After a few more shaky steps, Pauline stopped. She wiped the back of her hand across her brow. “I need to sit down,” she said, and collapsed at the foot of a tree. Lauren managed to shove her behind the trunk as she went down, so that once she was on the ground the parts that stuck out were partially obscured by some flowers. But Lauren knew that she couldn’t hesitate; it wouldn’t take long for someone on the staff to see that she was out here alone.

She walked quickly towards the gate without looking back, pushing the babies in front of her. Halfway there she slowed, not sure how to proceed: the gate was shut, and wouldn’t be opened unless and until a car tried to get in from the other side.

Frantic, she scanned the wall and the high chain-link fence, knowing it was impossible to climb, even without two babies to carry. But the shrubs on either side of the shut gate held a possible answer. She picked up the pace again, praying she wouldn’t be seen in the moments before she was able to conceal herself and the stroller against the wall. She had to be quick; there was only a small window of opportunity.

In the pushchair, Selver and Bishop were gleeful. They wanted her to succeed, too. The three of them had a common purpose, and this knowledge caused the revulsion she felt for the pair to lessen slightly. The imposters had almost as much to lose as she did: if she was caught, they’d never get back to their home, to their strange river-mother. Lauren, this psychiatric patient whom the authorities thought mad enough to incarcerate indefinitely, was the only person in the world who could help them. If she was caught, she wouldn’t be treated in a mental hospital, either, she’d more likely be sent to prison. But, much worse than that: if anyone stopped her, she might never see her real babies again.

She reached the bushes and found a place to hide, gathering the babies in her arms and pushing the stroller further under the branches; she needed to be able to run without being held back by that unwieldy trolley. Holding them was a grim necessity that none of them were entirely happy about. The stiff little bodies relaxed against her a little, but the movement was self-conscious. She tried not to meet their gaze.