THE preparations for visiting Mark’s mother took a few days. Stephanie, especially, did not want to leave Martha in Kentak (although Adrian and Jack were quite willing to accommodate her); besides: Martha, having endured a week’s separation from her daughter only days after their reunion, flatly refused to be parted from her again, any time soon. Since Martha could not ride, Mark had to search all around Kentak for a suitable carriage they could hire. He had no success until he thought of asking the old priest. The latter thought for a while, and then mentioned one of his flock who kept a livery stable and might have a carriage for hire. Mark went to the stables and managed to secure a week’s hire of a two-wheeled gover­ness cart drawn by one horse, which he thought would be adequate to convey the three of them to his mother’s farm and back again.

Mark was painfully aware that his reserves of cash were fast diminishing, with all this expense. Oh well, they’d have to address that problem when it came.

It was a dreary, overcast, and chilly day with a slight fall of sleet when they set out early in the morning, but Mark felt they could not delay any longer. Martha was well wrapped up in a large cloak but still seemed to be feeling the cold; however, she responded to all Stephanie’s enquiries with “I’m quite all right.”

Although Mark had originally wanted to cut across country to his farm, following rough tracks which he was familiar with, he knew this would be impossible with the cart. So they had no option but to travel via Waknuk—with all the danger that posed. There was little risk that Martha would be recognised, and Stephanie had shown herself very little during her stay at Rachel’s farm—but Mark might well be noticed by an acquaintance. He pulled a thick woollen hat well down over his brow and wrapped his face in a scarf as he drove, and hoped for the best. They should reach his mother’s farm before nightfall, if all went well.

As they approached the familiar farmland surrounding Waknuk, Mark surveyed the fields on either side with his farmer’s eyes. Most had been ploughed and winter crops already sown, so he guessed that Waknuk was still prospering. They passed by the Strorms’ farm, now owned by Angus Morton, and showing signs of new buildings going up, and were drawing near to what had been Rachel’s farm—also sold now—when they saw a horseman riding towards them.

Mark nodded and gave a brief ‘good morning’ as they passed, but the man gazed intently into the carriage, apparently with some curiosity, before riding on. They had only passed him by some hundred yards when he reined in his horse and abruptly turned around. Stephanie turned to Mark in a sudden panic.

“It’s the Inspector! The Inspector for Waknuk. I’m sure of it. And I think he’s recognised one of us. Oh no! what are we going to do?”

“Whatever we do, we can’t outrun him,” said Mark. “Not in this cart at any rate. Try to look inconspicuous, both of you, if you can: don’t look towards him. I’ll do the talking. Maybe I can bluff our way out.” He reined in the horse.

In a few seconds the Inspector was alongside them and had dis­mounted. All of them now recognised him, although he appeared to have aged several years in the past few months. He was stooped and his hair was greying. Mark was starting to ask him what was his business, but the Inspector ignored him. Instead he was closely scrutinising the two female occupants, for all they could do to avoid his gaze. In a little while a smug, satisfied smile spread across his face.

“Well—if I’m not mistaken, it’s Mrs Wender, isn’t it? And—can it possibly be your little Sophie next to you? Sophie, but all grown up?—no, don’t try to hide your face, my dear, I’m sure I’m not wrong: I recognise you. You do look so like your mother…”

The three of them were frozen, too terrified to speak.

“Well, well, we’re going to have to have a little chat, aren’t we? Could you please follow me.”

Mark knew that it was useless to try and evade the Inspector. With a heavy heart he turned the cart around and followed the Inspector. Stephanie and Martha were now both in tears, clutching each other. Probably for the best, thought Mark: better than them going into a blind panic and trying to flee.

Once at the Inspector’s house, they were shown into his office and asked to sit down in front of his desk. Stephanie had calmed down a bit, but Martha began to scream out incoherently: that he had no right to detain them in this way, that she had done her time, that they were only passing through Waknuk anyway—but the Inspector gently hushed her. Once she had stopped sobbing, he began to state his case:

“Please, listen, there’s no need to panic. You present me with a strange dilemma. Please calm down all of you, and let me explain. My job, as you know, is to enforce the Law as regards Deviations—and I like to believe I’ve been fulfilling my duty conscientiously, for the fifteen years I’ve been in this office. Indeed, the Deviation rate in Waknuk, with a few exceptions, has been improving steadily, year on year, during my time here. But there’s still a lot of resentment from local folk.

“I expect you heard about the terrible disaster that befell this district last year, when we lost so many of our best men. The story must have gone all over Labrador. Out on a sortie into Fringes territory, massacred by Fringes folk, as I understand it. Sophie, perhaps you can tell me more?”

“I heard about it,” said Stephanie, hesitantly. “I wasn’t involved, though. And my name's not Sophie, it's Stephanie.”

“All right, but I'll continue to call you Sophie, if you please. So, in that case, perhaps you can tell me how you come to be here, and not in the Fringes. Because, if you’ll forgive me, you don’t look in the least like a Fringes dweller—and I’ve come across many of those, fugitives trying to escape to civilised parts. If I hadn’t recognised you, Mrs Wender, I’d never have believed it was Sophie. So how about a little explanation?”

Stolen novel; please report.

Mark had already been silently preparing his answer while the Inspector was talking, and he now cut in quickly, hoping that Stephanie wouldn’t interrupt. “I met her whilst I was on a hunting trip. I live to the northwest of here, not far from Wild country. And I’d gone quite a long way out west when I ran into her. She was out hunting too—on foot. She’d strayed quite a long way from the Fringes, and had got lost.” As he said this, Mark watched Stephanie out of the corner of his eye, and she gave a brief nod. “Anyway, I took her up and she more or less stayed with me after that. And now we’re planning to get married.”

