With thanks, ever to all of you reading and/ or reviewing.

For RebeccatheHistorian, who inspired this chapter, and with thanks to her too, for all her advice in the plotting and execution. Any mistakes are absolutely not hers and should be blamed on this galumphing Anglo-Catholic.

February, 1930

Jem was deep in the throes of inspecting the unfortunate Pelorous Choke when the surgery telephone rang. For a moment he almost ignored it, not liking to leave the late Mr Choke mid-investigation, his insides gaping for just anyone to see. But the phone went on, so he dried his hands fastidiously and said, 'Sorry, about this. Do forgive me for taking the call. Only it might be an emergency, you know.' Pelorous Choke, being dead, said nothing in reply. Jem hadn't really expected him to. He still grimaced sympathetically at his patient and answered the phone.

It was as well he did, because the call came in from a harried Faith, who was stuck at the office, couldn't get hold of Teddy, had tried Geordie and had no better luck.

'No,' said Jem, 'you wouldn't. They're out chasing down the culprit behind the death of Pelorous Choke.'

'Right,' said Faith, brisk as she ever was up at the hospital. 'Course they are. And Benwick wasn't on the desk because…'

'Oh, that's a rare one, that,' said Jem. 'He's only been delegated to investigate a break-in at the Natural History Museum. God knows what they took, if anything, but obviously Geordie hadn't got time to spare.'

'So enter Benwick. Got it. And Kitty is unreachable as ever, too, but that's not exactly breaking news. It's not even yesterday's news. Look, Jem, do me a favour and go home by way of the butcher's shop, can you? I'd do it but something's come up, and obviously Teddy – '

'Couldn't you get hold of Helen? Christopher?'

'Mara reckons they've gone haring off on one of their Expeditions. They came by for Iain about an hour ago, and there's no answer at Larkrise.'

'Ah,' said Jem. 'Right, well, in that case, consider it done.'

'Thanks,' said Faith. 'And good luck with Mr Choke. Tell the others I said so.'

Jem assured her that he would and rang off. Then he turned back to the desiccated body of Pelorous Choke and resumed his work.

'You poor chap,' he said, 'dead and your dignity compromised for the sake of a telephone call. I really am sorry. But it was an emergency after all. Domestic one, as it turns out. No one maimed or mutilated or, I don't know, hunting vampires…'

A further half hour passed and Jem finished finally, mercifully with the body. He shrouded Choke with a sheet, washed his hands, and coat in hand set out for the butcher. It occurred to him as he set out that he didn't actually know where Faith and Teddy bought in the meat from, but he did remember having once or twice run similar errands with Geordie Carlisle under not wildly dissimilar circumstances. Nattie must have been a babe-in-arms at the time, Jem thought. Or possibly Ben. Or perhaps it had been…One of Geordie's gremlins, anyway. Jem picked his way cautiously through increasingly narrow streets, squinting at signs and peering at windows for hints. He was halfway to giving up and proposing a pick-up supper of whatever could be cobbled together from the larder, when a hand closed around his elbow and a voice like Waterford crystal said, 'Jem! What are you looking for? Can I help?'

Jem turned with relief to face Judith Carlisle, basket on one arm, several dispirited gremlins at her knee.

'Cold still ongoing?' he asked them sympathetically, and a chorus of sniffles confirmed his diagnosis. Judith offered him a smile equal parts exhausted and warm; Jem recognised it for the universal signal of overworked mothers everywhere.

'I won't hold you up,' he said. 'Though if you could point me towards the butcher's, I'd be grateful.'

'I'll come with you,' said Judith and linked her arm through his. 'We were going that way anyway.'

'Thanks,' said Jem, and gestured towards the basket. Judith parted with it willingly, and Jem understood why as he shuffled it onto his arm. The thing certainly had heft to it.

'Just what sort of errands are you running?' he wanted to know. 'Food for the five thousand, or what?'

