Beatrice, I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

If you have ever been around nature as the snow melts away, you may have seen birds going about their day collecting up twigs and moss and anything else they can use to create a safe haven for their eggs. It is a long laborious job, particularly if you are being targeted by a particularly thieving wren, but the end result is always one of joy and before you know it you are being woken by the birdsong of a new generation.

It is not only birds who are prone to nesting, but also to women in the final stages of their pregnancy. I'm not saying they will suddenly sprout wings and become obsessed with moss, they do things a little differently. They will paint the nursery with reckless abandon, buy enough items to sink a small ship and fret over the amount of sunlight that spills into the room.

Reader, I wish I could tell you that I was going to describe a wonderful tale of a couple as they got ready for the birth of their child. I wish I could fill it with pleasing anecdotes of cravings for blueberry ice-cream at 3 o'clock in the morning or a the hilarity of trying to fit a car seat. I wish I could tell you that both parents stood back at their finished nursery with pride, beaming with excitement at the thought of their first child shortly coming into the world.

I could tell you their story, but it is too painful. They died in a terrible fire and it is for that reason that I am duty bound to report on the story of the Baudelaire children as they try to navigate through their horrible circumstances.

Violet Baudelaire was in the final few weeks of her pregnancy and finding it quite exhausting to move. Nevertheless, nesting had brought back a certain gleam in her eye as she wrote lists and lists of everything she needed to prepare for.

"Count Olaf?"

The Baudelaire's were with their guardian in the dining room. Swathed in red velvet, the room already had a level of grime you might associate with a room that had been abandoned for several years.

Olaf was slumped in his chair, his feet resting up on the table in a display of disgusting bad manners. Since acquiring the Baudelaire fortune, Olaf had insisted on only the finest cuisine. I should tell you that often the finest cuisine is actually quite disgusting it's just expensive. Therefore it wasn't uncommon for Count Olaf to order something horrendous, have two bites and then snack for the rest of the day.

Currently he held two chicken wings in his hands, grease dripping down his chin. Klaus noticed Sunny was watching him in disgust, quite unable to look away. They were not allowed to sit, only stand and wait for further instruction.

"What is it, orphan?"

Violet swallowed nervously. "The baby will be arriving soon. They'll need things. A cot. A changing table. Clothes."

Olaf raised his eyebrow. "And you bother me with this why?"

Violet flushed, a hint of anger in her dark eyes. "You have taken our money. I have nothing to provide the baby with. I need you to buy these things."

Olaf grimaced and took another bite of chicken. The Baudelaire's grimaced as he spoke with his mouth full.

"There's no such thing as a free lunch."

Many years ago, saloon bars were enormously popular as they generously offered their drinking customers a free lunch. It was heralded as the most charitable thing in the world. However, an undercover reporter discovered that the bar owners were clever rather than charitable. They'd sell food covered in salt and then raised the prices of drinks as the customers got thirstier. With a heavy heart, the reporter wrote the headline:

There's no such thing as a free lunch.

While it is a sentiment I agree with, Count Olaf's use of it was unfair.

"Your use of that expression is unfair." Klaus said fiercely. "You've taken our fortune. We don't have anything else to give you."

"Paupers!" cried Sunny. "Be generous!"

Olaf raised his eyebrow. "I've been plenty generous, orphans. As I've told you many times, I could have just slit your throats by now. My allowing you to live with a roof over your head, clothed and with food in your belly is evidence enough of my generosity."

As you know, the hook handed man had snuck in some old clothes for the ever growing Sunny, while the white faced women had taken pity on Violet and stolen some maternity wear for her. Klaus was not so lucky, as he'd grown his clothes had failed to get the memo leaving him with trousers that no longer reached his ankles and shirts that pinched tight around his forearms.

"Please, Olaf." Violet said quietly. "This is your baby."

As Olaf gently laid his hands on the swell of his sisters stomach, Klaus wondered if it had worked.

It had not.

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I am told that one of Olaf's associates once asked the Baudelaire's to describe grief. Klaus Baudelaire floundered for an explanation, a thousand thoughts filling his brain but nothing came out. Instead it was Violet Baudelaire who spoke.

"You cannot describe grief. Only feel it."

