Chapter One: Return to the Kirke House
Dawn Mason blinked her eyes for what seemed like the fiftieth time. She and her mother had started out from London early that morning by cab, then train, and then cab again to visit what her Mum said was a place from her past. It was dark now and the rhythmic sound of the cab-horse's hooves on cobbles, tar-macked country lane and now paved, private avenue was sending her to sleep as much as the cadenced noise of the train carriage's wheels on the rails.
It was approaching midnight when the hooves slowed to a walk and the cabby climbed down to unstrap the case from the rear of the cab. Dawn's mother immediately paid the cabby and directed him toward the stables where he had been promised stabling for his horse and the hayloft for himself. He had also accepted a hip-flask of finest brandy to warm him on this cold night.
As the cabby gratefully led his horse to shelter, Dawn's mother gave her a reassuring smile as she hunted for the keys in her carpet bag and approached the large house which Dawn only now took in properly. The full-moonlight lit up the front of the building making the original Portland Stone appear as if it was midday.
Dawn lagged tiredly behind Mum as she counted the windows, ten across, and the floors, three up. She yawned as her Mum handed her one of the torches muttering that she would need to find the electrical box to power everything up.
Mum was just about to put her key in the door that it opened quite suddenly and a dark lantern was opened effectively blinding them.
"Who are you?" Came a man's voice, "It's past midnight, what are you doing here?"
"Lord Kirke, my name is Susan Mason, I telegrammed you a few weeks ago." Susan replied.
"I was expecting you next month."
"I know, circumstances have changed somewhat." Before Lord Digory Kirke III could speak further, Susan glanced sideways to her daughter who was falling asleep leaning against the exterior of the house. Reluctantly he opened the door further, reached out to take the suitcase while Susan picked up Dawn and cradled her into the house with muttered grateful thanks.
Inside, Digory led them toward the Drawing Room but Susan took her own path, up the first flight of steps to the sliding door of the study where she found the key with her free hand and slid the door open. Before entering she took in the mustiness and dustiness of the room and then laid a sleeping Dawn on the chaise longue. Before leaving the room, Susan removed her coat and tucked it in around Dawn and left her to sleep peacefully.
Turning to the door, Digory's furious red face was about to blurt out an irate remark until Susan waved her hands and gestured toward her daughter. Susan closed the study door leaving a small space for the moonlight to shine through from the entrance hall.
"Not here," she whispered, "in the kitchen. I'm starving."