Judith made a noise of amusement back in her throat. 'And how much food do you think my household gets through in a week?' Mentally Jem tried to estimate, running through various overgrown gremlins, young cold-ridden ones, the inspector, Judith, various unsolicited guests in the shape of his own gremlins, his brother's, said brother, himself, Teddy, Kitty, Faith, Mara…

'Fair point,' said Jem. Judith must have seen something of dawning understanding in his face because she laughed a warm glissandi of mirth.

'Here we are,' said Judith, and Jem stumbled, brought up short. It smelled disarmingly like the police surgery and for a wild moment he thought she'd made a mistake. But then he saw the carcasses hanging in the window and saw that they were animal. Dear Lord, he thought, it's a half step from here to the police surgery. Judith had reclaimed her basket, and opened the door, a tinkling bell prefacing her arrival. Jem hung back a minute, breathing deeply and bracing himself against the smell of offal. Metallic. Iron-rich.

'Uncle Jem!' from one of the gremlins and he hastened to catch up with them.

The bell had brought a ruddy-cheeked man to the counter, who was even now conversing amicably with Judith.

'You'll want chicken liver,' he was saying, 'and alsobrisket, lamb mince…' he seemed to know her order by heart. 'Salt, too.'

Jem wondered idly why on earth Judith Carlisle couldn't buy salt at the usual place, but supposed it was probably still another culinary quirk of her kitchen. It was that or she was particularly loyal to this particular butcher. He was certainly good at his job, even now he was saying, '…chicken fat. I can do you a good offer. The children will love it…'

'Mendel,' Judith said, perforce cutting him off, 'I've brought you a customer. From the station house.'

'Ah,' said the man called Mendel, clapping his hands, 'You are Teddy's family, yes?'

For a moment Jem just stood there in the shop, with the papered floor and the smell of blood and blinked. Then his brain caught up with the conversation and he said that yes, yes he was Teddy Lovall's family.

'Lovely boy, your Teddy,' Mendel said. 'A very good customer.' He clapped his hands again and called over his shoulder, 'Minah, help our Judith, will you?'

A woman appeared from a back room and commenced noisily preparing meat. She did not look happy about it. If it came to that, Judith didn't look all that thrilled to be having to deal with her either, which was odd in itself because Jem couldn't ever remember seeing Judith actively out of her element before.

'Honestly,' Jem said to Mendel, who was still at the counter, 'I can wait.' If he didn't know better, the woman, Minah, was mincing lamb with great pointedness. Jem hadn't realised before now that that was possible. Oh, what was he talking about? He'd grown up with Susan Baker. Of course he'd known it was possible. He'd just never witnessed it before.

Mendel began to rattle off Teddy's usual order with gusto. As he spoke he pulled out pieces of meat and began weighing and wrapping them as appropriate. And all the while he went on chatting with Judith and Jem, now about Teddy, now about their gremlins – Jem was shocked to discover he knew the names of the Larkrise contingent – asking here and there about Kitty.

'We are very interested in her column,' he said, while his wife – she must be his wife, Jem thought, reading the body language between them – snorted derision.

'Mama,' said a boy hitherto unnoticed by Jem. He sounded vexed and was busily occupied stocking the shelves with sundry dry goods. He handed Judith a box of salt. The woman – Minah,the butcher had called her – snapped something back in answer. Jem didn't understand it, it not being English, but Judith flinched visibly. It was perhaps the most surreal experience of Jem's life and that took doing. Mother and son went back and forth for a bit in the Not-English, whatever it was, Jem not trying to listen but beginning to feel oddly cold and clammy. The smell of blood wasn't helping. His leg, the bad one, began to seize with pain and he thought any moment he would be back in that terrible camp, the one he'd fought so hard to get out of…how the hell had he ended up back there?

'All right?' said Judith.

Simultaneously, the boy said, 'English, Mama.' She fell silent instead. The boy got off his stepping stool and offered it to Jem. 'Here,' he said. 'You should sit.' Then, awkwardly, his shoulders hunched, 'Sorry about that. Her English – well, hers and Papa's – it's not great. And they forget how it sounds.'

