THE three of them had barely crossed the threshold when three little girls—the eldest of them could not have been older than six, came romping towards them, delighted at the entrance of visitors. They crowded around Rachel, tugging at her clothes, and she swept up the youngest of them into her arms. Rachel was delighted: these were the first children she and Michael had met, since they left Waknuk.

“Well, the children certainly seem to have taken to you,” laughed Laura. “It’s their bed-time soon, but I’ll let them stay up a bit longer, as a treat. And why don’t you all have supper with us? It’s on the stove now: I can easily put some more in the pot.”

But Peter excused himself, saying he wanted to get back to Samuel, and would dine with him at the inn. He promised to book a room for them at the inn. It would be safe enough, under a false name, and this inn was quite easy-going: no questions would be asked and no demands for Normalcy cards: “You’re Mr and Mrs Smith. Will that do? It used to be a very common name before Tribulation, though it’s rare in present-day Labrador. Will you try to remember that?”

Michael and Rachel nodded. And Benjamin promised to show them the way back to the inn.

“And another thing. How are you for money?” asked Peter. Michael had to admit that they had very little left. Even if it had not been for Beth’s raid on his purse, their cash had barely been enough to hold out during the last leg of their journey. Without Big Rachel’s hunting prowess, they might well have starved before reaching Rigo.

“I’ll lend you some,” promised Peter. “I hope to be getting a decent advance on my book, from Samuel, once we’ve agreed terms. No—don’t argue! You’ve already been a great help to us while you were staying at our place, and I’m really delighted to help you out, there. You can repay me whenever you’re able to—even if it’s not until you’re across the ocean—”

Benjamin’s eyes widened on hearing this. “You’re planning to cross the sea?” he asked.

“Yes they are,” put in Peter. “But they’ll explain later. Thanks a lot: I’ve got to go.” And with a wave, he was off.

After Laura had shoo’d the children off to their own bedroom to play—not without some difficulty!—Benjamin and Laura led the newcomers into the kitchen, where Laura busied herself at the stove, while Benjamin waved to the others to sit around the large table with him. He was about to ask them about their prospective ocean-crossing, but Michael got in first.

“So, what do you do, Benjamin?” Clearly their hosts were not farmers, not in the middle of a big city like this one—and Michael could see no sign of a workshop like the one he’d worked in at Kentak.

“I’m a doctor. I work at the main City hospital. Laura’s currently staying at home looking after the kids, but before they were born, she was working at the same hospital, as a nurse. That’s how we met.”

“A doctor?” put in Rachel. Her concept of doctors was fairly limited: she had this picture of the elderly white-haired man who’d been visiting the house whilst her father was poorly, and had also come to certify Anne’s death. And she also just about remembered, he’d come round when Anne and she were children, ill in bed, taken with the scarlet fever. A very different person from this young man. As to ‘hospital’, the word was almost unknown to her: certainly she’d never seen such a place.

But Michael had. “I’ve been to a hospital: there’s one in Kentak—where we’ve come from. And I was taken there, once, from school, when I had a fever. Looks like three or four houses joined together, with their dividing walls knocked through. And all the rooms full of beds. And a team of old ladies to look after us. I was lucky: most people who get taken there, end up dying there.”

“You’ll find our City hospital a very different place,” said Benjamin. “Our aim is to cure people, not to leave them to die. Of course it doesn’t always work that way. But it’s a large purpose-built building, certainly larger than your Kentak place. I’ll show you around when I’ve got time. And we do lots of things you’ll hardly have heard about. We have surgeons and operating theatres…”

“Theatres?” said Rachel. She was getting more and more bewildered at all this high-level talk: to her the word ‘theatre’ had a very different meaning.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Yes,” replied Benjamin, guessing at her puzzlement. “In this sense ‘theatre’ means a room where we perform operations: cut into people to fix something that’s wrong inside them…”

“Sounds frightful,” commented Rachel.

“But sometimes it’s the best thing to do, to cure them,” continued Benjamin. “There’s lots more I could explain, but now: tell me about yourselves. I’m still curious to know why you’re so bent on taking ship—it’s a dangerous venture at any time, especially now in the winter—”

“Let’s leave that until after supper: it’s just ready,” interrupted Laura from the stove. She called down the children and they all sat around the table, while plates piled high with fish, potatoes and vegetables were handed round. After supper, the children insisted on showing Michael and Rachel their toys and inviting them to play with them—to which Rachel readily agreed; Michael a bit more reluctant­ly, but eventually he caved in, a bit embarrassed, kneeling on the floor and helping the eldest daughter to arrange miniature tables and chairs in her dolls’ house. Eventually, Laura pronounced bed-time and ushered the children, somewhat tearful, out of the kitchen.

