Catch up with them! she thought, jumping up from her chair to walk about the room. Stop them before they killed themselves on the sea, get Lotti back to school before the Netherburys returned on Friday, make Ben see sense about his brother. He and Elsie could live with her—why not? She had money now. She could become Ben’s guardian! And she would take in Federico too, of course. She wasn’t overly fond of the little Chihuahua, but she would do it for Lotti. And she and Ben would go to Pembrokeshire for the holidays with the dogs and rent a cottage near Lotti’s school—better still, she and Ben would go and live in Pembrokeshire! And visit Lotti all the time!

Was this the life purpose she had longed for that night in London, after hearing about Max? To bring the children back and keep them safe?

Clara spent the evening packing. On Thursday morning, she took the train to London, and from there she went on to the coast.

Far away in Pembrokeshire, the secretary of St. Winifred’s Academy entered the headmistress’s study.

“It’s about the new girl,” she said. “Charlotte St. Rémy, the one who never turned up. I’ve telephoned every day, but nobody answers. Shall I write?”

“Yes, do,” said the headmistress. “The usual letter for last-minute cancellations. Don’t forget to mention the school fees.”

The school secretary retired to her office and put a sheet of headed notepaper in her typewriter.

Dear Mr. Netherbury … she began.

Chapter Sixteen

It was easy to pretend, between Monday morning when the Sparrowhawk and the Starling left Anfield Lock and Wednesday evening when they arrived in London, that they were on a sort of boating holiday. That Albert Skinner would not return, that the Netherburys would never discover Lotti’s flight. That soon the Starling and the Sparrowhawk would not part ways, that the Thames and its currents, the murderous waves of the Channel, the waterways and battlefields of France did not lie ahead, with all their attendant dangers. Easy to pretend, as the sun shone down on the friendly, peaceful canals, that life could drift along like this for ever.

Lotti improved her driving and learned to operate locks. Ben perfected his handling of the Sparrowhawk. Federico, still enthralled by waterfowl but cured of swimming, took to sitting on the bow like a miniature figurehead.

Elsie slept.

And slept.

And slept.

By Wednesday morning, Ben was starting to worry.

“Do you think she’s ill?” he asked Lotti when Elsie fell asleep straight after breakfast.

“Maybe she can sense something,” Lotti replied. “Animals do, you know.”

“Sense what?” asked Ben.

“Change,” said Lotti. “It’s all around us. Can’t you feel it?”