I have painted various portraits of grief for you in my research so that you might have the smallest understanding of such a painful feeling. However, if you have experienced grief you will find that nothing quite comes close enough. I have written poems, letters, prose and scripts, yet nothing compares to the devastating ache I feel knowing that my beloved Beatrice will never caress my cheek again. I will never see her warm smile or hear her tinkling laugh. She is gone from me. No matter how hard you try, you will never quite be able to put grief into words.

"What are we going to do?"

Violet brought Klaus out of his daydream. The three Baudelaire's were in the babies nursery, although the word nursery here is just a generous word for a unkempt room in which a baby will eventually sleep. Klaus gazing out of the window and dreading his approaching leaving day.

Violet pacing the nursery like a distressed lioness at the zoo.

Sunny perched on the bed, leaning against the rusty frame as she watched her siblings wondering if things would ever return to normal. Not that she could even remember what normal felt like. For Sunny knew that Klaus would be going off with those villainous people, while Violet would be understandably pre-occupied with a newborn. She supposed that eventually she'd be forgotten about. Perhaps that was for the best.

Violet was biting her lip. "I've narrowed it down to the bare minimum and I won't need much. We can use some of Sunny's old clothes, anything that's too damaged I can turn into cloth nappies. I can bathe them in the sink. The baby just needs somewhere to sleep."

Growing up the Baudelaire children had never wanted for anything. They were not spoiled per se as it was not in their nature to be greedy, but they had never come across the tightening of purse strings. It tugged at Klaus' heart now to see Violet this way.

"I wondered if you'd been inventing things." It felt ridiculous to hear him say out loud. His sister was no longer the girl who spent her days inventing ans dreaming of new ways to help the world. She'd made that perfectly clear.

"No." Her tone is short, but not unkind. "I told you, Klaus. It's just materials I've needed for fixing up the house. I don't think I know how to invent anymore."

"Ribbon?" Sunny asked, her mouth wobbling.

Violet smiled down sadly at her little sister. "I used to think that just sweeping my hair out of my face could solve any problem."

"And then?"

"Then I grew up."

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As Klaus snapped his suitcase shut he felt the pit of dread in his stomach grow. This was his last night with his sisters. Tomorrow the man with the beard but no hair and the woman with the hair but no beard would arrive and whisk him away to begin his schooling. Truth be told, Klaus found he couldn't even be certain that's what they were going to do. For all he knew, they could just as easily take him somewhere and see to his unfortunate demise. He pushed those fears aside and tried to think logically. If that had been their plan, they would have done so by now.

Sunny watched him with undisguised despair in her tearful eyes. As he'd packed, her little hands had clung to his trouser leg as she padded around after him. Every now again he would ruffle her curls to reassure her, but he knew deep down that nothing would work. He could not promise Sunny what her future held. He could not reassure her that everything was going to be okay.

As she reached up for him, Klaus swung her up and held her close to his chest. Soon his shoulder was wet with her tears. There would have been a time where Klaus would have been disgusted by this and put her down. But then their parents had died.

"No matter what," Klaus whispered as he soothed her, "I will come back for you. Whenever I go away, I will always be making plans to come back for you."

"My know."

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"Don't bite the hand that feeds you. Do you know what that means, boy?"

For reasons unknown to him, Klaus had been summoned before Count Olaf in his poor excuse for a study. The air was stale with cigarette smoke and wine, years worth of rubbish piling up in the corners and a thick level of grime clingy to the mahogany furniture. I do not need to tell you that it was an evil place well fitting of an evil man, because I suspect you are already intelligent enough to work that out for yourselves. What I do need to tell you is that Klaus Baudelaire would never step foot in this room again.

Klaus Baudelaire liked answering questions. He was a naturally curious boy and it pleased him to share his wealth of knowledge with people. However, people does not include Count Olaf.

"It means don't turn against a benefactor." Klaus' jaw was so clenched his teeth gritted together. "I wouldn't say you've been a benefactor."

Count Olaf's thin lips spread into a smile as he placed his hands together. "I've been very generous. I took in three orphans and kept them alive, even though most of my enemies would have died a lot quicker in your shoes. I kept a roof over your heads, food in your bellies and declined multiple offers to sell you. You ought to be thanking me, there are those out there with far worse."

Klaus met his speech with a stony silence. An expression here meaning he kept silent as he imagined throwing large chunks of rock at his guardian.

"However," Olaf brought him back to reality, "I was referring to your new guardians."

The man with the beard but no hair and the woman with the hair but no beard. Klaus still felt sick at the thought of it.

