Danny stared blankly out the window. "Mommy, where're we going?"

"I told you last night, sweetie," I said. "We're going to have tea with that nice lady we met."

"What nice lady?"

"The lady who lives at Garden Lodge."

"Her?" He squinted. "Why?"

"Because she invited us, of course."

And she had. Officially, at that. The hastily scrawled note in John's mailbox that afternoon had requested our presence for tea at four o'clock sharp. No return address, of course, and no signature. In fact she had not even provided a phone number by which we could properly let her know we were coming, for fear perhaps that the note would fall into the hands of the wrong person- but I knew its sender just by the connotations of the words and the tone of the entire message: chilly, concise, and ominous.

In other words, Mary Austin in a nutshell.

But Danny still didn't get it. "Why?"

"Because she wants us there."

"Why?"

"I don't really know."

"Why?" he grinned impishly.

I just laughed. Yes, Danny was at that age where everything needed a minute, specific explanation- at least, until it became a game where he tried to see how long he could keep on asking "why" and still get some kind of answer out of me.

It was still a good question nevertheless. Why had she invited me? Or rather, why had she invited us? For she even made certain to use the words "both of you" in the note. What did Danny matter? I would have certainly thought that the fewer people trespassing the grounds of Garden Lodge, the better. But she wanted us both, and as soon as we could get there.

And so, against John's wishes as well as my better judgment, I called a cab to the house at half past three, collected Danny, and piled inside- while the Deacons watched in quiet surrender from the stoop.

I should have listened to John. Let me just get that over with first.

This wasn't something I realized after the fact, either. I knew it the moment I woke that fateful overcast morning. Even as the cab turned the corner, and those high, foreboding garden walls came in sight, I could feel in my bones that I would forever regret ever taking Mary up on her spontaneous invitation to tea the day before. But still I went.

I knew John was disappointed in me for being such a slave to my curiosity, but what else could I have done? How on Earth could I have denied myself such a rare opportunity to see with my own eyes, the inside of Freddie's pride and joy in his latter days, the great mansion, Garden Lodge itself?

Few had ever been within its walls since the death of my prince. Mary had allowed a handful to enter for the sake of interviews and magazine articles, but this was a very long time ago. Since then, the woman had lived the life of a hermit, shrouding the estate in layer upon layer of new mystery as the years went by. Even after the release of that... film, in which her character was presented as lovable and something very close to angelic, she only seemed to hide away more, tucking herself even further within her inherited shell.

And yet, just the sight of Danny and myself had coaxed her into the sunlight long enough to follow us and speak to us personally there in front of Freddie's old flat.

I wonder why, too, little phantom.

"We're here," the cab driver announced. I paid him, and hopped out of the side after Danny. As we had been instructed via her note, I waited for the cab to roll out of view, before taking my boy by the hand and walking casually around to the back entrance, which she apparently used as the front door now that the garden entry was more or less walled off by huge glass panes.

I saw the Mini Cooper parked nearby; Mary was home. This confirmed that this was no prank. Not that she was the sort to play practical jokes on strangers, but now I knew for certain.

Before I could knock on the door, however, Danny skidded to a stop, letting out a quiet whimper.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

He shivered violently. "I'm scared."

"Honey, I'm right here, everything's fine."

"No!" he cried. "I wanna go home."

"Honey, there's nothing to be afr-"

"There's ghosts in there, Mommy! Ghosts!"

I tried my hardest not to roll my eyes. Now was not the time for his spiel about supernatural entities lurking here, there, and everywhere. This is my fault for showing him Ghostbusters too young.

"Danny, the only phantom around here is you," I tried to reassure him playfully. "Please calm-"

"Nuh-uh. There's ghosts here. It feels like ghosts. All over."

"How do you know what ghosts feel like?"

The boy looked down at his feet. "I just do."

I sighed, leaning down toward him and ruffling his hair. "Look. We won't stay long, baby. Twenty minutes, tops. I promise."

His pouting little lips pursed, and then after a moment or two he mumbled, "But, Mom, she... scares me."

So that's it.

"She scares me, too, Danny," I admitted in all honesty. "But this is something that we have to do, just this once- just so we can get this out of the way for the rest of our lives. Hai?"

He lifted his sweet eyes a moment before facing the ground again. Very reluctantly, then, he bobbed his head up and down. "Hai."

