Author's note: sorry for the delay. I have been distracted by a week of surreal events.

Thanks to all of you who have contributed to Nat's short film project. He will be truly grateful. Having secured the base target, the team is now hoping to raise the funds for extra equipment and special effects to bring their dream to the screen. So, if you had thought about donating but haven't yet, do it. Even a few dollars helps, but for a relatively small price, you can get a personalised photo in time for Christmas (mail services willing).

Tommy had watched with amusement as Henrietta had negotiated international travel as if she were simply catching a bus to school. She had told him where her passport was kept and had packed her bag before Tommy had finished talking to James about getting documentation to ensure Immigration officials did not stop them in the belief he was kidnapping a child.

Now, as they waited at the baggage carousel at Copenhagen Airport for their bags, she held his hand firmly. Every time a blonde man walked by she squeezed a little harder. Tommy bent down and picked her up. "Why don't you keep an eye on Babra while I find our bags? She doesn't travel much, so she's a bit scared of all this."

"Okay."

Tommy handed her to Barbara. "Henrietta is going to look after you while I find our bags."

Barbara nodded. "Thank you, Henrietta. I've never been to Copenhagen before. Have you?"

"I think so."

"Good, well you can show me where to go."

The girl shook her head. "No, Babra, we have to stay right here. Otherwise, Tommy-Daddy won't know where we are."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Yes. We'll stay right here."

Tommy watched as Henrietta draped her head over her shoulder and Barbara held her tightly. He was pleased they were bonding. "Thank you," he mouthed silently before moving with the tide of passengers towards the belt as bags began to tumble down the baggage chute.

Henrietta's small designer bag appeared first, followed by his leather holdall. He became concerned as most of the other passengers collected their bags and only three or four people still stood staring anxiously at the belt. Finally, Barbara's well-worn blue rucksack appeared. He lifted it by one strap. It fell back onto the belt with a thump, leaving him holding up the frayed cord. He looked guiltily at Barbara and shrugged. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but he could see she was trying very hard not to laugh.

When he looked back at the belt, the rucksack was about to disappear into the back loading area. Tilted awkwardly, the bag waivered as if would tip off the belt. He raced after it, hoping to catch it before it was swallowed by the dark hole. He reached down and pulled at it. The bag hesitated as if it knew he was not it's owner, before it gave in. Tommy stumbled backwards, one hand in the bag and the other motioning in the air as he fought for his balance. He steadied himself but the weight of the bag was too much for the clip. Tommy closed his eyes and cursed as he heard the unmistakable rip of nylon. He opened one eye to see Barbara's underwear fall at his feet and her loose toiletries skid across the tiles.

"Nice one. Thanks."

"You need a new bag."

His lover glared at him. Her nostrils flared slightly as she took an audible breath. "No sh... you think, Sherlock?"

Barbara bent down, and Henrietta scrambled around him as they gathered up her dignity. The girl held up a bra to Tommy. "You're in big trouble, Tommy-Daddy."

"I know." Tommy snatched the item as politely as he could. With nowhere else to put it, he shoved it into his pocket. A lady in a chic rose suit and unbelievably high heels for a woman clearly over seventy, tutted as she stepped around Barbara's panties.

Even though he was in her bad books, he smiled softly as his lover continued to grumble under her breath as she shoved everything back into the ancient rucksack. She scooped the bag into her arms. "You can take your bag," she said to Tommy. "And make sure Henrietta has hers. Where do we go?"

Barbara thought that their apartment was charming. Built within an old 18th-century warehouse on the waterfront near the inner harbour, it's maritime theme capitalised on its history. Heavy timber beams formed sturdy rafters, each one joined to the others with a single long black rod secured by enormous bolts. The low ceilings, shiny white walls and blonde, ventilated wooden furniture gave the illusion of being on the gundeck of an old man'o'war. She sniffed the air expecting to catch the scent of cordite.

Tommy crinkled his brow. "What can you smell?"

"Nothing. I was checking for gunpowder."

"Gunpowder?"

"Yeah, sorry, I... this reminds me of HMS Victory at Portsmouth."

Tommy raised one eyebrow then grinned at her. "Well, hopefully, no battles will be fought here."

