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’cepting that bit on his shoes? They said he’s washed it off but I know they can tell now even after washing . And to be honest, he’s not a great one for that is Kev. He was still all muddy from that fishing.’
    Alex nodded sympathetically and nibbled at her biscuit. It was very old and very stale. She tried a sip of tea to wash away the taste and wished she hadn’t. Clearing her throat as she tried to marshal a suitable response she glanced at Ada and suddenly realized she was crying. Great fat tears rolled down her face and fell into her tea cup. Alex put her own cup on the floor and reached out to steady the woman’s shaking hands.
    ‘’Tis not right! My poor little lad, they knows it’s not him but they’ve got him now. Don’t reckon we’ll stand no chance of getting him back. He hates bein’ inside. Always out in all weathers he is. He’s not got no chance locked up with them evil men.’ She sobbed, sniffed loudly and sobbed again.
    ‘And I can’t even go see him. ’Tis so far, Bristol. There’s no bus nor nothing!’ She finished with a wail.
    Alex fumbled in her case and pulled out one rather crumpled tissue. Mrs Mallory took this feeble offering, soaking it with one huge blast from her nose. Note to self, thought Alex, get better tissues. She felt something nudge her leg and flinched as another dog, a long haired lurcher speckled in grey and tan leaned on her foot, mouth open to steal the biscuit she had left on her saucer.
     
    ‘So I ended up offering her a lift when I go up to see him,’ she admitted to Lauren the next morning. Lauren threw her a look of withering scorn.
    ‘Now how do you suppose she’s going to get in without a visiting order? Kevin can’t read you know, so he don’t send them out.’
    ‘Oh shit, I didn’t think of that. How does she usually manage?’
    Lauren sighed and pointed to a row of folders on a shelf by the window.
    ‘The tacky green one on the right,’ she said.
    Alex reached up and took the folder. It was labelled ‘KM: VO’, and inside was a bundle of form letters, neatly typed and signed, requesting a visit with Kevin. Lauren held out her hand and took a blank form.
    ‘He’s in Bristol isn’t he – right. What day you planning to go?’ She typed in the details, addressed an envelope and flipped the finished letter into the post tray.
    ‘Now you have to go back and tell her to expect the order,’ she instructed. ‘The Mallorys have a nasty habit of burning anything official looking as soon as it lands through their door.’
    Alex groaned. She was already heartily sick of the Levels and still could not find her way out from that eerie, flat landscape . She knew one road – and it was only wide enough for one car. Once again she had driven straight on from her visit to Mrs Mallory, emerging somewhere near Glastonbury.
    ‘Isn’t there a map or something,’ she asked. Pauline looked up and laughed at this.
    ‘There’s a map, sure. We call it the “Edgar”, but you’re welcome to a copy if you want.’
    ‘Edgar?’
    ‘For Edgar Allan Poe,’ said Lauren. ‘You know, “Tales of Mystery and Imagination”.’
    ‘More like “The House of Usher”, out there,’ commented Paul Malcolm, leaning over the counter. ‘Hi Alex, how’s it going with Brian?’
     
    Alex was working frantically, trying to finish up her notes from her day in court when a call came through summoningher to Garry’s office. He gave her an approving glance as she knocked and entered.
    ‘That’s much better,’ he commented taking in her skirt, blouse and jacket. ‘That’s how a probation officer should dress.’
    ‘Just the women though,’ said Alex, and regretted it the instant the words left her mouth. Garry frowned.
    ‘Of course, just the women. What are you implying?’
    ‘Sorry, nothing. Nothing – it was just a bit of a joke Garry.’
    Her Senior did not seem to find it very funny and continued to frown in her direction.
    ‘Well, I suppose you have