Chapter 34

"My lady, the guard captain from the Counting House has returned and is waiting in your office."

Sophia sighed and raised herself from the couch on which she lay, her long hair piled up on top of her head and a masseuse kneading the muscles of her back. She waved the masseuse away and removed the single pin that held her hair in place. It swept along behind her as she breezed past the messenger and out of the room.

The corridor between her private quarters and her office was long and cold. The necessity for space between one and the other, however, was far greater than the need for comfort. She walked quickly to avoid the chill, her high heels clicking impatiently on the floorboards as she made her way onwards. When she finally reached the office and brushed past the guard who had hurried to open the door for her, she was met by a rush of warm air from the computer systems running within.

"Report!" Sophia snapped at the Counting House guard.

"My lady," the captain began, saluting, "there has been no sign of activity either within the building or outside it. My men have been placed strategically at watch points where they may observe without being seen themselves and are following a three watch pattern. All entrances to the building have been located and either blocked or guarded. A thorough search has been made of the premises and all bodies found have been disposed of as ordered."

Sophia raised an eyebrow and looked the guard captain over critically. Although not the most charismatic of leaders, he was at least good at his job.

"Satisfactory," she replied, in clipped, staccato tones, "You may return to your men. Take any additional men you need and rations for a week. You are to remain there and form a garrison at the Counting House. Send messengers with written reports daily. They may be armed. Use any spare men to ready the building to be used as a barracks. If anyone does turn up, your initial orders regarding such an event still apply. Any questions?"

"No, my lady."

"Good. You may go."

The captain saluted again, then turned and left the room. Sophia watched him go thoughtfully: she had been sure someone would have tried to return to the Counting House by now.

***********************

"You realise this still doesn't make up for disappearing on me."

"Hey: that wasn't my fault! You know it wasn't!"

"I know there was a good chance when you walked out that door that you'd never be coming back! So did you! You still promised you'd be back in a week!"

"Britt, I had to go: he's my brother!"

Steve threw his arms out to the side in a gesture of defeat. He sighed. He knew Britt was right: nobody should make a promise they knew they might not be able to keep. There wasn't anything he could do about that now, though. Except apologise, of course... And bring her breakfast... And do her chores... And tidy the salon...

He had just finished sweeping the floor of the salon. Britt's new pet project had been popular with the growing group and there was plenty of work needing done to get the salon back into full working order. He ran his hand through his spiky, bleached blond hair, rolled his eyes and shrugged. There was nothing else for it. The Misfits had been right. He would have to grovel.

Edging over to the door to check for onlookers, Steve took a deep breath, closed the door and strode over to Britt. She looked mildly surprised at first, but that was nothing compared to the look of mingled amazement and amusement that played across her features when he dropped to his knees and took both her hands in his.

"My wonderful, amazing, beautiful, darling Brittany: I am truly, truly sorry for leaving you and for making you a promise that I couldn't keep. I ask of you, nay beg of you: can you ever forgive me?"

***********************

"You stink: where are the nice new clothes Britt looked out for you?"

Anni craned her neck upwards in the direction of the smell.

"My dearest Anni," Cat's voice floated down from the myriad of pipes, "I know how much you think of Britt's skills as the new Gok Wan, but do you really expect me to work up here, on this stuff, in those sleeves and shoes? Besides: that's not me that actually is the sewers. Di and Sarah just went out that way five minutes ago to get some more stuff from their place."

"Huh. So what are you wearing, dare I ask?"

"Old pair of jeans and that T-shirt I got free at a Guinness drinking contest."

"Oh, you mean the one you won at the Guinness drinking contest?"

"Was that all you came down here to ask me or was there something more important?"

"Zane sent me down to say he's nearly finished with the alarm system and he wanted to know if you want a hand here or up on the roof?"

"He sent you to ask me that? Why didn't he just wait until he was finished then come down and ask me himself?"

"I don't know, but it might have had something to do with the fact that Christy had just showed up."

"Ah. Oh dear."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, dearest, that we may have to keep an eye on Christy for a while. Aren't you forgetting the fiancé that mysteriously dumped her and disappeared into the night just before she arrived here? After crashing her stolen car, I might add."

"True. I guess you're right."