Jem shook his head. He was beginning to realise that whatever-it-was was nothing more than Judith's contribution to the gremlins' patois. Not German, he thought, scrabbling frantically for the name. Inhaling blood. Yiddish. That was it. He was in a Yiddish-speaking butcher's shop because Judith Carlisle had led him there, and if Teddy came here regularly it was probably because he had learned housekeeping at the knee of Judith Carlisle.

The boy handed him a glass of water by way of apology, and Jem sipped at it gingerly. He thought, If that lad doesn't fancy the family business, he might yet become a doctor.

Now Judith was paying for her goods, and Jem got up to see to his, too, but the man said no, no Teddy would take care of that next time he was in. Anything for Teddy's family. And to Judith,

'You must come over Friday evening. Dinner. Join us.'

Behind him Minah was dicing meat with zeal that was frankly terrifying. Judith must have thought so too, because she hastened to say, 'No, please,Mendel. We couldn't impose. Far too many of us for that.'

'But the children!' he cried, jovial as ever. 'It will be good for them! How old is Nesha? She must say a blessing.'

Minah's meat preparations were beginning to verge on the murderous. Jem registered this even while mentally cycling through the rolledex of gremlin names he kept on tab. Who in God's name was Nesha? Ah – Nattie. Wee Iain's Nattie. Of course. But no one had called her that since…another trip through the rolledex. Nothing. Years, anyway. Had they ever called her that? Jem thought it was entirely possible that it was just Nattie's paper name.

'I insist,' the butcher was saying now. Mendel, Jem thought, blearily. He had still not fully recovered from that timeslip of a moment ago. Mendel was speaking. He waved his hands for emphasis. 'Teddy's family too.' Jem couldn't decide if Mendel didn't notice or was just ignoring the devastation being wrought on the meat behind the counter. 'We can't let you go hungry!'

'But – ' began Jem, and then Judith was murmuring in his ear.

'Better not,' she said. 'Inhospitality is the unforgiveable sin. No, really, I'm deadly serious about that. Easier to go with it.'

Jem raised an incredulous eyebrow. The easier option left Judith drawn and twitching while her gremlins eyed the lad restocking the shelves with positive wariness?

But there was no way out. Jem was choking on the smell of blood and Judith was accepting for both of them. That would be lovely, she was saying, they would be sure to tell Geordie and Faith she was saying, bless Mendel for thinking of them, incredibly generous, etc, etc. And then she had linked Jem's arm through hers and was beating a hasty retreat out of the shop. The gremlins scrambled to keep up.

'Easier?' said Jem as they walked. It was more nearly a trot. Gremlin-hampered and all Judith was walking at a clip, heels clacking against the pavement. Every third step was that much harder than the others, Jem noticed.

'Did you see a way out?'

'Well no, but – '

'Tell you what,' she said. 'We'll meet you at Larkrise. And tell Faith not to bring anything.'

'Tell Faith not to what? '

'Just what I've said,' said Judith. 'I've never done you a Shabbes dinner, have I?'

'A what?' said Jem, more baffled by the second.

'No, you see, exactly. I knew I hadn't. Quite frankly, it's not a practice I kept up once I'd married Geordie. Other things…but not that. Which means you won't realise that no one can take any gifts off of you at the door.'

'Right,' said Jem. 'Judith, not to ask a frivolous question, but you obviously want to do anything else in the world, and I have no idea what we've been talked into, so why did you agree to it?'

'I told you. I couldn't see a graceful way out. Anyway, it will all be fine in the event. They've got to be hospitable once we're there.'

'Well all right,' said Jem grudgingly. He was not at all convinced. He peered dubiously into his paper bag and enquired of the contents, 'What was all that about, anyway? She looked furious.'

'Oh, that's easy,' said Judith. 'It's only what my family said from the beginning about Geordie – too old, wrong class, and entirely the wrong religion. How would Cornelia Eliot have taken it if that girl of hers had married a Methodist?'

'Badly,' said Jem. 'Spectacularly badly.'

