Lily perched on the edge of a wicker chair, threading a needle through a soft patch of pale pink fabric. She had been learning to sew, to knit, and to write blocky letters. She looked like a regular fine little lady, with her booted feet crossed over one another as she sat, working on her finery. She was tagging along with aunt Polly, and Lizzie, Ada and Michael-minus Arthur, who had not shown up. It was a business meeting of sorts anin Michaels hospital room where he was still recovering from when he had been shot, almost losing his life. When Lily had first entered the room, she had found her way to Michael, and set a small handkerchief she had sewn into his palms. It had been embroidered with an M. He had spelled a quick, curt thank you into her open hand, careful not to startle her, and she had twittered like a bird, happy that she had made something for her cousin. She was trying to get better with touch and affection-something the evil priest had ruined for her. She was getting better with women, and with people she trusted. That did not include Tommy. She only tolerated his touch for short, to the point and necessary things. It was to exchange information, and Polly thought it was the most like Tommy she had ever seen the girl, with the coldness of it all.

Lizzie was to have a baby-it was babies all around. Polly had read her tea leaves-something she was quite good at. But she would never read Lily's-she told the girl that she had lived enough trouble, and to live in the moment. Lily was glad for a baby, she hoped it would be a girl. She loved Charlie so, and she relished the thought of another small child to help care for and play with. This is what she thought about as she kneeled in the cold street, just outside, pouring out a washbasin from inside the flat on watery lane. She liked to help with the chores these days, it gave her something to do. She had spent the night at watery lane instead of Arrow House, and it had felt good to be back in the home where she grew up. Someone touched her shoulder, and she flinched, backing away like a spooked horse. She felt the deep vibration of something...maybe a car horn? Someone must be visiting, most likely for Tommy. She pressed herself against the wet brick wall of the flat, frowning, when she felt someone else come up next to her. She recognized the scent as Tommy, and she reached for his hand, spelling quickly w-h-o into it. He was brisk with his response, and he spelled 'alfie' into her palm. Ah, yes, the girl remembered the man who smelled of whiskey and bread, who wore lots of jewelry. She turned, hand out to find him, and when she did she spelled hello in the air. "She's saying hello." Tommy coughed, pocketing his gloved hands due to the Birmingham chill-even a Brummie born through and through was cold in this weather. "Ah, yes, the fine little blind girl. Very clever these days, isn't she? I quite like this one. She seems brighter than you, Tommy, and more polite." He let out a laugh. Tommy's face stayed stoic and stony. Typical. Tommy patted her shoulder, dismissing her into the flat with a gentle push. She lay a hand on the cold brick wall, shivering at the chill, before she was engulfed in the warmth of her childhood home. there was a fire going, keeping the sitting room toasty, the scent of burning wood and heat tickling her nose like the spices of a shop you might find down the cold street. She ran her fingers along the side of the cool flat wall, finding her way into the kitchen. 'Fine', she thought to herself. She felt better inside out of the cold that seeped into her bones, anyway.

Damn Tommy, she decided. She had learnt the curse word from Arthur one night when he had attempted to spell all kinds of dirty words for her, educating her on the crass words a drunk man could spew. She was still angry with him, so angry and yet so cold inside towards him, like she cared so much but also didn't care at all.

//

Today was important. She was to be kept in Arrow House, alongside Frances, and she sat now on the floor with Charlie, pulling toy trains along a set of small polished tracks. But her mind was heavy with what today was-for she felt in her heart danger was near.