She had been given specific instructions not to trust anyone from her world who didn't know either of their "real names". The irony being that these were the nicknames they had given one another a long time ago when they were young. When, at that age, Philippa recognized they shared last names related to plants and green, growing things. They had built a sort of club with an exclusive, lifetime membership of only two. To get into this club, the only qualifications were that you had to be one of them and your favorite children's radio program had to be White Roses. This made membership easy. She had once been called Petal and her best friend, Tulip. And when they were much older and Tulip had told her, don't trust any of us, not even me, unless they know your real name Petal understood in a deep place and it made her sick to think that there would ever be a need for those names to be referenced and especially in this way. All of this was really happening and, of all of the trouble they had found themselves in over the years, that this was the most real, that one of them may never hear the other's voice or see the other ever again and it would be both a relief and a horror. The family down the street that had disappeared in the papers? That was us, Tulip said. It wasn't you, Petal said. What sat in the air between them was the rest of her question, was it? Was it you? Did you, specifically have anything to do with them? No, it wasn't me, me but it was us. Dorcas said out loud because they had known each other that long and they could have had this entire conversation silently and often did. One or the other would answer questions that hadn't been asked a loud disarming anyone in earshot. The conversation would become silent again neither of them realizing the conversation wasn't being spoken out loud in the first place.

She had not noticed him behind her for almost two blocks now, which is not to say she didn't sense him, but she had felt like this on and off for months now in varying degrees and it was much better than it had been now. She had half a mind to turn around and that same moment she heard, not just her name but, two of them. The first time he had called her by her common nickname. Everyone knew she had called her that and she knew not to turn around but, did anyway. She found a tall man just off the sidewalk directly behind her closer than his voice had sounded. She impressed herself. She knew she did not look as startled as she felt. She turned around as if by coincidence, as if she had just turned around at any number of noises in the street and not her own name but her steps slowed conscious of the very real danger of this man who had magic or not. She squared her hips, laced her keys in her fingers and, if necessary, she would stand at her own door and knock, call up to someone who wasn't there and turn around as she had rehearsed in her mind, two times, nine times, thirty times, a hundred times until it looped on itself, tying into a knot. And yet here she was becoming more scared now as she had been then and it was the recognition and blooming fear she felt on her face that she had not practiced or adjusted for. She did not account for remembering. It was that same fear that told the man that he identified the correct woman even as she walked up the steps to her own home. He repeated in a slightly more confident but not threatening way, excuse me, Petal? And if she had understood what happened then, she would also remember that she had turned around and gone down the steps almost floating and even shook the man's hand and that she had made it up the steps again and unlocked her own door and almost ushered that very man through the door until she came back to her senses at the very last moment over the threshold with her hand on the doorknob and her body angled in such a way that she could have slammed the door shut right on his face.

Grandpa, Philippa and Dorcas sat at the table with tea. Philippa's shoulders drooped as she warmed her hands on the tea cup. Lupin kept quiet vigil with his arms crossed pacing in the small kitchen.
"What did he look like again?" He repeated.
Dorcas didn't like the way Philippa looked.
"That's enough questions for the evening. May I please speak with you in private?"

Dorcas's chair scraped the floor that startled none of them. She pulled him into the hallway and glanced over her shoulder to see that Philippa still hadn't moved. She was watching her tea get cold. Grandpa nearly oblivious to the entire scene with a faint smile on his quiet old, sweet face. She turned around completely and told her friend she would be right here, just off to the side and that, in fact, since it was so late that she would spend the night. Lupin started to make an objection and stopped himself. He too, would spend the night. If Dorcas had still been sitting across from her Philippa, she would have seen her close her eyes. From where they stood, Lupin could see past Dorcas's shoulder. Phillipa exhaled deeply, wrapped her hands around the teacup and brought it to her lips to drink.

Philippa trusted her friend then and honored what she had been told. She let the man into her house because he had called her by her real name. He sat at the kitchen table and she made him tea. She would be getting the news finally of what had happened or at least confirmation for what she knew, what she had known all along.

"Your friend, she's gone. She has died".

She knew that. She had not been prepared to finally have those words spoken out loud by a stranger but, she knew. The man was a little confused to notice her reaction.

Still, she said, a sense of formality in her tone "Thank you for letting me know".

He had understood that they had been very close. He decided against telling her what had happened unless she asked. She decided that she did not need to know the details. When it had happened, how. It was all the same now.

"Your home is very cozy." The man said looking around the flat.

"It is." She said looking directly at him.

It was time for him to go but there was something bothering him and she could tell, maybe he wanted to tell her more. She could tell he was determining what to say and how to say it even as he started speaking .

"I don't want to know".

He smiled more to himself. "I don't want to give you any more information than you would like to know or that would take away your peace."

"Thank you."

"If I could ask you? I would like to know one thing."

That evening when she had been sent away, she had been given a long list of instructions. Her going away bag was now several times smaller than when she had packed it herself. She was given instructions on who she could and could not and should not speak to and how to tell all of these people apart but not when the danger would pass. She was not told when and how she would know when the threat lifted and when she could go home or if she ever could. She knew that this was for her own safety. She had reasoned that maybe she would be told by one of these many people. But she knew also that if anything were to ever happen to Dorcas… She understood people's priorities. She understood that she may not be one of those priorities with her friend gone. Many people had however tried to find Philippa precisely for that reason, because they were friends. As it turned out many more people considered Dorcas a friend and that they too honored their friend's instructions.