park, but not here. No one
was out of place here.
"Mornin', Jasmine," Aaron said. He had a pack slung across his back and now he brought it down,
unzipped it, and produced a bottle of water. "Here's for you," he said, handing it over, "and I've got a bunch
more. Give 'em to whoever."
Jazz touched his hand. "Thanks, Aaron. You're a good one."
He shrugged and glanced away, almost sheepish.
Jazz took a long sip from the water and looked at the gathering again. A homeless woman, perhaps
forty-five but looking sixty, met her gaze with damp blue eyes. The woman reached up and tucked a long
strand of greasy hair behind one ear, a gesture that reminded Jazz that once the woman had been an
ordinary girl with the usual concerns —school and boys and clothes.
"What's your name?"
"Peg."
"Hello, Peg."
The woman smiled so gratefully it nearly broke Jazz's heart.
"What's on your mind?" she asked.
Peg lowered her gaze a moment, then looked up. "It's my sister, love. She and her husband lived in a
flat in Battersea. When things took a turn for the worse for me, I was too embarrassed to ask for help.
Hadn't talked to her in years. Had a falling out, you see. Two, three years ago, I fi-nally realized how stupid
I'd been, what I let happen to me-self, you see. Went to try to find her, but they'd moved. Don't know if
she's still in the city or even still alive, but —" Jazz smiled and reached out for her hand. Peg rose and
clutched at her fingers, trying to stifle her hope.
"You know the address where she used to live?"
"Twenty-seven Watford Close."
A shiver went through Jazz, as though a chill wind had passed through Regent's Park, but the sun still
shone warmly down and the Indian summer heat would not have been abated by a simple breeze. She
closed her eyes, and in her mind's eye she raced across the city, through alleys and over rooftops, into the
Underground and all the way out to Bromley.
A twinge of sadness touched her heart.
"Your sister's husband has been dead five years, Peg. Cancer. But Polly herself is still alive and
living in a flat in Bromley." She took up a notebook that lay on the wall be-side her and scribbled the
address down, ripped off the page, and handed it to the woman.
Peg took the page and stared at her writing, lips moving as she read the address to herself. She
shook her head as though she could hardly believe it, and then a tentative smile touched her lips.
"Oh, love, you've no idea what this means."
But Jazz knew exactly what it meant. "Good luck," she said.
Peg took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Thank you, dear. Thank you so very much."
She hurried away. Jazz watched her go, but as she did, something colorful caught her eye. Coming to
join the small gathering was a young girl wearing a pretty wide-brimmed hat with fake flowers tied to a
ribbon around the crown. It looked like something the queen would have worn in the 1980s.
Jazz and the girl saw each other's faces at the same mo-ment. The girl's expression changed from
that familiar, ten-tatively curious look to one of recognition and surprise.
"Hattie," Jazz whispered.
The girl took a step back, as though deciding whether or not to run away. Jazz slid off the wall and
started toward her, leaving the others behind. "Hattie!" she called.
Then Hattie was moving toward her as well. Laughing, they ran up to each other and embraced,
spinning around.
"Jazz," Hattie said. "Oh, Jazz, I missed you."
They held each other at arm's length then, and Jazz saw that Hattie's nose had been broken and not
healed properly and her smile was absent two teeth, all the remnants of the beating she had sustained that
night in the tunnels.
"I love your hat," Jazz said.
Hattie kissed her nose, then pulled her in for a tighter hug. "I heard whispers about this oracle in
Regent's Park. Got me thinking if the story was true, about this girl who could find anything in the city,
maybe she could help me find you. I missed you so much."
Playfully, Hattie pushed Jazz away. "But I never imag-ined she'd be you!"
Jazz faltered then, her smile fading. "I'm sorry, Hattie. I should've come to see you. But after what
happened, I couldn't go back down there. I don't belong in the Underground anymore. No more hiding in the
dark."
Hattie nodded. "I know. That's what Harry said. He told us you weren't coming back. But I missed
you."
Jazz took the girl's hands in hers. "I've missed you too."
Harry had survived, though he was still recovering, bro-ken
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