LITMIR.BIZ

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it was ridiculous. Of course the baby was Aurora! It had to be!

      Over the years that followed, Dorothy never dared mention her knowledge to anyone, and after a while she convinced herself that the shock of all those strange and violent events must have done something to her mind.

      The baby had to be Aurora.

      Didn’t she?

      ACT TWO

      THE MUSICIAN

      “Spare us a couple a bob, mate? Just enough for a cup of coffee?”

      The girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Her face was thin and drawn—and dirty—yet she was pretty in a pale, elfin kind of way.

      “You mean ten new pence, don’t you?” grinned Lefty. “Well, I was just going to the pub, as it happens. I’ll buy you a Coke, if you like, if we can get to the bar before they close.”

      “Coke? Oh, wow! Yeah, all right, then. Why not?”

      Five minutes later Lefty was gazing in awe as she downed a large gin and tonic in one swig.

      “You’ll get me arrested,” he said. “Buying alcoholic drinks for minors.”

      “I’m not a minor. Don’t you worry—I’m old enough.”

      “Yeah, yeah, and I’m the Duke of Edinburgh. I just hope you can prove it if the Law comes snooping around.” He stuffed a wad of banknotes into his inside pocket.

      “You’re a bit flush, aren’t you?” she asked, cocking her head.

      “Just been paid for a job.”

      “Oh yeah? What do you do then, this time of night? Burgle houses?”

      “Ha, ha. No. During the day I’m self-unemployed. But I’m in a band—the Gas Giants, heard of us? We’ve been getting quite a few gigs in the evenings.”

      “Funny name. No, I never heard of them. Why’re you called that?”

      “Oh, some of the outer planets are called gas giants ’cause, well, they’re just big balls of gas. That’s us!” His white teeth shone. “No, it just sorta sounded right—we play “spacey” sort of music—one day we’ll show Pink Floyd and Hawkwind how it’s done—and ‘it’s a gas’. You know?”

      “Not really. What do you play?”

      “Bass guitar. I’m left-handed—they call me Lefty—and just to be really different I tune it E, B, G, D, like the top four strings on an ordinary guitar, only back to front. I can really leap around on it though!”

      “If you say so. That stuff’s all Greek to me. I don’t know anything about music. Pop all sounds the same, and the stuff they play on Radio Three’s boring. Mind you, a boy took me to the Last Night of the Proms once.” Her face, which had been almost sullen, brightened. “Now that was great. Not the music so much—it didn’t mean much to me, really—but all those people, enjoying it together. I’ve never known anything like that. Except....”

      “Except what?”

      “I dunno. Something I seem to remember. But I can never seem to get a handle on it. You know what I mean?”

      “I suppose. Well you must come to one of our gigs, then you’ll see what it’s all about.”

      “Maybe. Can I have another drink?”

      “Eh? Oh, right, sure.” He sneaked a glance at her unusually pale, almost violet eyes, set in dark hollows. He couldn’t quite figure her out. Under the grime she was really very good-looking, with her long, very blonde hair, but sort of remote. And she was so slim as to be almost twiggy. Perhaps she’s been ill? he wondered.

      As he got up the barman shouted, “Last orders please, ladies and gents!” It was already 10:40 p.m.

      “Better make it a double then,” said the girl with a grin.

      “Do you think you oughta drink so much?”

      “Habit,” she replied without apparent offence. “It doesn’t help, though. Neither does anything else I’ve tried. Once I thought acid was the answer, but....”

      “What are you trying to find? Drugs aren’t the way, you know. Oh, yeah, I tried them too—took me two years to kick them for good. Cold turkey...ugh.” Lefty shuddered. “If it’ll help you to talk about it, though, go ahead. I’m a good listener, they tell me. Hey, listen, I don’t even know your name...?”

      She put her hands behind her neck and piled her hair on top of her head. It suited her, thought Lefty. Made her look older.

      “It’s Aurora. Don’t you dare laugh.”

      He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

      “Oh, I don’t know myself what’s wrong with me. I always feel there’s something missing, that’s all. Whatever I do, I don’t seem to belong.”

      She paused for a long moment, eyes closed, until Lefty thought she had fallen asleep. Then she continued, drowsily.

      “My dad died in the war. I almost did too, so my mother told me—in the Blitz. We moved back up to Scotland after the war—near Inverness.”

      “Inverness? Wow—Swingsville! So what brings you back here?” asked Lefty. Then he frowned. “Hang on! What do you mean, you were in the Blitz? That’d make you over thirty! Come on, there’s no way you’re more than sixteen. Eighteen, tops. What’s your game?”

      The girl–woman called Aurora gave him an enigmatic smile. “No game. I don’t tell many people, and to be honest I don’t know why I’m telling you, but I’m thirty-two. Yes, on the level.”

      Lefty gave her a long, hard look, then shook his head as if pestered by a fly. “Yeah, right. Go on, then. You were saying—?”

      “Mum died when I was ten, in a car crash. I got out without a scratch. But I didn’t have any other living relatives except my older brother, Steve. We were in and out of children’s homes until I was fifteen. I kept running away. I was good at school, or I was whenever I bothered to go. The problem was, I found lessons too easy. The other kids thought I was a swot, and the teachers couldn’t handle me. So I used to bunk off. Except for science—I liked that. I was good at art too. Of course, even that threw them into a tizzy, ’cause you weren’t supposed to be good at both. Steve would have been OK if it hadn’t been for me. He’s a worker. He’s settled down with his own family now—haven’t seen him for years.

      “Anyway, after that I could never seem to hold down a job for more than a week or two.” Then, in a sudden rush, she added: “I always seem to cause trouble, wherever I go. You’ll see—you won’t want me around for long, either.”

      She started to rise, ready to leave, but Lefty gripped her arm. “Where’re you going? You got a place to stay?”

      “Oh, sure, I’ve got a nice comfy cardboard box on the Embankment. As long as somebody hasn’t beaten me to it....”

      “Come on, I’ll take you to my pad. You could do with somethin’ to eat, anyway. It’s all right—I’ll sleep on the couch.”

      She looked at him doubtfully for a moment, then came to a decision.

      “Sure. Why not? Thanks.”

      Outside, it was raining heavily. Lefty hailed a passing cab but it sailed on past, its wake drenching them.

      “Come on, it’s not far,” he yelled, grabbing Aurora’s hand, his head down. “We can walk. Run.”

      Minutes later they were scampering up half-a-dozen worn, chipped concrete steps and passing through a door still boasting a few shreds of brown paint. Then up four flights of twisting, lino-covered stairs, then another door, which Lefty kicked just below the handle. It flew open.

      “It’s not much, but it’s home,

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