“Married, is it? Well well well! But you did undergo your sterilisation, before being dropped in the fringes, Sophie? Unless the information they passed on to me from Kentak and Rigo was incorrect?”

“Yes, I did,” muttered Stephanie, with an anguished look on her face.

“So, I must consider, what am I going to do?” continued the Inspector. “My job is to root out Deviations when they’re first discovered, and make sure they’re properly dealt with. You have been dealt with, Sophie, as far as I’m concerned. The Law doesn’t say anything about what to do with returned Fringes dwellers, provided they don’t rob civilised folk or otherwise make a nuisance of them­selves. Indeed I’ve never heard of a case like this, where someone from the Fringes has acquired the look of a civilised person once again. And the fact that you’re planning to get married, to a civilised husband too, stands in your favour.

“If I were to take action against you, there’s no precedent: I’d first have to seek advice from my superiors in Rigo. Quite frankly, I’m not minded to do that. I may get into trouble from some quarters, but I’ve lived with that for a long time. Especially with Strorm… And some things that have happened! Like a case in a neighbouring district last year: two young women, not much older than you, Sophie. And connected with that, a case of arson, an entire farm burnt down. The police were sent for, from Rigo. I won’t go into details, but there was a lot of bad feeling after that—from people on both sides of the argument. Some of it directed against me. I got some nasty letters. I’ve been feeling uncomfortable, I’m not shy of admitting to you. Beset on all sides.

“So I think I’m going to let you go: send you on your way. It may be the wrong decision for me, but there it is, I’m doing it with a clear conscience. You’ve had your ‘treatment’, Sophie—and you’ve served out your sentence, Mrs Wender, along with your husband. Where is he, by the way?”

“He died, soon after leaving gaol,” said Stephanie, laconically.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” continued the Inspector. “Yes, I know he committed a serious offence, as did you, Mrs Wender. But I’m still truly sorry to hear about that. And after he served out his sentence, too! Anyway, my conclusion is to forget this meeting ever took place—and to ask you to leave Waknuk as soon as possible, and not to come here again. I want you as far away from my district as possible. If someone were to find out about you, Sophie, I’d get the blame.”

“We weren’t planning to stay in Waknuk, anyway,” said Mark, taking up the story once again. “We’re heading for my mother’s farm which is about nine miles away—and I hope we can still reach there before it gets dark. But we shall have to pass through Waknuk on our return.”

“All right then—but don’t linger if you pass this way, and don’t let me see you again.” With that, the Inspector bade them farewell and they once again set out in the cart.

Once they were out of earshot, Mark let out a long sigh. “Well, would you believe it? He’s not the Inspector of old, is he? Times must have hit him really hard. I’d have thought, with Strorm gone, he’d have an easier time. David told us all about the rows they used to have.”

“He was talking about Sally and Katherine, wasn’t he?” said Stephanie. “When he mentioned those ‘two young women’. The ones who were caught, and who Michael went looking for. You told me all about them. Are we still thinking they’re dead?”

“I think we are,” said Mark, sadly. “Michael was fairly certain of it. I’m surprised the Inspector brought up that affair—even though he stopped himself before saying too much! But it’s a comfort to know, other people, not just us, were upset about what happened. Things may be changing—especially with old Strorm out of the picture. And I think our Inspector is changing his attitude too. He certainly seems more communicative.

“But I’m wondering. Should we be trusting this ‘new’ Inspector? Is this more friendly, more conciliatory attitude a front—could he be deceiving us, setting a trap? He might be having us followed: hoping we’ll lead him onto something. Some ‘suspicious’ people perhaps. We’d better be careful: better not trust him blindly. And I think we need to exercise caution when we return this way.”

“I agree,” replied Stephanie. “But he seemed pretty genuine. And things may indeed be changing all across Labrador,” she added, with a smile on her face. “Did Adrian tell you about there being a woman in charge of the Government, over in Rigo?”

“A woman?” exclaimed Martha, breaking her silence for the first time. “Surely that can’t be—it’s never woman’s work, that!”

“Well, it is, Mother. Things are changing, and time you got used to it.”

With that, the conversation lapsed. The weather had improved: it was now dry and fairly warm, and they made good progress without further incident. It was just beginning to get dark, and colder again, when Mark’s farm, which stood in an isolated position right on the edge of a large forest, loomed up before them.

As they drew their cart to a halt in the yard and alighted, a young man appeared with a lantern: one of Mark’s brothers-in-law. Upon recognising Mark, he called into the farmhouse for Mark’s mother to come out. In a minute she emerged, wrapped in a shawl, a very short, somewhat plump dark-haired woman in her late fifties. On seeing Mark, she smiled broadly and embraced him in a tight hug.

“Oh, Mark,” she exclaimed, “how nice of you to call on us. I’d been expecting you to be away for months. And how are you? Are you quite well? But come in, come into the warm. And your friends too…”

“I’m sorry, Mother, I should have introduced you. This is Stephanie—I’ve told you about her, of course. Used to help out at Amelia’s farm. And this is her mother, Martha.”

“Pleased to meet you, Stephanie and Martha. Oh, call me Margaret please! No formalities here.” With that, they were soon seated round the fire in the big farm kitchen.