"All right." That crisis having been alleviated, I stood up again, and with a tentative hand rapped at the wooden slab.

At first, no one answered. So I tried again, a little more aggressively. Once more, Mary did not materialize.

"Can we go now?" Danny chirped.

"Well, I supp-" I began to concede, when suddenly the door swung open. There she stood, he mistress of the manor, Mary Austin herself.

"You came," she said, her tone cool yet somewhat incredulous, as though she hadn't really expected me to call her bluff. "Good afternoon, Eve."

"Good afternoon, Ms. Austin," I greeted her, just barely remembering to smile- something Mary did not return. Her wide-set eyes were trained on my son.

"And it's - Danny, isn't it?" she murmured.

Pressing closer against my side, the boy peered up at her cautiously. "Uh-huh."

"Danny, you're addressing an adult; say 'yes, ma'am,'" I coaxed.

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled with his chin tucked down. This time, Mary managed to crack a smile- not for long, but it still happened. Danny was just like his father in that respect; he possessed a funny little charm about him that could set even the frostiest of hearts to melting.

After a second or two, Mary met my eyes again, seemed to remember her manners. "Oh, uh- sorry, please do come in." She backed up a little, made way for us to step inside. And so, with some hesitation, I took Danny's hand in mine, and we crossed the threshold. Mary shut the door behind us, the click of the lock resounding uncomfortably.

I drew in a deep breath and let it out as slowly as I could. Here goes nothing.

Mary beckoned for us to follow her. Without one word, we walked two paces behind her, passing through a dim sort of hall. Danny's grip on my hand tightened, and I could completely understand why. As our hostess led us through to the heart of the mansion, I couldn't help shivering. Granted, she looked much better now that she was wearing a little rouge on her cheeks and mascara on her lashes, adding a touch of life to her pale countenance. But where before Mary had been inquisitive, now she was aloof. In the sunshine of yesterday afternoon, she had not seemed nearly so ethereal, so ghostly.

All she needs is a candlebra and a Transylvanian accent, I chuckled nervously.

Which did not go unheard. Mary turned her head, her eyes regarding me with quiet disinterest.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

It really wasn't that far of a trip from the door to the living room; it only took four or five seconds overall to cover the short distance, although I felt like I was walking the Green Mile. But once we had entered, my heart fluttered with sorrow.

So this is the place, I told myself. This is where he spent his final moments.

Even though it had been many years since I last watched any of those old Garden Lodge tapes, some of Freddie's private home videos that had mysteriously wound up on YouTube, I remembered some of the layout of the rooms, including this one, quite clearly. There was that big lamp with the great white lampshade, there were the plush ivory sofas and chairs, arranged the very same way as they had nearly forty years ago. I knew I would not have to go far to find that sweet little jukebox he owned- nor that magnificent grand piano of his, which itself harbored so many sweet memories of mine. Nothing had been moved, nothing had been altered- not even the pictures on the wall. It was as though he had never left, and Mary was simply house-sitting for him, as she had while he was away on tour.

"The kettle shouldn't be much longer," Mary said demurely.

I nodded. "Can I help you with anything?"

"No, it's all set up, but thank you." After a beat, she added, "Incidentally, though, do you have your mobile with you?"

"My phone?" I squinted. "Why?"

"Do you?"

"Uh- yes, but-"

"Right. Then would you mind please turning it off and setting it there on the table?"

I bit my lip. "Uh- is it okay if I set it on vibrate in case someone tries to-"

"No. Off." Her voice was firm.

Annoyed, I opened my mouth to ask for a reason, only to understand a second or two later. "Very well," I murmured, drawing my phone from my purse and shutting it down for the time being. The way I saw it, Mary did not want to chance some mere acquaintance snapping any shots of the house's interior or, God forbid, recording any audio or video. That perhaps was a bridge too far.

To the boy, however, she added in a much sweeter tone, "Would you like anything, Danny? I've got these lovely tea cakes from a bakery on High Street, I bought them just for the occasion."

"No, thanks," he mumbled shyly.

She blinked. "Well- would you like to go outside and, uh- I mean, there's a pond out in the garden, with all sorts of fish and things... um..."

Danny shook his head. Very subtly, Mary's mouth tightened into a straight line- which only made the child shrink back against me even more. I don't suppose Mary appreciated how he was receiving her somewhat clumsy effort toward kindness. For a little while no one said anything- until a soft little miaow miraculously pierced the tension.

