"Misty's back at the flat. I don't want to leave her for long. She's a good girl, but -" Leann glanced over Melanie's shoulder and then back over her own.

Melanie nodded. Six-year-old girls with mums on the run had a second sense about being good. But that good sense only outlasted their curiosity so long. "What happened, Leann? Why are you still here in Brighton?"

"The money I brought with me is gone. All of it." Leann pulled a tie from her wrist and put her shoulder-length blonde hair up in a loose pony tail.

Melanie watched her hands flash by, an occasional mark or scar still on them over her thin veins. All old and healed, some well, others less so. The abused hands stuck out of a long puffy pink jacket that had to have once looked expensive. Now it was covered in enough use to make it look cheap and second-hand.

"How? You said you had more than enough." Melanie looked down at Leann's hands again, and more closely at her neck, barely peeking out of a scarf that used to be cream-colored.

"It's not my fault – I didn't – I'm clean. It was my bloody bitch of a sister. She – damnit. I knew I shouldn't -" Leann's face pinched and her eyes caught an empty, dead look Melanie suspected she'd learned from her husband, Nigel. The husband who wanted her back. Not because he loved her, but because of what she knew. She was too valuable to be let out of sight, and the daughter was old enough to cause trouble.

Melanie had known things too, once. She blinked rapidly and sighed, and placed a hand on Leann's arm.

"She stole it?"

"Nah." Leann turned her watery gaze up at the ornate chandeliers hanging from the kaleidoscope ceiling of the music room. Melanie did the same, and to her they were beautiful but tragic. Glowing drops of wealth, each valuable enough to solve all of this woman's problems and totally out of reach. "But she took me for a couple thousand pounds and took off. Extortion. Blackmail. Whatever you want to call it. She was nicer than I thought she would be when I rang her asking for help, if I could stay. Now I know why. I don't pay, she finds out who wants me and turns me over."

"Right." Melanie squeezed the arm she'd been holding and looked Leann square in her prematurely worn face. Deep wrinkles, scrubbed clean and neat, no makeup or concealer. Shadows of freckles that would pepper her face, given enough time in the sun. Eyes that were rimmed with red, but clear - stretched with mind-bending anxiety, but not desperation. Skin pale, but not pallid. "You're telling me the truth, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Okay." Melanie's dark hair shook back and forth. She ran a hand through it at her greying temple. "We can fix this. We can get you back on track. It's only about a days delay."

She ran her hand down Leann's arm and then rested it on her own hip. She brought the other up and placed a couple fingers over her lips and gazed out the imposing floor-to-ceiling windows - to see Caroline marching double time toward the Pavilion and presumably toward her. It was impossible to mistake Caroline's 'on a mission' strut.

"Shit."

"What?" Leann followed Melanie's gaze and her eyes darted across the people strolling by outside. "Have you seen someone?"

"Yes. Someone I don't want knowing about you. Yet. And you have no reason to know her. So let's scoot." Melanie looked down at her slender rose-gold watch and back up toward the grand hallway, already picturing Caroline walking in on them.

Melanie took Leann by her grungy, pink puffy arm and guided her out and toward the Saloon – opposite the main entrance. She clipped right along, thinking about Caroline's long purposeful strides.

Leann scowled at her, but didn't tug her arm away. "Okay, Melanie. Okay. I don't need to blow anything for you. But my problem isn't solved. Misty and I need to get out of Brighton."

"I know. We can talk about that. Just not here." Melanie glanced around, and pushed through a door marked 'No Admittance.' She closed it without a sound and turned back to a perplexed Leann.

"Leads to the rooms upstairs. Private tours come through on the hour. We should be alright for a breather." Melanie couldn't help but take a second to notice the steep, winding staircase next to them. The alcove was a stark contrast to the rich colors and textures just outside it. Dingy and worn wood floors and steps that led up and up, hugged by walls that began as warm yellow and gave way to peeling plaster. She craned her neck for better look.

Leann threw her arms out in a 'what the hell' gesture. "Hullo. Melanie. You're a curious one. Good for you. But like I said, I've got an agenda here."

"Sorry. Can't help myself. And you're glad I do my homework."

"Maybe, but let's move this along." Leann glanced over her shoulder. "Not that I'm not grateful."

"I'm sure you are." Melanie inhaled and crossed her arms, glaring at Leann. She wanted the woman out - away from Nigel Pulling. She couldn't bear to see anyone stuck in a trap created by a man named Pulling, even if Leann had walked into it willingly. Deception and temptation were simple snares to lay and seldom wore the same disguise. It was easy to want to judge this woman. But sometimes glass houses were a bit opaque. They could be dangerous, unknowable structures with windows covered in murky dust, making it hard to judge from either side what was happening. What was really right, or really wrong.

"Melanie. Hullo. What I was just saying about being in a hurry – getting back to Misty." Leann's brown eyes widened and the impatience Melanie saw in them was laced with that compelling, sharp anxiety.

"I can get you more money. And I can make sure the right people are in the right place to meet you tomorrow. Once you're out of England you'll be much safer. From there – I think my friends will get you on your feet. But it'll really all be up to you."

