Elizabeth Smith answered the door, though she did not show her surprise at seeing one of her daughter's old friends on her doorstep. 'Shania.' She said coolly, Sally had told her about their fight, although she didn't know the details. 'Sally is not home at the moment.'

'I know. I just saw her disappear onto the wasteland with Gordon Jones. You know, the strange one. He calls himself something unusual, I can't remember what though.' Shania noted the woman's hostility towards her ease as she mentioned Gordon Jones, and her hatred manifest itself wholly in him.

Edward Smith had followed his wife to the door, 'Oh, hello Shania. Would you like to come in?' He opened the door widely, ushering Shania in, 'As I'm sure you've gathered, Sally is not in at the moment, but you're welcome to wait for her.'

'Actually, Mr Smith, I'm not here to see Sally, but thank you.' She smiled politely and turned back to Elizabeth, 'As I told you Mrs Smith, Sally's on the wasteland with that boy. I thought you should know.'

'Galileo Figaro. That's what he calls himself isn't it?' Elizabeth Smith turned angrily to her husband, 'I told you we should have stopped her seeing that boy sooner! She's too wilful. Takes after you.' Although appearances sometimes suggested otherwise, Elizabeth did care about her daughter, and used her anger to hide her worry.

Edward gave a slight smile, one that rapidly turned to a nervous laugh under his wife's withering glare.

'Edward!' Elizabeth exclaimed, 'Ignore him Shania my dear, he's just worried. We both are. Thank you for telling us, at least now we know where she is and can do something about it.' She turned back to her husband, 'I suggest you get on to the authorities, then we can get some help looking for her. Shania, would you mind staying until they arrive? I think they'll need to hear your version of events, and you might need to answer some questions. Now, would you like a drink?'

'Oh, no thank you Mrs Smith, and I don't mind staying at all. I'll do anything they need me to to help get Sally back safe, after all, that's the main thing.' Though she said that, Shania thought very differently, and allowed herself a slight sly smile. Her plan was falling perfectly into place. With any luck the police would shoot first, ask questions later.

Edward had returned, 'They're on their way over now. They'll be here in a few minutes.'

'So Miss, you say you saw Miss Smith with Gordon Jones?'

'Yes Sir, on the wasteland outside the borders. They went into the scrapheap.' Shania sat at the Smith's kitchen table opposite a senior Secret Police officer, with Sally's parents either side of her. The officer tapped at his personal organiser before looking back up.

'Well Mrs Smith, we have a clear indication of the whereabouts of your daughter-'

He was cut off by a gasp from Elizabeth, 'So we can go and get her back? I- we,' she said, gesturing to her husband, 'cannot bear the thought of her out alone with that boy! You do know he's a rebel, don't you?' she asked anxiously, and without pausing added, 'Do you have any idea how bad this is for our image?'

'Yes ma'am, but-' the officer attempted to intervene.

'We have to get her back this instant! A full search must be launched!'

Edward rolled his eyes at his wife's dramatic nature, 'Elizabeth,' he said sternly, 'let the officer continue.' Elizabeth glared simultaneously at her husband and the officer, but said nothing.

'But,' the officer continued, free from interruption, 'we can do nothing until morning. It is too dark at the moment, she can't go anywhere. It could do more harm than good for us to go searching now, it will be light in approximately two hours. We go then.' Elizabeth's glare deepened, but she stayed silent, seething.

Two hours later Elizabeth rose from her chair, still seething, her annoyance apparent. 'It's been two hours,' she said through gritted teeth. The commander nodded and barked a curt instruction to one of his junior officers. 'We'll find her ma'am, sir,' he said, nodding towards Edward. 'One of my men will be in hourly contact with you,' he said, making his way to the door after his men, Elizabeth's glare following his retreating back.

Sally and Galileo were awakened early in the morning by a shaft of bright sunlight. Blinking furiously to acclimatise themselves the previous day's events came back to them; her flight, his proposal and their meeting with, 'Pop.' Galileo stated. 'We have to go and find him.'

Sally nodded and groggily stood up, mentally cursing the sun for waking her up so early; she definitely wasn't a morning person. Cautiously, they made their way back up the stairs, apprehensive and still a little perturbed by Pop's disappearance the night before.

Pop was waiting for them at the entrance to the scrap heap, greeting them with, 'You ready? Sure you want to do this?' They both nodded, confident in their decision. 'Well alright then,' Pop said, clearing his throat.

'No. Wait,' Sally interrupted him, turning to Galileo. 'I just want to make absolutely sure you know what you're doing. What you're letting yourself in for,' she said with a wry smile. 'I was thinking about it last night, do you seriously want to spend the rest of your life with me? The absolute rest of your life? If you want to back out now, I won't be offended.'

'Scara! How can you even think that?!' Galileo said, affronted. 'I'm more sure of this than anything I've ever been sure of. Of course I want to spend the rest of my life with you,' he said emphatically. 'I know what I'm doing, and I do know what I'm letting myself in for. You can't hide things from me, no matter how hard you try – I can read you like a web page.' He bit his lip, 'You're not having doubts are you?'

'No,' she said simply, shaking her head. 'I just wanted to make sure you weren't.' She hadn't been sure, but his reaction had reaffirmed what she already knew, she did love him.

Pop coughed nervously, 'Is everything alright?'

Galileo nodded, 'Yep. E-everything's fine. Let's do it.'

For the second time in the space of a few minutes, Pop cleared his throat, and began a clearly well rehearsed speech, 'Dearly beloved…'