"Look, Mommy! A kitty cat!" Danny cried, ambling happily toward the tortoiseshell stretching luxuriously by the garden door. "Can I pet her?"

"If Ms. Austin says it's all right," I replied.

She smiled pleasantly. "Of course, she loves to be pet. Go right ahead."

"Here, kitty kitty," Danny cooed. "What's her name?"

"That's Felicity." A shrill whistle suddenly sounded. "Oh! That's the tea. One moment."

"Felicity the kitty." He giggled at the rhyme, playing with the cat's tail while Mary walked out of the room. Felicity however, did not think it nearly so amusing, and padded aloofly toward the stairs- but not so quickly as to keep her from arching up when Danny's hand ran along her soft mottled back.

"Danny, don't go too far, sweetie," I warned him.

"Oh, he's all right," Mary called from the kitchen. "I've moved everything that's breakable- and while this house is big, it's hard to get lost."

"I'll take your word for it," I sighed, watching as Danny and the cat tumbled out of sight.

"Have you never been here before?"

I followed the sound of her voice. "Never. I mean- not unless you count standing outside the wall at least once a year."

"Really? But you said that, uh- Danny's father used to live here." Funny, how she was approaching this conversation as though she still doubted my words- even though if any ounce of doubt had existed in her mind, I would not have been standing in this big, immaculate kitchen, talking to her.

"He did," I said.

She nodded, still with her back to me. "For how long?"

"You know how long; you were there," I said evasively.

"So I was- but were you?"

"No. At least- not at that point in time."

"Hm."

We didn't say anything again until we were seated in the living room, sipping tea from china cups whose dainty yet simple design all but screamed that they had been selected with the utmost consideration, not by Mary, but by the previous lord of the manor. I kept one ear listening for Danny, who had chased Felicity all the way upstairs, but was making enough bumps and high-pitched giggles to give a rough idea of where I might find him in case of emergency.

"Pretty, aren't they?" she murmured out of the blue.

I looked up awkwardly. "Hm?"

"I saw you looking at the china."

"Oh! Oh yes. They're very nice."

"This is actually a set he bought when we lived on Holland Road. He found it at some antique shop one day, and of course he just had to have it." Mary chuckled, taking a sip. "We didn't have much to eat in those days, but we certainly had a nice tea set."

I squinted- and suddenly realization hit me upside the head. With a gasp, I exclaimed, "I think I remember these, actually!"

Mary was surprised. "You do?"

"Yes! The handles here, pointed handles, and the reddish- oh my gosh! This takes me so far back, oh wow." As sad as the memories made me, I still couldn't help but smile.

"To when?"

"That dinner party- at his flat! Not the Holland Road one, I mean Stafford Terrace. Remember that?"

Her dusty complexion seemed to blanch even more. "I'm not- I mean, he had lots of dinner parties there, lots of parties in general, so-"

"It was in 1977, July- twelfth or thirteenth? No, the twelfth, yes. The twelfth."

"Oh?"

I should have known by the way her voice was flattening that I should have turned back right then and there, headed far away from where this conversation would inevitably lead. But I was too lost in the past, those lovely memories bubbling up from my heart and nestling comfortably in my mind's eye. There weren't many people in the world I could even share these experiences with, aside of John, Veronica, and Danny; sitting there in Freddie's house, in the presence of someone else who was there, and therefore within conceivable distance of believing me, was enough to make me let it all out in one careless blurt.

"Yes!" I cried. "Straker was there, remember? And some guy from Elektra, and Paul, and Freddie- Straker sang 'Big Yellow Taxi' that night!"

Her eyes didn't change. "Oh, yes- and you sang too. Didn't you?"

"I did." That was all I wanted to say regarding that; I didn't want to chance tripping over that complicated moment immediately following my song. "But these were what you guys were drinking from after dinner. I remember washing these after you all were gone- and that one time when he brought tea up to the room and we drank it in b-"

I cut myself off before I could finish the word "bed." Not that it made any difference. Mary's lips pursed a bit, then relaxed when Danny called down, breaking the spell, "Mommy, she likes me now!"

"Who? The cat?"

"Uh-huh. Look!" Seconds later he appeared on the overhead balcony, cradling a defeated Felicity awkwardly in his arms.

"She doesn't look very comfortable, sweetie," I said.