'There you are then. Families are the same the world over. Now, you are going to tell Faith to dress smartly and be sure to come not bearing gifts. I'm going to do the same. Geordie and I will meet you, with gremlins, at Larkrise, and we'll go from there. Nattie won't be blessing anything, of course. That was utter nonsense. But never mind.'

Jem nodded, dazedly. He hadn't the least idea what Judith was on about and judged it was better not to say so. He jostled her basket and his parcel so they were more comfortably settled against his arm and decided the least he could do was to see her home.

Friday came. Teddy fussed noisily about the kitchen chatting simultaneously murder and early dinner preparations. Kitty was working late and he was determined she come home to a hot meal, even if everyone else was out.

'Reckon rice pudding will be enough, Doc? Or had I better put a casserole on to simmer, do you think? She's got such an impossible appetite to predict… And incidentally, is it true that our body was killed by a snake?'

'Pelorous Choke,' said Jem, feeling unequal to tackling the question of sustenance for Kitty, 'was killed by a venom commonly found in adders, yes.'

'But how on earth,' said Teddy, 'did the unfortunate man get access to an adder?! They don't exactly go walk-about in Kingsport.'

'I was hoping you'd tell me,' said Jem.

Teddy, obviously having opted for the casserole, brandished a cutting board. 'Reckon that's enough onion?' Jem shrugged.

'I expect so. Incidentally, the adder didn't do the biting, I can tell you that, too. Not unless it left syringe marks in Mr Choke's forearms.'

Teddy grimaced. 'Right,' he said. 'Good to know.'

He went on dicing onions, having clearly decided Jem's opinion was not to be trusted, and said, 'And you're quite sure, are you Doc, that we're not to bring anything to dinner?'

'You're as bad as Faith,' said Jem.

Judith had been very clear they not bring anything with them to the house, which made Faith for all her unconvention twitch.

'They're hosting us,' she kept muttering as she fussed with her dress. 'We should bring something.'

'Judith says not,' said Jem, watching lazily as she pinned her hair and deliberated over jewellery.

But sure enough, the Judith that met them at the turn from Larkrise into town was empty-handed, and Geordie too. Jem supposed that if they'd got it wrong they would all go wrong together, but he thought probably they wouldn't; he trusted Judith Carlisle implicitly in such things as social niceties.

Certainly when Mendel met them at the door, he didn't appear to expect any kind of offering. He waved them frantically into the house with all the enthusiasm of the other day.

There was a jumble and confusion as they all scrambled to shuck shoes, and a veritable babble worthy of Old Testament narratives as the gremlins launched into a conversation of such linguistic variability as to make Jem's head spin.

And just like that, everything relaxed. Hospitality was, as Judith had said, not to be trifled with. Where previously they had clustered in colonies, they unknotted as the candles came out and were passed around the women. One was pressed into the hands of a wide-eyed Helen, who tried to shake her head, while yet another passed to a still wider-eyed Nattie. Judith just said, 'You say what I do, Zeeskeit.' Nattie nodded tremulous, and looked smaller than ever snuggled against Helen's blue gingham. Helen nodded likewise, and even managed to decently echo the prayer back at Judith when it became her turn; Gut Shabbes rippling round the room like a susurration of benevolent sprites, or maybe just well-wishes incarnate.

Even Minah seemed to have thawed, though Faith hovered between her and Judith, talking haltingly to her in her imperfect German. How annoyed she'd been, Jem remembered now, to find it stricken from the Redmond Modern Language syllabus, and how deliberately she had taken pains to pick up scraps once in Europe. How, she had written, are we supposed to understand, much less make peace with them, if we can't speak to them, Jem? Now he smiled at the memory, and smiled again at the unselfconscious jabbering of the many gremlins, here in English, there in Yiddish, there again in Gaelic while Mendel's children goggled. Jem hadn't appreciated before just how much or how at home the gremlins were with such linguistic acrobatics, though he supposed he ought to have guessed, and of course the little Gurevitches had enough English to balance the scales. It was the very best kind of babble.