"Okay." Leann's eyes were still big and the anxiety in them was starting to give way to fear.

"You'll be fine. When you get out, get help. You can reach out, access services. Nigel's good, but he's not that good. At least, he shouldn't be." Melanie frowned up at the square, mullioned windows lining the staircase. The only source of light in the tiny room but still bright with the midday sun. "He's got his kingdom. But he's not omniscient."

"You don't sound so sure."

Melanie reached out again. "Use your head. Trust yourself. You'll know what's right, and you'll be very, very careful, yes?" She wasn't sure what Nigel Pulling was up to these days, really. But she did know that Leann, alone on the run with Misty, was about as likely to stay clean and sober as the sun was to rise in the west tomorrow. Or as likely as Caroline not asking her where the hell she'd gotten to this afternoon.

Caroline. Melanie had been dropping hints all weekend. All month. Not hints, per se. But insinuations - flares - to see if she'd even think twice about anything Melanie said. Trying to get Caroline to start a conversation Melanie didn't want to have. And Caroline hadn't noticed anything until well-meaning Brian Shadforth had thrown a spanner in the works. That was just Caroline's nature. Too busy being adorably impressed and wrapped up in herself to notice what was right under her nose.

"Okay." Leann shuffled her dingy blue and white trainers across the battered wood floor.

Melanie tilted Leann's chin up. "I'll bring you cash. Eight hundred pounds. It'll get you out and on your way."

A slow bob of Leann's head and what was easily read as a humble reluctance to look Melanie in the eye.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll meet you next near the pier, okay? I'll text you where exactly when I figure it out a quiet spot. Let's say four-thirty am."

No worries there about Caroline waking and finding her missing. Or, if she were, it would be easily explained as another of her curious early morning explorations.

"Leann." Melanie moved her head in time with the other woman's as Leann did her best to avoid her gaze, until she finally gave in and let Melanie offer comfort. "You can do this."

"Yeah I can. Misty and I can. And we can partly because of you. So – thanks."

"Nigel is my fault. You're supposed to dig a weed out by the roots, and not stop until you get all of it." Another glance from Melanie back up the stairs, to the windows and the rooms above.

Leann narrowed her eyes at Melanie. "I know you know Nigel. But I can't tell how, and you never said." Leann's eyes shot wide again. "Are you a cop or something?"

Melanie shook her head vehemently. "No. I was someone in a bad situation, and I decided to do something about it. Your Nigel was a part of that, a long time ago."

Leann looked down as she picked at the short, grimy fingernails of her thumbs. "Glad you got out of your situation."

"Me too. But I'm not glad I left it like it was – a trap for others to fall in. I shouldn't have done that."

"Well, you're doing something now. Eight hundred quid is something. Getting me help – that's just as good. So again – thank you."

"Yes. Now. Moving along. We both need to scoot. The last thing I want is to see someone who shouldn't be standing on the other side of this door, and us walking out together like best mates. So head for the rafters and make your own way back out this door – give me five minutes, if you please?"

"Yeah. I will. Thank you."

Melanie turned to leave, and a thought struck her out of the blue. She couldn't believe she'd almost forgotten. "You know that Nigel's man Dave is on you – right?"

"Oh yeah. He's easy enough to spot." Leann rolled her eyes and fiddled with her coat sleeves at her wrists.

"He always was."

"I've seen Mitch, too, but I've kept clear of him." Leann fiddled a little more intensely and studied her trainers again.

"Mitch? Mitch Griffiths? No!" Melanie's mouth parted and she inhaled sharply. She'd never figured that boy would last another month without going to prison, much less be roaming the streets today. Her confidence in the situation plummeted, but she kept the doubt off her face. Again she chastised herself. Leaving someone else to suffer for a job she should have finished. Running was a selfish way to solve a problem.

"That's what the cops call him when they come asking. Mitch Griffiths."

"Steer clear of him. All the way. If you see Dave, you just ignore him and keep your other eye out for Mitch. Do you hear me?"

"Yes I do, Melanie. You forget I know what I'm dealing with."

"I'm sorry. I'm – I think I've started to get worried about you? And Misty." Following a sudden but familiar impulse, Melanie pulled the other woman in for a hug. She wasn't much more than a stranger, but still someone badly used and looking to make her life better. Worth helping and worth caring about. And with a young girl who could no more be offered up as collateral damage than – well – than Caroline or her family could.

Leann hugged her back. She sniffled and swiped at her nose with her coat. "Thanks, Melanie."

A quick nod from Melanie, with shining green eyes and her own sniffle as her throat grew tight. But for the sake of Leann she put on a buoyant smile. "Keep a look out. Be well. Be safe. See you tomorrow."

Leann started up the stairs and Melanie wished she were following her, away from her troubles. The Leann situation had been a completely different one when she and Caroline had come to Brighton. She'd been so close to saying something – wanting to believe she could bring Caroline in and open the doors she'd locked between them. But she realized that now was not the time, and Brighton not the place. Perhaps even Harrogate was dangerous, now. Her only option was to follow through and get them both home. To trust that as it always had, the right path would open up before her.