"Nah, she likes thi-" he began to assure me when the cat suddenly went into a spasm and wormed her way out of his grasp, darting out of sight. Instead of getting frustrated, though, Danny just let out another bubbly laugh and ran after her. What could I do but laugh myself.

"He's really a darling little boy," Mary remarked. "He must be a delight."

"Usually," I replied. "He has his moments, but for the most part, he's the absolute light of my world."

She nodded a bit absently. "His eyes are beautiful. Did he get them from his father?"

"He did- along with his hair, and his ears. His feet, too; they have the same big toes." I loved to take inventory of all the things Danny inherited from my prince.

"What was his name?" Mary asked.

"Who? Danny's father?"

"Yes."

I frowned. "I- thought we discussed this yester-"

"I know, but- I want you to say the words, I need to hear them. I need you to actually state for certain what you somewhat implied yesterday- and then I want to go from there."

Mary's voice was flattening again; now that Danny was confirmed to be out of earshot, she could shed the act in good conscience, it seemed. She regarded me with those expressionless eyes. "Tell me, Eve-"

"My name is Julia. You don't have to call-"

"Whatever. Tell me now: who is Danny's father?"

I swallowed hard. "Freddie."

"Mercury?"

"The same."

"I see." She looked down into her half-full cup, preventing me from reading her expression. "So- how is that possible exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

Mary lifted her face, which seemed harder now, albeit less pale. "How is it that boy is so young, even though it's been thirty and a half years since Freddie died?"

I nodded. "Doesn't seem to add up, does it?"

"Seem to? It makes no sense at all! I mean- how did it happen? How is he still a child- and how is it, that you as you were forty years ago- are the same as you are now?"

"I just am."

"You just are." She scoffed. "And what is it, then, that you are?"

I drew a heavy sigh. "I know this is the last thing you want to hear- but not only is it a very long story, it's one I cannot tell."

"I don't want a story. I want an answer. Who are you, is all I'm asking for. Can you give me that much?"

"I'm a human being," I said wearily. "I'm a regular old human being, that is all."

"One that hasn't aged in forty-five years."

"Again, it's a long-"

"I only ask, really, because- because of something Freddie once said."

I set my cup and saucer down. "What did he say?"

"He, uh," Mary murmured, her voice growing so soft I almost couldn't make the words out, "he- told me once, somewhat toward the end, that- he felt like he was being watched."

My throat tightened, but my tone stayed level. "I- imagine he felt that way a lot."

"No, I don't mean in the sense of fame or anything." Mary cleared her throat. "He was- very vulnerable in that last couple of months, spent a lot of time in bed because he couldn't do much of anything else- so he had the time I suppose to do a lot of thinking. And- one morning while I was visiting him, and we were talking about something, I don't remember what- but all of a sudden, he sort of fiddled with his ring a bit, and then he asked, 'Is it silly, you think?'

"I said, 'Is what silly?'

"And he said, 'That perhaps- she was my fravashi?'"

I cocked my head. "What is a fravashi?"

"That's what I asked him- but he didn't answer, Delilah had just hopped up on the bed and he started petting her, talking about something else. I didn't think about it for a long time until I saw you yesterday- and I looked the word up."

I sat quietly, waiting for her to explain- and sure enough, she did. "It would seem that a fravashi is something that Zoroastrians believe in- that was the religion he was raised in, as I'm sure you know."

"Yes, I do- but I don't know every little thing about it."

"Neither do I. Freddie didn't speak much about his faith, to me anyway; he always sort of swept it under the rug on the rare occasion it came up. But- apparently, a fravashi is some kind of guardian angel- a 'spiritual guide', I think it said- basically a person's conscience that's supposed to, I guess, help keep someone on the path of good thoughts, good words, and good deeds. There's more to it of course, but that was the main idea."

My jaw fell a little slack, my nose cramping ever so slightly. Good Lord, I couldn't count how many times Freddie had referred to me as "angel" back then, but I never knew there was a concept in Zoroastrianism itself that referred to a literal, spiritual protector- or fathomed that Freddie could have found it in himself, even after what I did to him, to compare me to something so holy, and so beautiful.

Could it be he did forgive me after all? I asked myself- and made the mistake of letting my guard down a bit to make room for a little smidgen of hope.

Still, to be on the safe side, aloud I asked, "What's that got to do with me, though?"

"I don't see how he could have been referring to anyone else."

