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"She didn't want us to know anything about the Order! That's why she dismissed Miss Moore," Pippa says. "Perhaps Mrs. Nightwing has something to hide."
"Or perhaps she doesn't know anything about it," Ann says. Mrs. Nightwing has been the only mother she's ever known. I know what it is to have that certainty about someone you love taken from you.
"Mrs. Nightwing was a teacher at Spence when Sarah and Mary were there. What if she's been helping Sarah all the while, waiting for a time when she could return?" Felicity says.
"I d-don't like this talk," Ann stammers.
"What if-"
"Fee," I interrupt, giving a quick sideways glance to Ann. "I think for now we'd best be about finding the Temple. Nell Hawkins said we should look for a path. Have you seen any path round here, Pip?" I ask. Pip gives me a quizzical look."Who is Nell Hawkins?"
"A lunatic at Bedlam," Ann answers. "Gemma thinks she knows where to find the Temple. "
Pippa laughs."You're joking!"
"No," I say, going red."Have you seen a path?"
"Hundreds. What sort of path are we looking for?"
"I don't know. The true path. That was all she said."
"That's not much help," Pippa says, sighing. "There is one that leads out from the garden that I've not taken yet."
"Show me," I say.
The one she speaks of is but a narrow lane that seems to disappear in a wall of leafy green. It is slow and arduous. With each step, we've got to push aside the broad leaves and fat beige stalks that leave thin ribbons of sap on our hands till we're sticky as treacle.
"What a chore," Pippa moans. "I hope this is the right way. I'd hate to think we've done all this work for nothing."
A stalk hits me square in the face.
"What did you say?" Felicity asks.
"Me? I've said nothing," I answer.
"I heard voices."
We stop. I hear it too. Something's moving in the heavy thicket. Suddenly, it seems a bad idea to have come this way without knowing a thing about it. I put out a hand to stop my friends. Felicity reaches for an arrow. We're tight as piano strings.
A pair of eyes appears between the fronds of the palm tree.
"Hello? Who's there?" I ask.
"Have you come to help us?" a soft voice asks. A young woman steps out from behind the tree, making us gasp. The right side of her body is horribly burned. Her hand is gone to the bone. She sees the shock on our faces and tries to cover herself with what's left of her shawl. "It was a fire at the factory, miss. Went up like a tinderbox, and we couldn't get out in time," she answers.
"We?" I ask, when I find my voice again.
Behind her in the jungle growth are perhaps a dozen or so young girls, many of them burned, all of them dead.
"Those of us who couldn't get out. Fire got some; some jumped and the fall got 'em," she says, matter-of-factly.
"How long have you been here?" I ask.
"Can't rightly say," she answers."Feels like forever."
"When was the fire?" Pippa asks.
"Third of December 1895, miss. Lot of wind that day, I recall." They've been here about two weeks, less time than Pippa. "I've seen you before, miss," she says, nodding to Pippa. "You and yer gen'leman."
