The John Radcliffe Hospital, Oxford

Jack Farrell has come out of post-operative intensive care and is now on a general surgical ward.  He is sitting up in bed and watching the TV when Dr Parry comes round to see him.

He has a few questions – when will he be able to leave hospital, will his arm be OK – and Dr Parry is able to reassure him that everything is going well.  Jack points to his arm.

'How long will I have to carry this around with me?'

There is a plastic sleeve over the place where his arm has been sewn back on.  It's called the Frankenstein Collar and it isolates the area where the nanotechs are hard at work, invisibly splicing together the severed nerves and muscle fibres.

'Another week or two.  Then the collar can come off and you'll be wearing an ordinary sling and plaster cast for a month or six weeks.  After that, I don't suppose your mother will be able to tell what's happened.'

'Or see the join.'  They laugh.

Two visitors arrive for Jack; a man and a woman.  His whole demeanour changes – he becomes anxious and less relaxed.

'Jack!' says the woman, and 'Thank you, Doctor,' from the man, dismissing Will.

Will walks thoughtfully down the middle of the ward towards the corridor beyond.  Those were the people who brought Jack in to A&E last Saturday.  Now; where has he seen them before?

The Botanic Garden, Oxford

Beyond the entrance to the Botanic Garden, where the tourists cluster around the greenhouses and the exhibition plants, there is an open grassy area, dotted with shrubs, which runs down to the river Isis.  In the middle of this area, discreetly preserved from all change and alteration by order of the Master of Jordan College, there is a tree with low-hanging branches, and by it a bench, which is subject to the same strict policy of immutability.

Lyra sits on the bench – on her side – and takes the alethiometer out of the pouch which she always carries attached to a silken cord around her waist.  It glitters golden in the spring sunshine.

'You haven't got all the books with you.'

Even now, after all these years, she can't help thinking I never used to need the books.

'I'll see how far I can get without the books, Pan.'

There is no shame in using the books to decode the cryptic oracle of the alethiometer.  No shame at all; except that she is Lyra Belacqua, who once taught herself to read the alethiometer with no effort, who had once been able to read it instinctively, by the power of grace.  That grace which had been taken from her, along with so much else, in the dunes by the sea in the world of the Mulefa.  The ladders of meaning, which she had once skipped lightly up and down, flitting from rung to rung, speaking to the instrument directly, are now a steep and endless staircase, which she toils to climb, from which she readily falls, losing the chain of semantic connections and returning to the place from which she started, angry and frustrated.

She thinks Will – but that is not at all the right place to start.  She cannot hope to make a successful reading if her mind is clouded by thoughts of Will.  She needs another connection, or signifier, for the Knife.  She chooses the Dolphin – for the Knife came from Cittagazze, the beautiful, decaying city by the sea.

Near Cittagazze

Giancarlo is woken late in the day, by the sun shining through a crack in the wall near to where he and his sister lie in the roof space of Marco and Sophia's cottage.  He sits up, feeling the stiff muscles in his legs, and clambers cautiously across the rafters to the gap in the floor and the ladder which leads down to the ground.  Sophia is there, but there is no sign of Marco.

Sophia wishes him bongiorno, and offers him goat's milk and bread.  Giancarlo eats and drinks gratefully.

'Your sister; she sleeps still?'

'Yes.  I will wake her soon.'

'We must talk first.  It is very important.'

'Why?'

'I will tell you.  First, tell me, is little Guilietta really your sister?'

'You mean, do we have the same parents?  No, my father adopted her.  Her mother… died.  You know.'

A pause.

'But she is your sister, just the same.'

'Yes, of course.'

'And you love each other.'

'Yes, of course.'

Sophia sighs.

'Of course.  Carlo, I must tell you that some men came to the house last night.  I think they were looking for you and Guili.'

'You didn't tell them about us?'

'No.  No, we didn't.  They were men from Ci'gazze and the east, and we have no regard for them.  It was fortunate that you and Guili were sleeping quietly above.

'Carlo, I have to tell you, and it shames me to say this, but I do not think that you can stay much longer.  Marco… we are poor, and they offered money, and I could see what he was thinking.  He left the house early this morning…'

Giancarlo rests his hand on hers.

'Mother, you have already helped us much more than we deserve.  I would not bring any more sorrow on this house than I have already.  Guili and I will go as soon as we can.'  And he turns to the ladder which leads to the roof.  Sophia stops him.

'Carlo, would you let me wake her again?  For Maria's sake?'

The lost daughter.  'Yes, Mother.'  And he steps outside the cottage and waits while Sophia slowly climbs the ladder to the roof and crouches looking at the sleeping Guilietta, who so closely resembles her own child. She stirs and looks up at Sophia, waking, and the beauty of her smile stabs Sophia's soul, wounding and healing her both.

'Mama!'

'My child!'

Outside, Giancarlo reflects on the Knife, how the Spectres that it let into the worlds from the outer darkness blighted so many lives, and he tries, and fails, to shake off the feeling that at least some of the blame for this rests on him.

Remiel and I, we used the Knife only for good, only to save lives, to bring the Exiles home and restore balance to the worlds.  Those people would have died if we had not sought them out and rescued them, taking them back to their home worlds.

Sophia and Guilietta come down the ladder together and join Giancarlo outside.  Guilietta is wearing some old clothes and shoes which Sophia has given her and which must, at one time, have belonged to Maria.

'You should go soon.'  Guilietta looks up to Giancarlo.

'Can't we stay?  I like it here.'

'I'm sorry, sweetheart.  We would if we could.'  To Sophia:  'Where should we go?'

'Go north.  Go to the sea, to Siemione.  There you will find boats, and fishermen, who will take you away from here.  Look for a man called Demio – he is my cousin and will help you.

'Now, go!'  She gives Guilietta a drink of milk and a bread roll and hands a package to Giancarlo.  'There is bread and wine here.  Please, go!'

Sophia points north, to a gap in the hills.  'Over the pass and down to the sea.  There you will find Siemione and Demio.'

Giancarlo and Sophia kiss, and the woman clasps Guilietta longingly to herself for a minute or two.  Then they leave, and do not look back.

Marco will beat her when he discovers what she has done, thinks Giancarlo.  And Guilietta says, 'She was nice.  I wish we didn't have to leave so soon.' 

'So do I, sweetheart.  So do I.'

Oxford

'Episode Ten?  I didn't think you were a Star Wars fan!'

Oh no!  I've blown it!

'We could see something else if you like.'

Will turns to Judy, whose suggestion, while they were standing by the coffee machine, that they go out to see a film has come as a complete surprise to him.  Staff Nurse Beckley; not exactly pretty, but nice-looking.  More to her, somehow, than the other girls he's taken out.  A certain look in her eyes, like… No, not really.  Still, yes, he'd like to go and see a film with Judy, and he says so.

'Episode Ten would be fine.'

Up yours, Miriam!  'See you tonight?  By the main gate?'

'Sorry, no.  I'm on call tonight.  Would Wednesday be OK?'

Damn!  I should have known that.  'Great! Wednesday it is!'

'And may the Force be with you.'

'Live long and prosper.'

'That's Star Trek!'

Oops!  'Sorry…'

'Don't be.  And don't worry – I'm not a Trekkie.'

'That's a relief.'

'Bye now.'

'See you.'

Result!  Judy walks home with a certain spring in her step.  How is she to know what a simple date may lead to?