"I'm not saying we put the dampers on it totally: we just need to make sure he's not going to hurt her."

"What makes you think he will?"

"What makes you think he won't?"

***********************

"What do you think?"

"I don't know, it's tricky."

"You can do it. You're good with tweezers: you took the bullet out of Marc's shoulder, remember. This can't be tougher than that."

"But if my hand shakes, even just a little bit, it's all over!"

"Just try. I can't exactly do it for you!"

Taking a deep breath, Beth picked up the tweezers. Kyle watched her progress apprehensively. The fine ends of the instruments closed on their target and slowly, carefully, Beth began to remove it. Kyle held his breath: she was almost there. The atmosphere was tense. All eyes were locked on to the painfully slow movement of Beth's hand. Sweat began to form on her small forehead. She was almost there. Just a little farther.

A buzzer rang out. Kyle and Beth groaned. Alice and Marie cheered.

"And I'm still the Queen of Operation!" Alice cheered. "Hand over the prize! We won!"

Laughing, Marie picked up the paper crown that had spent the game in pride of place atop a purloined hat model, on a plinth, in the middle of the old, but not yet defunct, shoppers' crèche. She placed it on Alice's head with great reverence, then burst into a fit of giggles.

***********************

Will tiptoed into the shoe store. Spotting Marc in the far corner, he raised a hand. Marc got up and tiptoed over to him, picking his way gingerly through the scattered shoes, scarves, cushions and handbags that Bobbi seemed to think made a good carpet.

"Is she still asleep?" Will asked, keeping his voice as low as possible.

"Sound," Marc replied. "She seems to have burned herself out."

Will took Marc's arm and led him out of the store and out of sight of the sleeping figure of Bobbi.

"What's wrong?" Marc frowned at his friends surreptitious behaviour.

"Nothing, nothing," Will whispered quickly. "It's just: I've been talking to Amy..."

"You seem to spend a lot of time doing that."

"And she's been telling me about Bobbi. How she was before this happened. The sort of stuff that led to her current state of mind."

"And this has to be spoken of in secret why exactly?"

"I think Bobbi is building a world around herself so that she doesn't have to face the real one: the one in which her family, most notably her mother, is dead."

"I thought we'd worked that one out already."

"Well, we had," Will admitted, shrugging, "but what I'm talking about now is what we do about it. Every day, every minute, that Bobbi spends in your company, playing with shoes or whatever else, then the deeper into her world she sinks and the further from reality she gets."

"So, what? You want me to abandon her?" Marc raised his voice a bit, anger starting to seep through.

"Mate: you hardly know her! You've never seen her in her right mind! You don't need to be so protective of her all of the time. You need to let Amy take over for a bit, and some of her other friends too. Let them try to bring her back to normality. They're the only ones who stand a chance!"

"Oh, because they'd obviously been doing so well up until we arrived!"

"Granted, they need a bit of help, but I have an idea."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"I want to try hypnotic regression therapy."

Marc laughed. A short, sharp burst of laughter that made Will's face darken.

"You want to hypnotise her?"

"What's so ridiculous about that? It's a known therapeutic technique. It's frequently used to help patients recover repressed memories so that they can deal with them in a healthy way instead of resorting to living in a fantasy world!"

"Listen to yourself, Doctor Frasier Crane! You got through one year of psych. before this nightmare happened and now you think you're an expert! You've never hypnotised someone in your life! What makes you so sure you won't just put her into a sleep she won't come out of?"

"I know what I'm doing, at least in theory! I might not be an expert, but I'm the best we've got! Or perhaps you would rather she stayed in her current dream world, depending on you for the rest of her life! Perhaps you're scared your new pet project isn't going to want you around so much once she's sane!"

"And I suppose you want me to help you with it: keep her calm for you while you start playing Russian roulette with her mind?"

"No, actually, I don't want you anywhere near her. I want you to go back to your room, your own room, and stay there until it's over. Amy will help me keep her calm."

"What, now?"

"The more she sees of you, the more difficult it will be to bring her back. If you really care for her as much as you say you do, you'll go. Now."

Marc opened his mouth to reply and was cut off as a pair of black-clad legs wrapped around his waist and blue-clad arms around his shoulders. Bobbi's face appeared over his shoulder.

"MINE!"