A light came on in the hallway, glowing a warm gold in the arched window above the door. The door opened, and Dr Ellenby stood there, blinking in astonishment.
‘Mirabelle? Bertram? And Jem from London? To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘I have questions,’ said Mirabelle.
Dr Ellenby nodded, stood to one side and waved them in. ‘Then I shall endeavour to answer them.’
He led them through to his study.
‘Would you like a brandy?’ he asked.
Jem sat in a leather chair. There were framed photos on the mantle behind her, and bookcases lined three of the walls. Mirabelle sat in an armchair to Jem’s left, while Bertram sat next to Mirabelle. Dr Ellenby was behind his desk, holding up a bottle of brandy and a glass.
Jem was a bit confused about who the question was addressed to. The doctor’s eyes twinkled with good humour as he noted her confusion.
‘I meant, of course, those who are of an age to partake,’ he said.
Bertram raised a hand, and fished around in his jacket pocket before bringing out his notebook and pencil in readiness.
‘How’s Tom?’ asked Dr Ellenby while pouring some brandy.
‘Good, thank you, Doctor,’ said Jem. She liked the doctor; he exuded warmth and reassurance. You only had to look at his eyes to see that he was a kind man.
‘That’s a relief. I hear he had a little experience with Piglet.’
Jem wasn’t sure what to say. Mercifully, Mirabelle interrupted.
‘I had a similar experience, and I learned about some things, but I’d rather know more.’
Dr Ellenby regarded her for a moment as he passed the brandy to Bertram. Bertram snatched the glass with two hands, like an eager toddler grabbing a bottle of milk.
‘Mmm,’ said Bertram, smacking his lips loudly. He’d already downed his brandy and was holding the glass out for a second tot. ‘That was . . . well, I think it was lovely. I’m not sure.’ He put the glass on the desk and started to open his notebook on his lap. ‘What would you say were the constituent elements of the flavour of this brandy? Might it share any similarities with, say, that of egg, or indeed ice cream?’
Dr Ellenby’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he poured another brandy.
‘I think perhaps, Bertram, that someone else here might have questions of a more important nature.’
Bertram looked confused for a moment, then he glanced down the line at Jem and Mirabelle and wagged his pencil in the air.
‘Ah, yes, of course,’ he said. He turned back to scribbling in his notebook.
Dr Ellenby put his elbows up on the desk and joined his hands together.
‘Ask me anything, Mirabelle,’ he said.
‘What was her name?’ Mirabelle asked.
Jem noticed the way Dr Ellenby’s mouth twitched, and the sorrow in his blue eyes.
‘Alice. Your mother’s name was Alice,’ he said quietly.
There was silence in the room, broken only by the reassuring ticking of the grandfather clock behind Dr Ellenby.
‘She was lovely,’ said Bertram in an awestruck whisper. ‘Dr Ellenby thought so, didn’t you, Dr Ellenby?’
Dr Ellenby closed his eyes and gave a sigh, and Jem knew that kind of sigh. She knew the pain of loss when she saw it. He opened his eyes again and tried his best to smile, but she could tell it was difficult for him.
‘Yes, she was,’ he said.
‘Enoch thought so too,’ said Bertram raising his glass. ‘In fact, he was in love with her.’
Dr Ellenby plonked the brandy bottle in front of Bertram. ‘Take the bottle please, Bertram. Drink quietly, there’s a good chap.’
Bertram took the bottle gratefully and licked his lips.
‘Enoch was in love with her?’ said Mirabelle.
Jem noticed how completely still she was.
Dr Ellenby took off his glasses and cleaned them with a cloth. ‘Yes, he was.’
‘I see,’ said Mirabelle. ‘I saw him when Piglet’s mind touched mine. I saw lots of things. I saw you, Dr Ellenby. I saw you on the Path of Flowers. I saw you because Piglet saw you. You were leaving the house the night my mother died.’
Dr Ellenby paused in cleaning his glasses. He put them on slowly and sighed, and now Jem saw the regret and grief in his eyes.
‘Yes,’ he said hoarsely.
‘She was beautiful,’ said Mirabelle. ‘What happened to her?’
‘She died from blood loss during childbirth,’ said the doctor.
‘Giving birth to me.’
Dr Ellenby shook his head. ‘Now you mustn’t think like that, Mirabelle. It wasn’t your fault.’
Mirabelle nodded. ‘It wasn’t yours either.’
‘That’s what we kept telling him at the time,’ Bertram said.
‘Where did she come from?’ asked Mirabelle.
Mirabelle was poised, her back straight with tension as she waited for the answer.
‘She came to the house for sanctuary, as some have done before. Except this time she wasn’t one of the Family. She was human. She came to me first because she’d heard I was trusted by the Family, and so I brought her to the house.’
‘And Enoch let her stay. Why?’
Dr Ellenby and Bertram exchanged a glance.
Dr Ellenby tapped the table. ‘Because Enoch always felt responsible for those of his kind. Your mother was human, Mirabelle, but your father was a member of the Family. This meant you would be a member of the Family too. No one who is of the Family has ever been turned away.’
Mirabelle nodded, and she frowned as she took in the information. ‘I understand. But tell me, who was my father? Where is he now?’
Dr Ellenby threw up his hands. ‘Nobody knows. She rarely spoke of him. All she could tell us was that he was a member of the Family who had chosen a life in the human world. For all we know he may still be out there somewhere.’
‘And why did nobody tell me all this?’
Dr Ellenby and Bertram exchanged another look.
‘Because Enoch forbade it. He made a solemn promise
