Freeze and stay silent
"What's the row?" he asks. "What are you doing here?
Not trying to steal from me kitchen, are ye--I've 'ad enough of your
theivin' lot 'round 'ere..."
"No...no, I...I..." But you have no idea how to explain, so
you shake your head.
"What are you, daft, girl?"
"Certainly not!" you exclaim, offended. "It's just that
I..." You look up as if to plead for help from above, wishing you
had some kind of clue as to whom you could be. You touch your skirt
and feel something in your pocket. You take it out and find that, for
some reason, you've been carrying around a stale piece of bread.
OK--you'll go with that--it's a prop.
"It's just that, my parents have died," you say. "I was
taken to this place--you might call it an orphanage...but I'd been ill
just before my parents' deaths, and I was apparently too weak to
finish the chores we were given. I collapsed while scrubbing the
terrace, and the matron threw me out. I've been looking for work, but
haven't found any. I don't know why. I had a bit of money, but someone
accosted me and stole it." You have no idea where you're getting
this stuff, but what amazes you is, you suddenly realize it's true.
The man slowly nods. "I see. Well, girl, you have a name?"
A name... You look up again, but have no memory flashes, so you make
something up. "My name is Mary Margaret. I don't know my last
name."
He nods again. "Well, Mary Margaret, we can't have you skulking
about 'ere all night. Tell you what. I own that little tailor shop up
the street. Come with me--the wife will see that you get cleaned up
and get a good meal and a decent night's rest."
That sounds heavenly, but suddenly fear overtakes you again.
"Oh...thank you, but I really, I..." You get up and start to
run, but your ankle screams at you and you end up on the ground again.
The man gives you a compassionate look.
"Come along now. I'm sorry I mistook ye for a thief. On me honor,
I won't 'urt you."
The man, who introduces himself as Colin McCune--and whose accent, you
realize now, actually has a bit of a Scotch twang to it--helps you
into his shop and calls for his wife. "Evelyn! We 'ave a bit o'
company!"
Evelyn, a rather tall, porcelain-skinned woman with blue eyes, bustles
out of the back. She looks you up and down and clucks her tongue.
"Oh, you poor lass..." she says. "Let's get you
upstairs immediately."
"Thank you..." you start to say, but suddenly, you begin
coughing and can't stop. You also realize you're freezing, probably
because that dress was soaked. Oh, great--now what?
"Oh, my," Evelyn exclaims. "Come with me..." She
hustles you toward the back of the building and gently leads you up a
flight of stairs. Oh, great, you think, now you're getting sick. Could
this day get any worse?
And then...
You stay completely still, hoping the owner of the voice will decide
to leave, but instead, the person comes closer. You see now that it's
a middle-aged man with brown eyes and a bulbous nose, dressed in
working-class, shopkeeper style clothing.