"Well- he might have been talking about his mother, or Montserrat- or maybe even Babs-"

"Then he would have called them by name, and quite comfortably. He almost never mentioned you after you left, almost never spoke of you- and the one or two moments he did, never once did he refer to you as anything but 'she', or 'her.'"

I didn't quite know how to take that. "I - guess that means he forgot my name," I said, in what was supposed to be a dismissive tone. "It's just as well, I wasn't with him long-"

"No. That's not what it meant."

On reflex I clutched at my chest; I hadn't expected those green eyes to flash so frightfully. "Then, what?"

Mary took one last sip, set the cup down on the table, and folded her hands so tightly across her stomach that the knuckles turned white. And her voice, so cool and frank up till now, shivered.

"He called you his fravashi, Eve," she whispered. "He called you his guardian angel, for God's sake. I would not be surprised if you were in his thoughts half of his waking hours. He did not need to speak your name because he had it engraved there in his mind from the moment you met him. He knew who he meant; and that was enough."

"You don't know he was talking about me!" I protested, while deep down inside my heart couldn't seem to decide whether to melt, or shatter. "You said yourself- and anyway- didn't he call all his guy friends by girl's - by drag names? Maybe-"

"Don't be ridiculous. You know what I mean. I can see it in your eyes. Stop acting so falsely modest and accept it: he was talking about you."

I bit my lip, looked down at my lap, hoping the tears would stay under my lids where they belonged. "Again, I'll- take your word for it, Mary."

Neither of us said a word for a while. The only sounds were those of the clock on the wall, and Danny's soft, pattering footsteps above; I assumed he had grown bored of chasing Felicity around the house, and had set out to do some exploring.

"It's funny," Mary spoke at last, her voice completely flat. "Did you know, once I offered to have his baby- and he turned me down?"

What does this have to do with anything? "Yes, I'd heard that somewhere. I didn't know if it was true though."

"I'm afraid it is, actually." She swallowed, took her time to mull her words before continuing. "I-wanted to have his child so badly, Eve. I wanted to bear him a family, to be the mother of his children. I mean- I did have a family of my own. Two boys I wouldn't trade for the world. But I just... and Freddie didn't..."

While she fumbled around for the right words, I murmured the most comforting thing I could think of to say: "I understand, Mary."

The green eyes narrowed. "Do you?"

I was confused. Unnerved, too, but mostly confused. "I suppose."

"Ironic to hear you say that," Mary said dryly, "when you're the one who had his baby."

That one pierced a little too close to my heart; I didn't like where this was heading. A bit ungracefully, I reached for the teapot. "More tea, Mary?"

"You had his baby," she repeated. "You did. You! Of all the bloody people in the world, you!"

"Of all people? What do you mean?"

"I devoted my life to him," she went on, her voice never rising above an icy murmur. "I played whatever part he wanted me to- his friend, his accountant, and, until he became unsatisfied with me, even his lover- and in return, he left me this lovely house and most of his fortune, for which I am daily resented and ridiculed the world over. What did you ever do for Freddie?"

Trembling, I opened my mouth to answer, but she continued before I could say anything. "I'll tell you what you did. You gave him two weeks of trouble, left him knowing that he loved you, and don't even seem to be very sorry about it- it's you who has the child. Tell me, Eve, how is that fair?"

Fair?

Suddenly I understood. In a trice all John's warnings, all his admonitions, came rushing back to mind. I should have remembered how much stamina jealousy can hold, how time can serve to strengthen it rather than assuage it. And after all, hadn't Mary shown herself to be the jealous kind even way back when? I had witnessed it firsthand, I knew the things of which she was capable- yet I had placed myself, and my boy, right into the palms of her hands. And now my armor was crumbling, and crumbling fast.

"Mary, if anything it was probably an accident," I said quietly. "Freddie didn't want to be a father, he wasn't trying to make me have a baby, it was just- one of those things, I guess."

Her face was like stone. "Did he use protection?"

Against my will I heard his soft voice whisper into my mind all the mad, wonderful things he said to me that final night, and I gulped. "That's a- pretty personal question, don't you think?"

"It would be if I didn't know the answer already." She looked me over, hands tightening. "All I know is, he- he must have loved you. Very much."

"Perhaps he did, I really couldn't say," I whispered after a moment, wrapping my arms around my shuddering body. It had abruptly grown very chilly in the room. "All I know is the way I feel, and- I loved him. I still love him. I won't ever stop loving him- just like you won't, just like anyone else who ever knew him won't. I'm nothing new, I'm nothing special, it was a fluke that I had Danny and that's it.

