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As we walked down Piccadilly she kept taking a nip from my bottle, before we reached Green Park she was distinctly squiffy. Entering the park I tossed...the empty bottle into some bushes. ‘Gorranother drinky?’ She demanded slurring her words. I fished in the deep pouch pocket of my Walking-out uniform jacket and produced another bottle of gin, some horrible no name blended stuff that claimed to be Plymouth Gin – the stuff that burns the lining of your guts, and is probably closer to aviation fuel. She paused for a few minutes before saying, "Meet me at the library at 10, I think we have to check up on this" I was about to moan, go to a library on a Saturday, when I could be doing so much outside, like... or... well there was... Nothing to do anyway!"Okay Kate, I'll be there." I said. I went back to my breakfast, but I was thinking over the meal, what if Cassandra and Darcy were, well whatever they were, they must have been alive at one stage, so there would be a grave for them, I knew. More

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