Alek was looking for a church in Glasgow. It was the anniversary of his parents' death, and he wanted to light candles. He soon found a gloomy old building, "Our Eternal Lady of Glasgow, est. 1791." A young woman was sweeping snow off the steps while a little girl who must be her daughter sat sullenly by a display of candles, holding a collecting tin in her lap. She looked like she was itching to play in the snow, but she was making paper flowers out of colorful bits of paper. Some kind of canine beastie was tied to the railing.
"Sir, want to buy a candle for rememberance?" the girl intoned in a learned-by-heart voice. She was Irish, or maybe Scottish. "All proceeds go to Our Lady of Glasgow."
"Two, thank you."
"Ha'penny." She handed him the candles.
He gave her the coin and headed up the steps.
"Who d'you know who died?" she said, her face curious. Her mother whirled around. Angry scars disfigured her once-pretty face, and her blue eyes were fogged and sightless.
"Abby!" she said, scandalized. "Don't ask someone that!"
"Why not?" The child muttered to Alek in a conspiratorial tone, so he had to bend down to hear her, "My grandda and grandmam died on this day. Also, I think my mam killed my da, but I'm not supposed to know that." Abby giggled. "But I think that's good." What a morbid little girl. She must be about nine.
"It's good?"
"Uh-huh. He never met me, he didn't know I'm real. So maybe he thought I was pretend? But Mam says he was a good man."
"Then why would she kill him?"
"Because! Because! He was missing! She told me he was captured by Clankers. But I think she killed him." Alek nodded warily and tried to pull open the door of the church.
"Locked." said the mother. "We open up at half past seven." She looked very young, around his age. Who was this woman? Obviously not a nun, if she had a child. "D.S. Barlow, caretaker," she said, extending a hand in his direction. It was calloused, like a man's.
"Pleasure to meet you," he said, whipping off his hat. "I knew a woman of the same name," Alek continued.
"Mam was scared the Clankers would get me," Abby said in a stage whisper. "So she changed it from-"
"This is my daughter," Miss Barlow said, hastily cutting her daughter off. "Introduce yourself, prinzessin." The girl frowned at the German pet name, but complied.
Curtseying, she said, "Abigail J. Barlow, pleased to meet you." Alek bowed solemnly. She leaned in and whispered something to her mother, who nodded and gave him a clumsily made paper flower. Alek carefully tucked it in his pocket while Abby and Miss Barlow beamed.
"Please, have some tea. We have half an hour," the woman said. She deftly climbed the icy stairs, using her broom as a probe. Alek stuttered his thanks as she produced a key from one of her many pockets.
"Is this the right one? Can you put in in the keyhole for me, love?"
"Yes, Mam!"
She opened the door while Abby darted impatiently underfoot, tripping over her mother, who consequently tripped over her.
Inside the church, it was quiet, illuminated by the dim glow of bioluminescent lanterns. There were many candles and a charming excess of paper flowers. Miss Barlow carefully arranged the paper flowers at the feet of the statue of Mary, feeling for a poppy to place in her wooden hand. Her daughter ran down the aisles, through a little door, and up a narrow staircase, hollering, "I'm a cheetahesque! I'm a cheetahesque!"
"Don't break the mugs again!" her mother called. There was instantly a tinkling crash and a scream. Miss Barlow swore and tore up the staircase, yelling, "I'll get the peroxide!"
Alek seized the brief silence to light his candles, muttering a prayer. By the time he was finished, little Abigail and her mother had sat down on one of the pews. Miss Barlow held a tray that was laden with steaming mugs.
"I didn't cry," Abby whispered. "I was very brave, like when I punched that Stevens boy for calling Mam a cripple." Her mother nodded calmly, inhaling the floral aroma of the tea. "Mam, do we have any sugar?"
"We're running low, but you and our guest can have some." The little girl carefully stirred a spoonful in, spilling a good half of the tea, then passed it to Alek. She then made herself a cup.
"I shall have a tea party, like a real prinzessin." She sat on the floor in front of the statue, offering it an imaginary teacup. "Yes, Our Lady, I am fine, thank you. Would you like some tea biscuits? Oh, yes, yes, the politics, life threads and the veterans, very interesting indeed. You know, my father was King of the Fairies? Yes, I am the fairy princess. Thank you for noticing."
"King of the fairies, eh?." Miss Barlow muttered. "At least she knows her science. Her da was always providence this and destiny that, may he rest in peace."
"Pardon me for asking, but what happened to your husband?"
"Missing, presumed dead. Not my husband- we never married. Why, we were very young. I was only a teenager when Abby was born. She got his lovely eyes, the nuns tell me. Green."
"I'm so sorry."
She changed the subject hastily. "You don't sound English."
"You're right. I'm Austrian. Speaking of Austrian, why do you call your daughter a German name?"
"It's a long story."
"Hmm." For a while, they listened as Abby chattered, now debating the ethics of fabrication.
"So what brings you to Scotland? Business?"
"Well, partly. I'm a mechanik, and I was sent to buy engines. Also, my sweetheart lived here, but she was in electrikal accident. I've been trying to find her grave."
"There are a lot of people in Glasglow, but I can try and get the word out. What was her name?"
"Deryn Sharp."
The mug fell out of her hands with a crash, cutting her arms. Miss Barlow appeared to not have noticed.
"I'll get the peroxide!" Abby called, pausing her tea party with Mary, whose painted eyes gazed wistfully.
"Alek...?"
What mad providence was this?
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In case you didn't get it, Alek and Deryn were in an accident, and they both thought the other was dead. Alek was captured by Germans, which I don't mention. When they find out he's no longer heir, they release him in exchange for political prisoners. Meanwhile, Deryn thinks Abigail is next in line, so she changes their names. And yes, the "J" in Abigail J. Barlow stands for Jaspert.