Henrietta bounced into the room, returning from her exploration of the small apartment. "There's only one bed. Where do I sleep?"

Tommy looked at Barbara. Like her, he had assumed she would continue to stay with them. "Er, you can stay with us, but there is a bed here." Tommy opened one of the two small cupboards against the wall. "Behold, a foldout bed."

"Oh! Show me, Tommy-Daddy."

Barbara watched as he indulged his daughter by pulling out the bed and showing her how it worked. Henrietta had his pride, and clearly wanted them to think of her as more mature than four, yet she remained childlike in other ways. It was a product of her intellectual age being so much more than her physical and emotional ages, and Barbara would have to be careful to ensure she and Tommy did not forget how vulnerable she was underneath that stiff up lip exterior.

Tommy folded the bed back into the cupboard. "Right, who's hungry?"

"Me," Henrietta said.

"Good, me too. What should we get?" He turned to Barbara. "What about some rye bread topped with herring?"

"Pass. What about we find a place and then decide? The Danes like potatoes. They must do chips."

"Ah, now Belgium is the place for chips."

"Tommy-Daddy?"

He knelt down. "Yes?"

"We have to buy Sanity Fair."

"Huh? Oh, Vanity Fair. Yes, of course, but aren't you hungry first?"

"We could have ice cream on the way," the child said with the manipulative innocence only children could get away with.

"You are obsessed with ice cream, young lady."

The girl paused in thought then nodded. "Yes," she agreed with a smile that lit up her face.

Tommy ruffled her hair. "What about I take you to Tivoli Gardens after we buy the book? They are opposite Central Railway Station and... they have ice cream."

Henrietta looked down and shook her head. "No. We have to read the book first. For Daddy." Her earlier exuberance vanished.

Tommy glanced at Barbara who nodded. "Of course, but we could do that there. They have rides and fun things to do too. So, we could have ice cream then plan what we want to do on a trip back there after we read the book."

Henrietta walked to the window and looked out over the harbour. Her face was barely above the high ledge. Barbara watched Tommy watching his daughter. He was trying so hard to do the right thing and took every counterargument from Henrietta as a sign he was failing as a father. The opposite was true.

"That's an excellent idea," Barbara said. "So how do we get to the station? Walk?"

"No, it's about half an hour to walk." Tommy jerked his head toward the window. "I thought little legs might need a cab."

"Ok, I'll get my coat. They might sell luggage at the station. I can buy another rucksack."

"No, let me buy you a new one. A proper bag. One that won't rot in my hand."

Barbara gave him a wicked smile. "If you're paying, I should buy the best we can find."

"Of course."

"But I don't want that. I want a comfortable, reliable one like my old one."

"Reliable? You saw it disintegrate."

"It's fifteen years old. One like it will be perfect thanks."

"I won't convince you, will I?"

She pursed her lips as if considering it then smiled. "No."

"Not even I take you to their finest department store and hand over my credit card?"

Barbara felt her face begin to colour. "Most definitely not." She leant closer. "I want your body, not your money."

"You are welcome to both. At any time."

Barbara came closer so that Tommy could kiss her. He took the hint, but instead of a loving short kiss, he wrapped his arms around her and tried to kiss her passionately. Her mouth gave in even though her mind was protesting. It did not seem right to be quite so open in front of Henrietta. She gently pushed Tommy away. "Henrietta... we should be less... amorous."

"Sorry."

Tommy released her but kept his arm around her shoulder. They both turned to the window. Henrietta was staring across the river towards Copenhagen's sleek Opera House. The harsh modern lines of the roof and the limestone, glass and metal front gave it a sense of solidity. It seemed to float mysteriously on an island divorced from the traditional low-rise warehouses beyond. Barbara walked over and knelt beside Henrietta. "What are you watching?"

"Those buildings," the child replied, pointing to the warehouses. "Do people live there too?"

"Probably. There are flowers on some of the windows."

"Why do things change?"

Barbara looked up at Tommy who had joined them at the window. "How do I answer that?" she asked him in one of their silent exchanges.