"Hear some advice from someone who was trained by them." Olaf drawled with his usual grandiose air. "Someone who really knows what it's like. Someone who has a true understanding of what it means to be-"

"Get on with it."

Olaf's eyes shone. "I can tell you now that impeccable manners are required at all times."

"I've never seen you use manners."

"They're not needed for vermin. At your new school you will be the bottom of the food chain, so if you want to climb that ladder you will need to use your best manners to slime your way up ahead seeing as you lack real talent. Don't spend time making friends make associates. Make people admire you who will follow you."

"I thought you said I don't have any real talent." Klaus said sardonically. "How can I make them admire me?"

Olaf shrugged as if it was obvious. "If you admire yourself people who believe you have something worth admiring. They'll be drawn to it. For other people to believe the fantasy you first have to create it and act it yourself."

Klaus felt it explained a lot about Count Olaf.

"Of course it's not a tactic I needed to use. My natural talents drew people to me like a moth to a flame."

Not wanting to think about such a gruesome image, Klaus squirmed in his spot. "Is there anything else?"

Olaf's face clouded over. "Do not give them a reason to kill you. Believe me, orphan. They will. They will kill you if you disobey them. They will kill you if you show weakness. Heck, they'll even kill you if you look at them funny. They will kill you if they grow bored of you. Where you're going isn't a normal school. It's a mountain. You need to climb to the top to survive and if that means peeling off the clinging fingers of your comrades then so be it. Or you'll be the one falling."

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In every dream it felt like he was falling. He'd always wake up before he hit the bottom in an ice cold sweat, heart thumping as he stifled a cry. Sunny didn't seem to be sleeping either. Every now and again he'd see her peeping at him worriedly.

"It'll be ok."

Klaus wasn't sure if he was saying it to himself or to her.

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The wind was as sharp as knives as it cut through him. He was falling so fast he could barely catch his breath, falling backwards into the unknown, hoping he'd pass out before he hit them bottom. But survival still kicked in, his reached out his hands trying to grab at something, anything. But what was there around? White nothingness. Air slipped through his fingertips. He had to try.

"Klaus!"

Violet. She sounded so far away.

"Klaus!"

If he stretched out a little further maybe she could reach him.

"Klaus!"

Violet's face loomed into view as he woke. He wasn't falling. He was in bed. Why wasn't Violet? She looked over her shoulder cautiously.

"Take Sunny." Her voice was a firm whisper. "There's a taxi waiting for you at the park. It'll take you to where the map led you before. The driver should go with you, but just in case, there's a manhole cover by a tree. It will be unlocked. Open it up and there'll be an underground tunnel. Climb down using these." She hauled a bag onto the bed that made a large clanging noise. "They're easy enough to use, I invented them myself. When you get the bottom of the tunnel take three rights and one left. Knock on the door and hum Addio del Passato from La Traviata. They'll let you in."

"Who are they?"

"VFD." Violet was hurriedly zipping up Sunny's coat and putting on her shoes. "I've been in contact with them for a few months now. They'll explain everything."

Klaus knew he wasn't falling any more but it still felt like the room was spinning. This wasn't the meek Violet he'd come to know recently, but this wasn't the old Violet either. She was stronger. No longer a child.

Sunny reached out and touched her cheek. "Violet come?"

Klaus frowned. "Of course she's coming. Aren't you, Violet?"

She didn't look at him, instead taking Sunny's hand in hers and kissing it gently. "You know I can't."

Klaus felt himself grow hot as tears sprung to his eyes. "Yes you can. Of course you're coming. We won't leave you behind."

"You did before." It wasn't accusatory.

"That was different." Klaus stumbled helplessly. "I was always going to come back for you. When are VFD coming to get you?"

"Soon." Although she didn't look sure. "But what matters right now is getting you and Sunny out of here. You have to leave and tonight is the only night we can do it. If we-"

"I don't understand." Klaus interrupted fiercely. "Why won't you come with us?"

Violet met his gaze sadly. Her hand rested on the protruding bump under her dressing gown.

"I can't move quickly enough." She whispered. "When you go you'll have to run. I can't slow you down."

"Why can't the taxi get closer to the house?"

"They could be killed on sight if recognised. It's safer for them to meet you at the park. They can't risk losing any more people."

"I can't risk losing you!"

