IN KENTAK, Michael had found two of his old school-friends, without difficulty, and it was his great fortune that they had just rented a flat and were looking for a third to share the rent. Michael gladly accepted, and being handy with tools he soon found work as a carpenter. He communicated with Rachel daily, but at her suggestion they only used thought-shapes at night, when they were both in bed. He also wrote her frequent letters—pointless perhaps, but only to allay suspicion. Rachel reported that Mark was still making eyes at Stephanie, but making little progress: she was firm in her resolve that “he was a nice boy” and that was that. Since she was still sharing Rachel’s room, whilst Mark, when he slept over, was in Anne’s old room, he couldn’t press things any further, even if she’d let him.

Michael only visited Waknuk occasionally: it would seem odd if he didn’t. His parents seemed reconciled to the fact that he was regularly seeing Rachel. It seemed that, having refused to allow the marriage mainly to protect Rachel from possible harm, his father was now softening his stance. But Michael did not plan to disobey him, not unless…

In November came the sad news that Rachel’s father had finally passed away. Amelia was philosophical about it: she said that he had been a fine man until cruelly struck down by his elder daughter’s death, and his passing was a ‘release’—that was the word she used. Michael agreed to come over at once for the funeral, and his parents came too. Mark was still helping out at the farm, and enjoying his work, having perhaps accepted the fact that Stephanie wasn’t to be his.

Stephanie’s attractiveness had blossomed in the meantime: there was little of the Fringes coarseness left in her features, indeed she was now living up to her promise of turning into a little beauty. Several of the local young men had indeed noticed her, but she repulsed them all with quiet tact. What she proposed to do for herself in the future, it was hard to tell. When he saw her again, Michael was astonished at the change in her. He remembered how she had said, at the Wild Country farm, that “I want to find a man who can love me for what I am: a man somewhere in Labrador”. Well, clearly none of the men who had approached her, so far, fit the criteria for that man. She could indeed afford to be choosy…

And of course there was the question of her toes. She couldn’t possibly be really intimate with any strange boy who wasn’t ‘in the know’. Any suitor would have to be very carefully sounded out.

Also at the funeral were Mary and Sarah, David’s elder sisters, and Angus Morton and his wife and sons. Michael took care to avoid them, especially Angus, but since he was there with his parents, he though he would be able to avoid suspicion. However he was not quite careful enough. As he was leaving Waknuk church (the service having been conducted by a visiting preacher), he felt a light touch on his shoulder. It was Mary. She drew him to one side.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you,” she whispered. “You were in the raiding party that went after David and Petra.”

Michael said nothing. But he noticed that there were tears in her eyes.

“I know my father’s dead. He would have got in touch by now. I know many others are also dead. What I want to know is, are David and Petra safe?”

She said this with such urgency that Michael realised that she must know some of the truth. He nodded, but Mary repeated, even more urgently, “Are they safe?”

“Yes they are,” Michael said at last. “I can’t say more than that, but I know they’re alive. Also Rosalind.”

“I just needed to know. I was so fond of David—and Petra. I guessed you were linked up with them somehow. Don’t worry Michael; your secret is safe with me. But don’t trust anyone else—not even my sister, and certainly not the Mortons. Anyway, I’m getting married soon, and leaving all this far behind: we’re moving to another part of Labrador, more than a hundred miles off. Sarah will stay behind and arrange for the selling of the farm to Morton. She’s promised to send me my share of the proceeds—after she’s settled a place for Mother, who’s very poorly—but I shan’t be depending on it. I don’t know what her plans are after that…”

At that moment she saw Michael’s parents approaching, so she hurriedly shook his hand and moved on.

That was encouraging, he thought. Another ally—at least, another one who didn’t seem about to drag him off to the Inspector. But she wasn’t going to be there much longer. He wished he’d been able to ask her more—about the state of affairs in Waknuk. As far as he could tell, the very public humiliations: the field-burnings, the communal prayers before slaughter of livestock, that sort if thing, it seemed to have stopped—or at least been toned down. What was happening behind the scenes, though, he did not know—although he feared the worst. He wondered whether there was any change in what happened to Blasphemies—Human deviations—but was afraid to ask.

