Sundays were generally the quietest day of the week at the Safe House. Aside from the change in shift staff at the security lodge, it was not unusual for the gates to remain closed. Whilst Louise lived on site, she had her own quarters and was rarely seen on the weekends, unless there was some kind of emergency; mercifully this was a rare occurrence.

Within minutes of waking on this particular Sunday, however, all four girls realised that something was different. From her bedroom, at the front of the house, Barbara had awoken to the distant sound of the gates opening, followed a few minutes later by the familiar noise of a car rumbling over the loose stones on the driveway. She tiptoed to the window, doing her best not to wake Trixie, who was still snoring quietly. All that she could see was a silver saloon car, parked close to the front of the house; she returned to sit on her bed, but seconds later heard the clunk of the main door and the muffled sound of voices downstairs.

Barbara crept out onto the landing and came face to face with Delia.

"There's someone downstairs," whispered the Welsh woman anxiously.

Barbara looked petrified. "Nobody ever comes on a Sunday, something must be wrong."

They strained to hear, hoping to catch a snippet of conversation which might give them a clue as to what was going on.

"That's Louise" whispered Barbara, "But I don't recognise the man's voice.

Continuing with their rather unsuccessful attempt at eavesdropping, they heard a door close and could no longer detect the voices. Barbara looked at Delia in alarm.

"We need to wake the others."

"Look, there's not a lot we can do until someone comes to talk to us" whispered Trixie as they made their way down the stairs.

Patsy peered over the bannister,

"Maybe they are just having a meeting?" she suggested.

"On a Sunday? Not likely!" countered Trixie, shaking her head.

Ever the practical one, Delia took the lead, ushering the other three into the kitchen. "Let's at least have some breakfast whilst we can."

An hour passed and there was still no further sound from downstairs. Then they heard another car pull up outside. Delia beat Barbara in the race to the window,

"Jenny" she announced "That's definitely a bad sign."

It appeared that Jenny was whom they had been awaiting as, shortly after her arrival, the girls heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Trixie forced her most reassuring smile, attempting to bolster Barbara, whilst Delia slipped her hand into Patsy's under cover of the table.

"Morning ladies" said Louise; her familiar steady tone was present but there was distinct strain behind her smile which rendered all four girls uneasy. "I'm so sorry to disturb you on a Sunday; however, I do need to borrow Trixie, if I may...you might want to get dressed first my dear". Trixie visibly paled as the others eyed her anxiously.

"Of course," said Trixie quietly, rising and making her way from the room.

"What's going on?" demanded Delia, but Louise simply smiled and shook her head.

"I am sorry but I can't tell you anything more at the moment."

Up in her bedroom, Trixie was pulling on her clothes whilst fighting to remain as calm as she could. She resolutely applied her make up and ensured that her hair was immaculate. Whatever it was that she was going to have to face, she was damn sure that she was going into battle with everything as it should be. Dozens of scenarios flitted through her head, each one more unsettling than the one before. She forced herself from her room and, holding her head high, she made her way back down the stairs. Louise met her on the first floor landing and accompanied her to the ground floor.

Entering Louise's office, Trixie found herself face to face with a slightly dishevelled looking man who appeared to be in his early 50s.

"Hello again" he said kindly. Trixie gave him a tight smile; she recognised him as the officer who had interviewed her following the arrest of her then boyfriend

"Hello Superintendent Turner" she managed, her voice unusually high pitched.

"Do call me Patrick"

"Would you sit down Trixie," requested Louise.

Trixie reluctantly perched on the nearest chair trying to avoid making eye contact with Jenny, who was sat alongside Louise, watching the blonde like a hawk.

"So? What's happened?" demanded Trixie, getting straight to the point. Patrick smiled, this forthright young woman had clearly lost none of her mettle during her time at the Safe House. He wasted no time in enlightening her.

"So, you know that Rafi's trial is due to start this week?" Trixie grimaced, she had been doing her best to forget about this.

"Yes," she said coldly.

"Well, I had a call on Friday night to let me know about some evidence that the defence is intending to put forward."

"More lies, no doubt" Trixie muttered bitterly.

Patrick continued; "Obviously we have your statement but, with this new argument that they are putting forward, it is possible that we might need to call you as a witness."

Trixie shook her head in horror.

"But you promised, you said that my written statement would be fine; I told you.. I can't give evidence, I won't".

"I know I did and I'm sorry; I understand that this will come as a nasty shock. We really thought that your statement would be sufficient, but we can't risk him getting acquitted, and we truly believe that your testimony would make the difference. "There was silence as Trixie mulled this over. She shook her head desperately;

"After everything I've been through. If it wasn't bad enough being dragged off a plane in front of everyone, as if I was a criminal; now you want to put me through this." Her voice was thick with emotion and all colour had drained from her face.

"We will talk you through the process to help you prepare for it," Patrick told her kindly.

"I don't want you to talk me through it!" snapped Trixie, "I trusted you, you gave me your word...you promised me." Patrick looked to Jenny and Louise for help but Trixie wasn't finished. "What the hell was the point in my coming here, leaving my home, my family, all my friends so that I could be safe, if you're going to drag me back there and make me face him in a courtroom? Tell me that!" She was now screaming at him.

Louise looked to Jenny who stood up and moved to crouch in front of Trixie.

"Listen to me Trixie; we will keep you safe and we will help you with this." she told her calmly. Trixie shook her head, the tears that had been pooling in her eyes now spilling over and running down her cheeks.

"I don't want to do this," she croaked, hiding her face in her hands. "I may as well just run away," she sobbed.

Jenny took her hands,

"No, come on now, you know that's not the answer"

"When?" stammered Trixie.

"The case is due to start on Tuesday," Patrick told her quietly "The jury will need to be sworn in and the judge will hear opening statements. Then it will be the prosecution arguments. I can't say for sure what day we would call you, but not before Thursday or Friday at the earliest". Trixie nodded slowly.

"OK, can I go now, please?"

Louise sighed and nodded. "Of course, but I would like to speak with you again later." She was talking to thin air, Trixie was long gone.

The other three girls had not moved from the kitchen; they could hear Trixie's raised voice from where they were and waited nervously for her to re-emerge. Soon enough they heard her running up the stairs and the unmistakeable sound of her sobs. Barbara immediately ran from the room, and sprinted up the stairs. She barged into the bedroom where she found Trixie crying hysterically into her pillow.

"Trix, what happened?" she pleaded rushing to her side. Trixie was the strong one, she was the one who always made everything OK and to see her in this much distress cut through Barbara like a blade. She did her best to offer comfort, rubbing her back and kissing her shoulder but Trixie was inconsolable.

Patsy and Delia were not far behind and Barbara looked desperately at them, her own eyes brimming with tears.

"Trix?" probed Delia gently "What's the matter Cariad? What did they say?" Trixie turned her head to the side.

"I have to go to court; they want me to give evidence because otherwise they think that bastard will get off."

Delia gasped. "Oh Trix, I am so sorry darling. Do you know when?"

Trixie shrugged, "Probably some time this week."

Between them, they succeeded in calming Trixie a little; Patsy was sent to fetch a tray of tea and they all crowded onto Trixie's bed, the physical closeness serving to provide comfort and unity. If there was one thing that the Safe House certainly did, it made the girls fiercely protective of one another. Their shared fears and experiences and the enforced isolation from all that they knew, bonded them in a way that they had never experienced before. Even in their darkest moments, each of them knew that they were never alone.