Stephen was waiting on the front steps of the main hall, breath steaming. It was a fine day, for the time of year: searingly blue sky, frost lingering in the shade. The green tongues of daffodils had begun to appear around the fountain in the quad. The cross quarter was behind them, Equinox looming, and the election was not far off.

“I’m starving,” said Stephen, as soon as she came within hearing distance.

“Sorry,” said Lillian. “Merritt kept me back chatting. Late lunch at the Akill Stairs?”

“Kind of expensive,” said Stephen, frowning.

Lillian, who had been brought up not to talk about money, kept her flinch on the inside. Of course, you could only raise a child like that if you had enough you never fretted or fought over it. “You let me worry about that.”

The Akill Stairs was a local institution—a pub on the north corner of the town square, its front windows facing south across the green. Prices were kept high—the town saw a lot of comings and goings, and most of that went through the Stairs at one point or another. It was a mainstay of families visiting for matriculation, commencement, the beginning and end of term.

As such, it was nearly empty now. Just a few village people, who clearly knew the owners, gathered around a wireless set at one end of the bar. A middle-aged woman in an apron saw them enter and broke off from the crowd.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “Shouldn’t all be knotted up around the radio, but it’s a slow day in here and a fast one on the wireless.”

Lillian felt a current up her spine, and it straightened her. “Has there been news?”

“You haven’t heard yet? DePaul’s done a runner.”

“What?”

“He’s gone. Left this morning and they’re only just telling us. Should have got the word out earlier, so folk would know to look for him.”

Queen’s sake, if the woman had known what to look for she’d be down Lillian’s throat already; hadn’t people always said that she and Cyril could pass for twins?

“Mum?”

Lillian put her hand on Stephen’s shoulder, pressing slightly too hard for affection. It meant silence, and he obliged. She didn’t dare look down at his face.

“Pity,” she said. “But perhaps they had their reasons.” She didn’t expect Makricosta had enough sway in that quarter to hold the hounds off for so long. He might have once, but now? Likely they had only been embarrassed.

“Anyway,” said the woman, “what can I get for you?”

“Just a quick lunch. We’d like to get back to the city before supper.”

“Of course. But it’s a week or so until the end of term! What are you doing getting out early? Lucky nubbin, are you?”

“Uh,” said Stephen.

Lillian squeezed his shoulder. “A death in the family.”