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Should he and Rachel try to make a life of it here in Waknuk, after all? Much would depend on the plans of the others in Rachel’s house, Amelia especially, now that the burden of Rachel’s father had been taken from them.

He also remembered what David had told him. Rosalind’s mother had actually helped Rosalind to pack up for their flight. She must have known. Perhaps she was another ally? He did not know her, but he carefully shot a glance at Angus Morton who was standing some distance away. Next to him was a slight, timid-looking woman, evidently in fear of her husband. He guessed that was she. She had not seen him. He turned away.

He stiffened. At the opposite edge of the crowd of mourners, he spotted a familiar face. Crowned by a shock of yellow hair, tied in a pony-tail. And next to him was the Inspector.

Michael did not lose an instant. He thanked Providence that he had spotted the two of them before they spotted him. Ducking under the arm of his astonished father, he ran towards Rachel where she was standing with Amelia, greeting the mourners as they filed past.

“Rachel, we must get away. Now!”

Rachel did not even bother to send a thought-shape. She whispered quickly: “Sorry, Mother. Emergency,” and ran with Michael back to their house. It was empty: both Mark and Stephanie were at the funeral. Rachel scribbled a quick note “Sorry Mother, will try to explain later. Please forgive us for taking the horse.” Then as quickly as possible, they packed some saddlebags and saddled both Michael’s horse, which he had ridden from Kentak, and one of Amelia’s in the stable. Rachel quickly swapped her funereal black skirt for a pair of stout trousers with pockets. Then they mounted and were on their way.

They did not speak nor even exchange thought-shapes until they were nearly halfway to Kentak. By now they thought they were safe from immediate pursuit. They reined in their horses, which were very tired, and took stock in thought-shapes.

“You saw someone at the funeral. Who was it?”

“That young farm-hand I met at Sally’s house. I should never have gone there. You remember: the one who told me to clear off. I’d hoped he’d forgotten all about it. He hadn’t. He was with the Inspector. And they were searching around all the faces.”

“My god! Then it’s started, hasn’t it. Where can we go?”

“Kentak, to start with. I think my flatmates there are trustworthy, for now. And all my money is there: we’re going to need it. But we shan’t be able to stay long. It looks like Labrador isn’t safe for us after all.”

“Michael, whatever the danger, I’ll never leave you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. You know, you weren’t under suspicion. No-one saw you at Sally’s house. It’s I who am putting you in danger. But I’m very glad you’re with me.”

It was now getting dark. Leading their horses a mile further along the road, they came to a place where there was a strip of gravel beside the road. Crossing that, they quickly led their horses in amongst the trees, hoping that their hoof-prints would not be noticed during the night. Then they collected some grass and ferns and made a sort of bivouac in which they could pass the night.

Next morning, mercifully without disturbance, they re-mounted and continued on their way, as quickly as they could, but their horses were still tired, so progress was slow. They hoped that, if any pursuit was to come, it would take time to get organised. Rachel’s sudden flight from the house of mourning, that could easily place her under suspicion, but he hoped that Amelia would somehow cover for her. Struck by a thought, he put out a thought strongly, hoping to contact Mark. Mark responded, very faintly, and Michael quickly explained the situation.

“It’s all right,” replied Mark. “Yes, everyone came back to the house, but Amelia put out the word that Rachel was in tears, had gone to her bedroom, and didn’t want to be disturbed. Stephanie, bless her, supported the story, popping in and out of the bedroom with hot drinks. I think everyone believed us. It’ll be some days before her absence is noticed.”

“What do you plan to do? Once Rachel’s absence is noticed, it’ll cast suspicion on you. And maybe Stephanie.”

“I don’t know, but Amelia says she plans to sell the farm. She has a sister some miles off who she thinks will take her in, now Rachel’s father is gone. We may have to shift sooner than that…”

“You and Stephanie?”

“Yes. Don’t worry Michael. There’s nothing between us: it was just a boyish impulse. She still likes me, and I like her—as friends.”

“Will you come after us? To Kentak?”

“Possibly.”

“We may be gone, but I’ll try to keep in touch—wherever we go on to. Try to stay in range.” And Michael quickly spelled out to Mark the address of his friends in Kentak, hoping that Mark and Stephanie might be able to catch up with them there.