“So, once again, what are your plans?” repeated Benjamin.

Michael started to explain. He decided that it was best to be honest, to some extent, with this man. But nevertheless he couldn’t come out with the truth. “We’re on the run—but perhaps you’ve already guessed that. You know something of the Kentak district, and the surrounding area, don’t you?” (he made no mention of Waknuk). “So you know that places like that, out west and close to the Fringes, most of the folks there are in farming families—well, they are very authoritarian, narrow-minded, and prejudiced, compared with Rigo. And they’re absolutely terrified of Mutations—which in any case are a lot more common out there, than they are here. So much so, that anyone who conceals a Mutant—especially a human one—from the authorities faces a lengthy prison sentence. Well, that was our downfall. There was a little girl born thereabouts, who had six toes on each foot. Not much to mark her out, you would think! But, in the insular, bigoted climate of those parts, that was enough to have her classed as a Blasphemy. We shielded her for a while—” (Michael found it easy to transfer David’s childish ‘crime’, to himself). “—but we were found out. We had to run for it.”

As he was recounting this only partly-true story, Michael suddenly remembered how Sophie had told him about the ‘awfully nice doctor, a woman’, to whom she’d been taken as a child to have—no matter what. Were all the doctors in Rigo as ‘nice’ as that one, and Benjamin here, even when they were forced to do something unpleasant? But Benjamin interrupted his thoughts.

“Wouldn’t it have been safe enough for you to settle in these parts?” he asked. “Maybe not in Rigo itself—you’re clearly not city folk—but in one of the nearby villages? You could get taken on as farm-hands—until you’ve saved up enough to buy a farm for yourselves.”

“Yes, we thought of that,” said Michael, carefully. “But we were being pursued almost as far as Rigo itself. Why they’re so deter­mined to come after us, I don’t know: perhaps they think we’re sheltering other Blasphemies. And our pursuers are farming folk, themselves: the first thing they’d think of, was to search out the farms in the area. And besides, we’ve both got an urge to see the world. That means going to sea. Maybe even that far-off land where your grandparents originally came from.” Benjamin smiled at this. “Or elsewhere: the world’s a big place. Even bigger than we’d thought, from what your father told us.”

“Hmmm… a bit risky, I’d say. You’re both very young, and a bit headstrong: I’d advise against it. But if you’re absolutely deter­mined, you’ll need to get taken on board ship. I can show you where, in Rigo, to go and make enquiries. But not tonight! I’m on duty early tomorrow morning: I’ve just got time to show you round parts of the city, and then back to your inn. I’ll be back home late tomorrow afternoon: call round then.”

Bidding good-night to Laura, Michael and Rachel went out with Benjamin into the street, now lit by numerous oil-lamps set on pillars. He was a good guide: the first place he led them to was the hospital: an imposing building, far bigger than anything even Michael had come across in Kentak. Benjamin took them briefly on a tour inside, but they could take in little of the place: the strange smells and the long network of corridors, all neatly whitewashed, were all too bewildering. Then they went on past the ‘university’—a sort of big ‘school’ for older pupils, Benjamin explained, far vaster than the building in which Michael had received his schooling. Then there was the cathedral, magnificent even at night, beside which Waknuk’s modest little church—and even the church in which Michael and Rachel had got ‘married’—would have seemed mere huts. Eventually the found themselves back outside the inn.

“Well, I’ve got to be getting back. Good-night to you both.” And with that Benjamin took leave of them.

Michael and Rachel—or ‘Mr and Mrs Smith’ as they now were—had no trouble checking into the inn: the landlord recognised them from their visit earlier in the day, and, without asking any questions, he showed them to their room, explaining that their friend Peter had already retired for the night. Leaving them with a lit candle, he bade them good night. The room seemed fairly comfortable and airy, not over-furnished, but with a large bed, a wash-stand, and a table with a couple of chairs. Being very tired, they fell asleep almost as soon as they climbed into the bed.