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'He'll never love you,' said Mrs Kreiner, sadly shaking her head. 'You can't change a man like that.'

Maria looked up, speechless. She wanted to rail against the old woman, tell her to shut up and to stop being so stupid, but the words wouldn't come.

'What are you on about, Mum?'

Mrs Kreiner tutted. 'Her and Dr Roley.'

It was as if hearing his name opened the floodgates. 'What do you know about it?' stormed Maria. 'Stupid old woman! Kraut-lover!'

'Watch your lip!' Fitz snapped back at her.

'No, it's all right, son.' Mrs Kreiner raised herself up to her full height, losing her stoop completely. 'She's full of hate, this one. Full of hate. She should’ve been a butcher, not a nurse. We might as well be bits of meat to her.'

Maria was dumbstruck once again. 'You spiteful old baggage!' was the best reply she could summon up.

'You're nothing to him,' the old woman said, her eyes bright.

'That's not true!' But, even to her own ears, the statement came out as more of a plea.

'You've coveted him for all this time and never once has he looked at you as anything other than a convenience.'

'And how would you know anything, you daft -'

'We all of us know.' Her voice was louder, deeper.

'Calm down, Mum,' said Fitz.

The old woman ignored him. 'Go and ask him, then,' she challenged Bulwell. 'Go to him and get it out in the open once and for all.' She wiped frantically at her mouth, clearly imitating Charles earlier. 'Go to him. Before I take your mouth away, you fat bitch.'

Maria saw the spite in her eyes, remembered how the old woman had fought and struggled in her arms on the landing. This was no funny mm.

There was something about her now: the gentleness had been bled out of her like the colour in her skin. Hard. Old. Powerful.

She had to tell Charles. Maria ran for the study, praying he would be there.

***

'Sam, it's so good to see you!'

'Wish I could say the same. It's awful to see - full stop - right now.'

She closed her eyes and squeezed his sleeve. She could feel only warm velvet under her hand, but she knew if she looked she'd see them all, nestling on his arm, sucking on her hand. And he was blind to it all.

'Sam?' His voice was soft. 'Sam, what have they done to you?'

She told him everything she could remember.

***

Fitz swore. This wasn't right. She shouldn't look like that. Having a go at Bulwell had taken it right out of her. He wanted to go off and find Roley himself, see what could be done for her, but didn't want to leave his mum alone like this: sweating, wheezing, only half-aware.

'That will do, Mr Kreiner.'

Fitz looked up. There, in the doorway, was Watson, staring at him.

'What are you on about?' Fitz said, then noticed the man's hand. 'Christ, what've you done to yourself?'

'I'd rather you didn't use His name when you speak to me.' Watson said, smoothly. 'Now, stand away from her.'

'That's my mother you're talking about!'

'Is it?' said Watson. 'No. That's just a hindrance, there, isn't it? A millstone round your neck. A pain in the backside, boy, isn't that what you think of her?'

Fitz stared at him. 'So what if I do?' he said, quietly. 'She wouldn't be my mother if she wasn't, would she?'

Watson advanced on him. Fitz swallowed hard but stood his ground.

'This woman has lived most of her life in fear,' Watson said. 'Afraid of reprisals for the choices she's made. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of losing herself.'

Fitz could only watch as the man sat next to his mum and held her hand.

Immediately, her breathing calmed, her feverish look drained away.

'It's time others felt that fear,' continued Watson.

'We do, mate, believe me, we do.' Fitz held a hand out warily to his mum.

'Come on,' he said. 'You're coming with me.'

His mum didn't even look at him. 'Get out, Fitz,' she said.

'Mum, I can't just -'

'Get out!' she screeched.

Fitz backed away, involuntarily.

"The world'll be sorry for what it's done to me!' she shouted. 'And