The traffic is building up—it takes an hour before they reach the outskirts of London, going west. Lina seems absorbed by the small streets, the skyscrapers, factories, and bridges. Melissa is conscious she is driving away from Izzy who is probably in school assembly right now. I’ll be back for you later, sweetheart, she tells her daughter silently, I won’t be long. She glances at the clock on the dashboard. It’s nine—nearly two hours have gone by since her phone call.

“There is a shelter in a town called Salisbury, a house where you will be safe, looked after. That’s where we are heading right now.”

Lina’s eyes are on the car in front; she is still clasping her passport. Her head is tilted toward Melissa, listening.

“The people there need you to talk to them. I’ve already told them a little about your story but now they need to hear from you, to make sure you’re okay with this plan.” Melissa hands over the phone. “A woman there speaks Arabic, you can tell her what you want to. You’ll be very private; I won’t understand a word.”

Lina speaks hesitantly at first but gradually the tone changes, becoming more animated. She speaks more confidently though there are tears in her voice. She listens then talks some more; after a while, she sounds calmer. The conversation lasts twenty minutes, and then she says goodbye.

“Okay.” She hands the phone back; she sounds very tired. “Okay.”

They are free of London now and speeding past fields fringed by shadowy woods and dusted with snow. Lina’s eyes have closed and her head rests against the window. The roads are busy but Melissa drives as fast and smoothly as she can. The tall spire of the cathedral takes her by surprise when it appears between the hills. The GPS guides her to the suburbs, an unremarkable street of terraced houses, damp sidewalks, box hedges, and trash bins. She pulls up outside the gate.

Lina struggles awake and looks around, taking in the houses and the road. Is she working out where her escape routes may lie?

“We have arrived, Lina. This is your shelter,” Melissa tells her softly. “You’ll be safe here.” They get out of the car. She won’t mention plans or promise visas; it’s enough that they have arrived, that a different life is about to start for Lina. She digs in her handbag, tears out a page from her diary, scrawls her cell phone number and hands it over. Then she takes Lina’s hand and together they walk through the wooden gate and up to the front door.

Eve

Eve and Grace cower behind the half-open door of the sitting room. Through its hinged gap they see Igor enter the bungalow, he is still wearing Eric’s jacket over his pajamas. His body seems to fill the narrow hallway as he walks past. Eve’s heart is beating wildly, Grace is silent beside her, scarcely breathing. The electric murmurings of a kettle reach them from the kitchen, then the clash of cups. He is getting ready for guests. Who can he be expecting, what accomplices?