Tommy knelt down on the other side of Henrietta. "Change is a part of life. If things stayed the same, we would never learn or grow. If you hadn't learnt to read, you wouldn't be able to beat Babra as Scrabble, so not all change is bad."

"I guess."

"But won't thing won't ever change, Henrietta. Babra and I will never stop loving you, just as Mummy and Daddy's love goes on."

Henrietta looked up and smiled at her father. "You love me? Already? Daddy said in time..."

"Yes, I do. Daddy thought I would be angry about not being told about you. I'm not. And yes, I love you as much as if I had known you were my child from the day you were born."

"I think I love you too, Tommy-Daddy."

Barbara sniffed back tears as she watched father and daughter embrace. His arm came around her and pulled her into the circle.

"There, Tommy-Daddy. That's a bookshop." Henrietta dragged on his arm to pull him towards the store which was tucked into a corner of the cavernous station concourse.

The station reminded Tommy of many large late-19th-Century stations across Europe. Built of heavy red-brown bricks over an arching iron frame, the hall was lit by a peaked line of dirty glass skylights and checkerboard glass panels in 20-foot high curved windows. Dusty chandeliers hung low on long cords. Adorned with small crowns, they looked as if they would be more suited to a medieval banqueting hall then a modern railway terminus.

"Yes, I see." They approached the bookstall cautiously. Tommy and Barbara were aware that they may be under surveillance. They had agreed she would stay near the entrance to the open shop, while he and Henrietta bought the book. He nodded and took Henrietta's hand. "Do you remember what to ask for?"

"Yes. May I buy your limited edition copy of Vanity Fair?"

"Very good."

The bookseller was an older man with a stoop from years of bending over with heavy books. Henrietta walked up to him and cleared her throat. "May I buy your limited edition copy of Vanity Fair?"

"Vanity Fair? By William Makepeace Thackeray?"

Henrietta looked up at her father. He nodded. "Yes please," she replied with an air of self-assurance that bordered on arrogance. Tommy was beginning to see why Barbara considered him a ponce at times. Still, with Barbara as her step-mother, young Henrietta would soon have that knocked out of her.

The bookseller looked her up and down. "It's a very special book."

"I know," Henrietta replied.

The man shrugged then disappeared behind a counter. When he re-emerged, he held a well-worn red leather book. Frayed board showed through at the corners where time and readers had worn away the leather. The man blew the dust off the pages and then wiped his sleeve across the cover. "The price is 600 Krone, but for you, I will do a special price of 2400 Krone."

"Thank you."

The bookseller looked at Tommy. "We will take it," Tommy confirmed.

"Very well." The man found a small paper bag and inserted the book.

Tommy went to pull out his wallet but felt soft cloth over it. He groaned. The was no way to extract his wallet without removing it. He pulled out Barbara's bra and quickly transferred it to his other hand while he fished out his wallet. He tried to ignore the slight upward movement of the bookseller's eyebrow as he began to wedge the item back into his pocket. Beside him, Henrietta began to giggle.

"Right," Tommy said trying to refocus everyone on the transaction, "so one, two..." Henrietta tugged at his hand. "Just a minute until I pay the man."

"But..." Henrietta dissolved in a fit of giggling again.

Tommy ignored her and finished paying. "Thank you."

The bookseller smiled. "And thank you, Henrietta."

Tommy and the girl looked at him. "How...?" Tommy began.

"Aidan left it with me until you came. I am sorry about what happened."

"Do we...?"

"No. I know nothing more. You should go."

Tommy nodded. "Thank you again."

"Thank you," Henrietta echoed.

They walked outside. Barbara was waiting over by one of the global fast food outlets. Tommy hoped she did not want to eat there. She took one look at him and began to smile. She tried to hide it, which only made it worse. Tommy stood in front of her and opened his hands in question. "What?"

Barbara took Henrietta's hand. They both started to giggle again. "You have a tail."

Tommy looked down. Trailing from his right pocket was a black lace bra. He snatched it but the hook caught on the edge of his belt. "Rrrr." He pulled it again and it came free. He held it out to her. "Yours I believe."

"Ta." Barbara shoved it into her bag.

It was Tommy's turn to grin. "Come on. I need ice cream."