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along the tracks. Somewhere back there was the life I’d known. I had the strangest thought—I could just turn around and walk back. It would take days, of course, but it couldn’t be much more than a hundred miles, and if I walked for a few days I could…I let it go. It was the silly thought of a scared little girl. I was scared, but I wasn’t a little girl. I was strong. That’s what Joe had said. I had to face the present. My life, whatever it would become, was right here. Besides, I had other, more pressing things to think about. Rather than entertaining any thoughts of walking back to Hope, I had to get myself to my new home and my new place of employment.
    The platform was now empty. I was alone. I walked over to the station, took a seat on the bench, placed my suitcase at my feet and pulled out my purse. Carefully I removed my birth certificate and the newspaper clippings and smoothed them out. One of the clippings had ripped, and the headline MAN CONVICTED OF MURDER was split in two. I folded the papers together and slid them back into my purse, this time more carefully. Somewhere in my purse was the address I needed. Mrs. Hazelton had said my new home wasn’t too far from the station. I could ask the station master for directions and walk.
    I fumbled around in my purse, but I couldn’t find the slip of paper with the address on it. What if it had fallen out of my purse when I dropped it on the train? What would I do then? It wasn’t as if I’d memorized the address or—there the paper was, tucked away in the bottom of my purse. I pulled it out, unfolded it and read it: 1121 Sydenham Street.
    I let out a sigh of relief. Now that I knew where I was going, all I had to do was get there. If I’d fantasized about walking back to Hope, I could certainly stroll across Kingston. Kingston was bigger than Hope by a long shot, but it wasn’t so big that I couldn’t walk from one side of it to the other if I had to.
    “Are you Betty?”
    I looked up. A man in a black suit stood over me.
    “Are you Betty?” he asked again.
    I hesitated for a split second and then replied, “My name is Elizabeth Anne.”
    “Sorry to bother you,” he said. “I’m here to pick up somebody named Betty Shirley.”
    He was half a step away before I called out, “Wait!” and jumped to my feet. “My friends call me Betty.”
    He looked suspicious, as if I was lying to him to get a ride.
    “I’m here to take up a position at the Remington residence,” I explained.
    His expression resolved into a smile, and he nodded his head. “Then you’re the person I’m here to get.”
    “Are you Mr. Remington?”
    He burst into laughter, which caught me by surprise. I felt embarrassed.
    “I’m James, the Remingtons’ driver .”
    I held out my hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you, sir.”
    “No need to call me sir,” he said as we shook. “Here, let me take your bag.”
    Before I could object, he swept down and picked it up, turning on his heels and heading away. I scrambled after him.
    “It was nice of you to come and get me,” I said.
    “Just following orders.”
    “Mr. Remington sent you?”
    “Mr. Remington has been gone and buried for a good twenty-five years.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    “Why, did you know him?” he asked.
    “Of course not! I wasn’t even born twenty-five years ago. It’s just that it’s sad that he passed on,” I said.
    “If you’d known the man, you would know it wasn’t that sad a day.”
    I didn’t know what to say or how to react.
    He stopped beside a large black car—the fanciest car I’d ever seen in my entire life. He opened up the trunk, placed my suitcase in it and then walked to the side and opened up the front passenger door, gesturing for me to get in. I did. He closed the door and circled around, getting in behind the wheel.
    “This is a beautiful car,” I said as he started the engine.
    “It is not simply a beautiful car,” James said. “It is the most