Up at the head of the table silence descended as Mendel stood and raised a glass of wine. There was a scrape of chairs as the others also stood, and Jem followed, taking his cue as much from Judith as Mendel, the gremlins following belatedly, and Sophy last of all. Teddy hefted her into one arm and raised his glass with the other. Across the table he winked at Jem and seemed to ask, Is this so bad, Doc? Jem, half-listening to the blessing, sipping when the others did, had to agree it was lovely. Welcoming, certainly.

There was a bit of confusion afterwards, as people moved to wash their hands in a nearby basin. The gremlins seemed to follow automatically, not, Jem thought because they knew what they were doing, more because they were anxious to be left out.

Faith tilted her head, Come on, so they went after the children. Judith and the Gurevitchs were at home here, and easily led them through what to do, Judith murmuring, 'Don't say anything afterwards until – I'll let you know when. Somehow. Promise.'

So Jem, Faith and Teddy went quiet, though it took the gremlins longer, little chirrups and bursts of sound escaping them in spite of their best efforts. Teddy tried valiantly to keep them in order by judicious shoulder squeezes and a finger to his lips, but, well, they were half Faith Meredith's children, weren't they, Jem thought ruefully. And half his. And when had they ever been good at keeping mum? At least, Jem thought with a smile, the children seemed permitted to sit now. They all were.

A coil of woven bread appeared, and there was a blessing for that too. No, there were two of them. Jem saw that clearly now the cloth had come off and it lay there, plaited and uncovered for all to see. It smelled faintly sweet, and Jem recognised the smell at least; it was part of Judith's rotating baking repertoire, though never so much as this, and never so elaborately wrapped. He watched carefully as pieces were duly torn off and dipped in salt. He did likewise, and caught afterwards the twitch of Judith Carlisle's lips, Now. She really hadn't needed to cue them; the Gurevitch children were off and chattering again directly it was permissible. It was hard not to laugh. Jem looked up the table and saw that Mendel was also laughing; so were the women; everyone was.

They lingered over the bread with songs, all bright, merry-sounding things with words Jem couldn't hope to parse, though Faith tried gamely to join with. So did Helen, but she met with more success than her mother in the attempt. There was a fish course, round and heartily seasoned, and good soup, followed afterwards by rugalach so very definitely Judith's that Faith said in spite of herself, 'I thought you said not to bring anything?'

Judith was unapologetic, even as her brown eyes crinkled mirthfully. 'Not to the door,' she said. 'Not in the evening. No one could have taken it from you, then.'

Faith shook her head and said only, 'Here I thought Martha was strict with her pick-up sticks or bible reading on Sundays! Cards were gambling! We couldn't go past the garden except to church!' She rattled it off again in her self-taught German, which did seem to keep Minah Gurevitch in the loop, and the they were all three laughing again. Minah said something that eluded Faith, but Judith and little Rachel Carlisle translated the words Faith failed to grasp and the laughter redoubled.

'You see?' said Mendel to Jem, 'didn't I tell her this would be good?' He waved a red hand around the table indicating variously the jabbering gremlins, the laughing women, and the remains of the meal. Teddy was dabbing ineffectually at the jam on Sophy's face and fingers, which somehow was nothing on the Gurevitch's youngest. Some things were constants with children, Jem supposed and their propensity for mess and stickiness was clearly one of them. He shook his head good-naturedly.

Somehow, someone – Teddy perhaps – got the gremlins in hand when the blessing was put forward. Christopher said, 'But we said grace!' and Faith opened her mouth, horrified, to admonish him, but their hosts got there first with their obvious amusement.

'We're doubly holy, see?' said the incorrigible Asher of the stock shelves. His mother began to say something to him but Mendel waved it away, laughing heartily. Yes, some things really were the same. Gremlin Mess Magnetism Theory, which stipulated the mess increased twofold proportionate to the number of amassed gremlins, familial dynamics over important dinners…there were probably other things to, and they all defied translation. It was a comforting thought. Jem smiled up the table at Mendel and thought he had been absolutely right. The evening had indeed been good.