‘Then you owe me a life-debt. Lead the way to the Tricksy nightwalker, Bucko, we’ve a train to catch. And hey, here’s the plan: you do the talking and I’ll stand there and look menacing. Yes?’

I was, I think, stunned. In shock. I’d not seen anyone die before. Few did. Because the old, the weak and the diseased were winnowed out by Winter’s sympathetic hand, the only deaths I’d been aware of in the Summer were accidents, which probably explained the almost ridiculous levels of public curiosity surrounding traffic fatalities. Two weeks after I’d taken up residence in the Melody Black, someone was hit by a removals van outside. You could barely move for onlookers.

‘Okay,’ I said.

Fortified by Aurora’s fearlessness, I led the way back around the corridor. As soon as we stepped into the room the guy with the Thumper thought he’d have a go, but one of Aurora’s Bambis took his arm off at the elbow. She didn’t pause for a moment and stepped forward to hold the second weapon a foot from Foulnap’s face.

‘Okay, okay,’ he said, his voice unbowed but with the reality of the situation sharply in focus, ‘what do you want?’

‘Mrs Tiffen,’ I said.

‘You’re making a serious mistake, Worthing, Aurora is not looking after your best interests.’

‘And you are?’

‘It’s really complicated.’

‘You seem familiar,’ said Aurora to Foulnap. ‘Do I know you?’

‘Nope,’ said Foulnap, ‘just a Footman trying to turn a profit.’

‘Do it another way. House painting, for instance, or plumbing, or invent a game like Jenga or Cluedo or something.’

Foulnap moved to the bathroom as the medic went to Lopez’s aid, and a moment or two later Mrs Tiffen was in the room, as blank as ever. I gave her the bouzouki, which was still lying on the floor, and she instantly began to play ‘Help Yourself’ as we headed towards the elevators.

*   *   *

The train was still standing at the platform when the cab deposited us outside the station, and I could see Moody tightening the ratchet straps on the flatbed while, near by, a clearly agitated stationmaster consulted a large pocket watch.

We’d made it with seconds to spare.

Over the hump

‘ . . . The Winter is a necessarily harsh gardener. It weeds out the weak and the elderly, the sick and the physically compromised. Inroads have been made towards “Proactive Winter Support” to increase survivability of those with high intellect but low constitution, but for large numbers of the population it is both impractical and expensive. Only the strong and the wealthy should ever see the Spring  . . . ’

– James Sleepwell’s speech defending denial of Morphenox rights to all