Mommy's here."

She curled up around the arm I was using to tuck her blanket in. I extracted it with practiced gentleness, kissed her forehead again, and moved towards the bathroom.

After changing, washing my face and brushing, I climbed into bed like a caterpillar climbs into a cocoon. I picked the bag up off the floor and dug inside for my cell. I had promised to text Tasha when I got back. If I didn't before one in the morning she would assume I had died and barge into the house again, dressed in black for the funeral and wailing at the top of her voice. I didn't think I had any energy left for that tonight.

My hand in the bag hit something hard.

I frowned. Wha--

I pulled out a three-inch thick book.

No, no, no...

Mr. Rodwell's diary. The one I had to arrange by tomorrow.

I cursed.

"Good one, girl! I am proud of you," a voice pronounced from outside.

"Go to sleep, Granny!" I yelled back.

I opened the book to the mark I had placed inside in the morning. I had already finished more than half of it. Sitting in the gloomy depths of my office, I had made the surprising discovery that the book would in fact not take ages to finish if I just bunkered in and got it over with. Judging by the thickness of the remaining pages, I could safely say that I had about an hour's worth of hard work to do.

I banged my head against the headboard. But I was so tired!

Does not matter, my thoughts told me. That good for nothing man won't think a second before sacking you if you arrive empty handed tomorrow. And I had to remember I didn't have a rebound job to fall back to anymore.

I groaned.

"Curse away, girl! It lightens the heart. Do you want some good ones from my store?"

"No!"

I opened the book again and pulled out a pen. Alright, better get a move on.

I opened the other notebook I was writing the organised appointments on and put the pen in my mouth. Lacking the finances for a computer, my workload doubled if I worked from home, having to digitalize everything as soon as I got in the next time.

3rd of February, I read, meeting envoy from Laxcorp. I flipped through the pages in my book and wrote it down under February, between the 25th (finalise the Bulgarian deal) and 2nd (meet Pauline Jackson, Deputy Head of Parkson).

29th August, propose buying shares in the Fox Company to the board. I sighed, and jotted it down.

4th February, Charity Ball, Gordon Enterprises.

6th March, fire Jack from Public Relations.

15th April, meet Marketing Board of Coleman and tell them to change everything.

6th February, meet Frederick Bosley, Ugly Swan.

29th Janu--

Wait, what?

I looked at the entry again.

6th February, meet Frederick Bosley, Ugly Swan.

I blinked. The words didn't change.

I shook my head hard. The words remained the same.

My heart stopped beating.

Mr. Rodwell had a scheduled meeting with Fred.

Mr. Alexander Rodwell.

I was beginning to think I had been thrown into another world.

***

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