Mrs Huskisson went to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner for the Mistress and a large gathering of guests. She examined the potatoes which the Girl...had spent the early hours in peeling. At first, she was afraid there were no traces of peel left on any of them, but the disappointment faded when she discovered the merest trace on one of them. The rest of the vegetables had been prepared perfectly, however and even the vicious Matilda felt she had no valid excuse to add to the Girl's sufferings. ‘To a…club? No, not a club. A coffee house. There was someone reading poetry…’ ‘And playing guitar, yes,’ Grant said. ‘What happened next?’ ‘I…’ Mindy pushed at the blank, sticky fog that obscured the edges of the memory. ‘I remember talking to you. You were sitting next to me, you were reading a book…I can’t remember much else, though. It’s all foggy.’ ‘It’s okay,’ Grant said soothingly. ‘Just imagine yourself walking into that fog. The closer you get to the memory, the more distinct it. More

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