It burst out of him and before he knew it he was crying. They were all crying. The three Baudelaire orphans crying at the thought of never seeing one another again. Crying at the uncertainty of their future. Crying for their parents they'd not been able to mourn and missed very dearly.

"Please, go now." Violet dried her tears with the back of her hand. "I beg you. Take Sunny and run. She's not safe here."

"You're not safe here."

Violet shrugged with a sad amount of resignation for one so young. "I'm his wife. I'm carrying his child. He won't kill me. Please, Klaus. VFD will come for me soon. I just need to get you safe first. If I get caught leaving I don't know what he'll do to you." Tears pricked in her eyes again and Sunny launched herself into her arms. "If I stay behind I can persuade Olaf not to go after you. He has the Baudelaire fortune. He doesn't need you any more. Please go while it's still safe. You were going to leave tomorrow anyway!"

"That's different. Count Olaf knows about that, he wants me to go. If we escape now he'll be angry and I won't be here to protect you. We're the Baudelaire's. We stick together."

Violet's brown eyes met his steadily. It was just like seeing his mother again.

"You don't need to protect me. I made a promise to our parents, as the oldest, that I would always protect the two of you. I promised them I would look after you. I promised I would care for you. Let me fulfil that promise."

Many years ago I was mountain climbing with my brother when he fell between a piece of rock and a hard piece of ice. Despite the difference in materials, my brother found himself quite stuck and when quizzed about it later said that it felt much like the same thing. Stuck between a rock and a hard place he was not sure which was worse.

For Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire they were experiencing a similar feeling now, although it was figurative rather than literal.

On the one hand they did not feel that they could leave their sister behind to suffer the wrath of their evil guardian when he found out that they'd escaped. They could not be certain when they'd return for her. They could not be certain if they would ever see her again.

I would interject here that my research has come to a halt. I do not know if the Baudelaire's ever reunited. There is no evidence of a joyful reunion, the trail grows cold. I tell you this now so that you may finally cast it out of your mind that this is a happy story and instead look away.

On the other hand, this was what they had spent so long waiting for. This is the hope they'd clung onto. What was VFD? Who was VFD? Why had it taken them so long? If Violet had confidence in them, they supposed they did too. VFD would be able to help them rescue Violet and see Count Olaf sent to prison for good.

"We'll go." Klaus could scarcely believe he was saying it. "You're right. It's not safe for Sunny here. We don't know what would happen to her when I go away. It's better that we leave now."

Violet gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Klaus. Now go quickly. There isn't much time. More of Olaf's spies will be waking up soon. The less people who see you the better. You'll have to run as fast as you can."

Klaus nodded. The time spent with Olaf scavenging handfuls of food had turned Klaus from a boy who could occasionally affectionately be described as portly, to one who was lean and whippet thin. Yet, his chores had built up enough muscle that would help him hold onto Sunny and the bag at the same time.

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The Baudelaire's padded down the stairs. Once more, every creak on the stairs felt like a shriek. Every breath felt like a scream. Every step felt like a crash. But they got to the door and the house remained silent.

"This isn't goodbye." Klaus tried to sound confident. "I'll get VFD to come for you before the week is out. I'll tell them to come for you tomorrow. Whoever they are, I'll fight for them to get you."

Violet didn't say anything, choosing instead to envelop her siblings in a hug.

With a pang, Klaus realised it was the first time she'd been close to him since her wedding. It was a little awkward to hug her now, her belly getting in the way, but he realised how much he'd missed it.

As Violet pulled away, Sunny tried to cling onto her hair, stifling a wail as she did so.

Gently, Violet untangled herself. "It's okay, little one." She straightened up, her face determined. "Now go. Run and don't look back. I love you both."

"We love you."

"Love."

Klaus and Sunny stared at Violet, desperately trying to drink in everything they could about her. The way she held herself as someone reborn. The strong smile she gave them. The twinkle that was coming back into her eyes again. They stared at her hoping to remember every tiny little detail. Just in case.

Then Klaus turned on his heel and ran into the night.

Long chapter! Perhaps it will make up for the delay in getting it to you. Thank you so much to my loyal readers who have stuck with this story! I hope you've been enjoying it and liked seeing Violet reawaken. I said it wouldn't be too long! I can't wait to hear what you think. Just one more chapter to go. I think I've been putting it off because I've loved writing this story. But I have some ideas for a sequel so that could help...xx