"Either way, though, I'm sorry," I pleaded, clasping my hands together. "I'm so sorry. Please don't still be angry with me, I never tried to take anything away from you, ever. Things just- got so out of control so quickly. Regardless of what he said, and what you think, I'm not anything supernatural, I'm not an angel, I'm not his fravashi. I'm just a human being, nothing more; a stupid human being who lost her stupid head. No more, no less."

Mary didn't speak in the seconds immediately following my apology, nor did so much as one face muscle relax. Danny had stopped making noise upstairs, so the the house was plunged into a perfect emptiness- cold, dead, and silent, like a corpse.

Finally, with wide, uncertain eyes, I watched as she stood from the sofa, slid her hands slowly up and down her hips.

And then Mary murmured, "Oh, don't get me wrong, Eve; I know you weren't his fravashi."

I blinked. This didn't sound like forgiveness to me.

"After all," she said, "as far as I know- a fravashi does not just abandon their intended."

The words dug straight into my heart, pierced me from fore to aft. My guard was gone, my soul vulnerable, and she was going in for the kill. It had begun.

"Mary, I didn't abandon him-"

"Oh, but you did, Eve. Call it whatever you like, but you abandoned him- just like all the others did."

"No, I just- I didn't want to wreck- I didn't want to make him unhappy, or you unhappy, or-"

"None of that matters. None of it. The fact is, you knew something would happen to him down the line, somehow; you knew what his future would be. Didn't you?"

I shuddered. "No, I- I-"

"Of course you did; you could see things, you knew things, Freddie told me so himself. And instead of trying to save him, you left him. To die."

By some miracle I managed to rise to my feet, snatch up my phone. "Mary, I'm terribly sorry, but- Danny and I must be going." At the ceiling I shouted, "Danny! Come downstairs, sweetie!"

"You never did like the sound of the truth, did you, Eve?" she sighed. "Always running from it. Always afraid to face the music. Can't even accept that Freddie loved you as much as he could love anyone. Why is that? Does that make what you did to him easier to live with?"

"Mary, please-"

"You betrayed him, Eve. You lied to him and you left him."

Understand, that none of this was new. None of it. Mary was no original, and this was no exception. I told myself these things all the time- but for it to come from someone else, that confirmation of everything I charged myself with each and every desolate, sleepless night... I might as well have been hearing it from the lips of the Almighty Himself.

"Danny!" I called in a ragged voice. "Danny, come down, we're going!" Oh, God, make her stop, please, make her stop.

But Mary would not stop. "Just think, Eve. Just think what you could have been to him, had you cared enough. If you cared, you would have stayed with him- and Danny, sweet little Danny, would have a father- and Freddie, the man you said you loved, would not have died."

I wanted to cover my ears, run away screaming.

Mary shook her head. "But, let's be honest: you never really did care, did you?"

And then, a miracle happened.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

Danny's high-pitched scream echoed within this tomb of a house, startling us both.

"Danny!" I cried, racing up the stairs. "Hang on!"

I didn't have to go far to find him, but when I did, my destroyed heart managed to break even more. He ran out of some random bedroom and straight into my arms, burying his face in my stomach. Tears poured down his little cheeks while he babbled incoherently about something having scared him. Felicity lay indolently on the bed, watching us with a slowly twitching tail.

"Honey, what happened?" I whispered.

"Ghosts," was the only coherent word he managed. "Ghosts."

"You know something," I murmured, with a glare at Mary, who had followed me up, "I do believe you have something there, actually."

"I wanna go," he sobbed.

I nodded. "Don't worry, sweetie, we're about to."

Without another word I scooped Danny into my arms and hustled down the stairs, Mary still drifting along behind us like an apparition.

"Needless to say, Ms. Austin," I said, opening the door, "I have a feeling we won't be seeing each other again very soon."

"Shame," she whispered. "I had a lovely time."

I ground my teeth. "Good afternoon."

The last thing I saw of her, before I closed the door, was her smile. I don't know how to describe it any other way, save as triumphant.

Frantically I turned on my phone, waited as it started up so I could open up the Uber app and get out of this horrible place.

You were right, John. Hell hath no fury, they say, I told myself, trying to think of anything else besides what she had said to me.

But the damage was done.