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dark.”
    Miri chewed her lip, frowning down at the rug in the centre of the room. “No … if they suspected you they would have come here today. They must just assume that you were one of the Bloomsbury Boys. I need to go and speak to Jay about this right now as there may be retaliation.” She stood and grabbed her shawl from the armchair. “Light the candles. It’ll be dark by the time I come back. Lock the door after me, and do not leave the house, do you hear?”
    Zane nodded, not used to such a stern tone of voice from his mother. Just as she was about to turn the handle of the front door he called to her. “Mum?”
    She turned to look at him, her mind clearly focused on her task, “Yes?”
    â€œAre you angry with me?”
    She sighed. “I was, but now I’m just glad that you’re home and safe. Promise me you won’t do anything that stupid ever again.”
    â€œI promise.”
    Zane didn’t leave the house for a couple of days and either Grame or Mark was always present at the edge of the garden square, watching over Miri, as all feared some kind of retribution. But no Hunters from the Red Lady were sighted, and so the tension gradually subsided into a quiet grief. Jay checked on Miri personally at the end of each day, onlystopping by for a quick conversation as he was reluctant to leave the Boys for too long on their own. They’d only end up fighting, mucking about or trashing something, and he needed to make sure their energy was focused on survival, not seeing who could pee the highest up a wall.
    On the third day Zane finally went outside and helped his mother in the garden. He was still withdrawn, but Miri was relieved that he was at least starting to get on with things again. They worked close to each other, comfortable with the silence between them filled by the birdsong, the sound of digging, and the pulling up of weeds as they harvested the latest crops and herbs.
    When the sun hit the corner of the garden, they paused for mid-morning tea as usual, made from a blend of herbs created by Miri that was both refreshing and restorative. Later that day, as they were about to lay down tools, they heard a sound that froze Zane and spurred Miri into action. It was the alarm from the Boys’ square that was only sounded in the worst kind of emergency: a Gardner attack.
    Miri scooped up her tools into her skirt and grabbed Zane’s hand to pull him into the house. She then bolted the door and instructed Zane to check that all of the windows and the back door were also locked as she drew the curtains of the living room.
    It had happened many times before, but this time Miri was more on edge. The loud clanging of the metal bar on the rusting car roof in the Boys’ square was muffled indoors but still audible, carried easily across an almost silent London. Then it stopped, and both Miri and Zane knew that now, as they hid, the Boys would be engaged in a brutal fight for survival.
    After a few moments, Miri went to pack her satchel with fresh bandages, needle and thread and then gathered her pestle and mortar with a selection of fresh herbs to make the poultice that would inevitably be used on some kind ofwound. Whilst she did this, Zane tied his hair back and washed his hands in the bucket of water drawn from the pump that morning.
    Then there was nothing to do except wait, poised, listening intently for the sound of the all clear. Some minutes later it was sounded, and Miri cautiously peeped out from behind the curtains.
    They both knew not to leave the house until one of the Boys called round, just in case a rogue Gardner strayed into their square. It had happened only once since Zane had been alive, but that one time was enough to establish the rule firmly.
    Sure enough, a short time after the all clear, a knock of three rapid raps, then three slower ones hit the front door and Miri rushed to open it, recognising Jay’s code.
    But it was