It was after he had left them that Gilly turned to their keeper. 'Mrs. Beckinsale, can you tell us yet? What are we going to do?'

Mrs. Beckinsale sighed. Her tired eyes glanced first at Gilly and then at Elizabeth. They saw the anxiety in her face, but the spark of cunning too.

'It's taken me some long thinkin' on, I can tell y' that,' she replied.

'We're very grateful, Mrs. Beckinsale,' Elizabeth assured her.

‘I don't want y' gratitude,' Mrs. Beckinsale said to them. T just want t' know that child has a good chance.'

Gathering them to her, she told them her plan.

Later, Elizabeth and Gilly sat in the gloom of the day room in the evening, holding hands and looking at each other with frightened eyes. This was going to require more of them than they could have suspected. Yet underneath the anxiety was excitement, joy, and a grim determination.

Both of them jumped when Mrs. Beckinsale opened the door, followed into the room by two women, both of similar height and plumpness. Gilly dropped Elizabeth's hand and rose to her feet, as if they had been caught conspiring. 'These are Mary and Constance Dunne,' Mrs. Beckinsale announced, her eyes keen on Gilly. 'Make sure they get settled.' She left them then.

The two sisters looked around them nervously. They seemed vaguely intimidated, rather than frightened. Gilly and Elizabeth, their seclusion shattered, were silent. Then Elizabeth recalled her own first moments in the gaol and spoke out, 'Hello. I'm Elizabeth Cooper and this is Gilly Stevens. It's not so bad once you get to know it.' She heard the lie in her own words. It was so bad; it was only that she had Gilly now.

Mary Dunne, who was the slightly stouter of the two dark-haired women, looked back at her, and then at Gilly. 'Are you all there is then?' she asked, with remarkable composure.

'Yes,' Elizabeth told her.

'Cozy, ain't it?' Mary scoffed. Her harsh accent and apparent lack of concern for her new situation grated with Elizabeth. She saw the tightening of Gilly's shoulders and knew her friend felt the same. Why had they had to come? And tonight of all nights, when there were plans to be discussed in fearful whispers.

'Before y' ask, I'll tell y',' Mary said.

I wasn't going to ask, Elizabeth thought.

'We're here 'cause we tricked the old dear we worked for into payin' us double every week. Poor thing didn't know one day from the next, had no idea 'til her son came back from India or wherever the hell it was.' Dreadful pride in her voice. Elizabeth looked away from her, to her sister, clearly younger, who had begun to tremble.

'I've been in gaol before meself, but up in Leeds. They was goin' to transport me then, but they let me out, when it was proved it wasn't me that did it.' Mocking laughter. 'Of course, it's fair enough this time, I s'pose we're off to Australia. Was touch and go, Conny 'ere was sure we were bound for the rope, but I told her we was lucky, always were.'

Injustice made her mouth bitter. Gilly's silence told her how the other woman felt. She wanted to scream at them, tell them to leave her and Gilly to themselves. But the doors and gates were locked and the two women were part of their lives now inescapably.

Constance, the younger girl, was staring at Elizabeth, as she struggled for a response. Elizabeth looked back at her, wondering what part in her sister's crime she had taken, and pitied her. Then Constance, still staring, took a breath and spoke in amazement, 'Say, are you with child?' Elizabeth clutched her hands to her belly, oddly defensive. 'How'd they cope with that in 'ere?'

Elizabeth looked at her blankly. She saw herself in Constance Dunne's eyes and shuddered. A fellow convict, with no regret of the crime other than that she had been caught, no doubt the child inside her before she'd even entered the gaol, probably as she'd committed the crime. But the truth was long and twisted, and it was Gilly's to keep.

'They manage well enough,' she said shortly. 'I'll show you where we sleep, shall I?'

2008

The tour didn't get any farther than the bedroom, not that there was anything of the flat worth seeing. Looking at Aly sitting on my sofa, drinking the morning coffee I had made her, I wondered how I had ever felt angry with her. The sun streamed in through the dusty window, and she was casually slumped, one foot on the coffee table, squinting a little in the brightness. I remembered snapshots of the night in my dark bedroom and I closed my eyes, growing warm. I opened them and she was still there. I'd take on the world, and I'd do it holding her hand. I could almost have picked up the phone and told my mum there and then. Almost.

I saw her glance up at the clock on the wall above the television. She turned to me. 'I've gotta go,' she said, and I was pleased that her words sounded partially reluctant. 'I've got to get home, get changed, and get my portfolio and stuff, then get back into town before nine.'

I knew she had a meeting with an independent book publisher, who were thinking of asking her to take photographs for the covers of their books. She was excited at the prospect, and her mind was already half on the interview she would have with them. I didn't mind, I was simply happy to share her anticipation with her.

She stood up and brought me her empty coffee cup. 'Thanks for the coffee,' she said, though her eyes said far more.

'You're welcome,' I replied, leaning in to her lingering kiss.

'Until later?' she said, finally pulling away.

'Yes,' I said. 'Hey, you know you're in town later?'

'Yes?'

'How about a museum visit?' I don't know what had given me the idea. I think I wanted to prove that, after last night, I wanted to see her in public. Perhaps I just wanted to share more of the everyday of my life with her? Maybe I wanted to let my real life reach inside the confines of the gaol for once.

'You mean come and let you hang me?' She smiled.

'Something like that. You can get in free—if you say you're coming, I'll tell them to expect you. I get so many free tickets a year.'

'Well, since it's free,' she said, smiling. 'If I come in the afternoon, at about two, that okay?'

'Yep, should be,' I affirmed.

'We can make more plans then,' she said.

'Sounds good to me.' I put the cup down and drew her towards me for one last kiss, before, slotting her mobile phone into her pocket, she left.

Five minutes later, I was dressed and smiling to myself in the mirror as I brushed my hair, when I heard an almighty crash from the direction of the living room. With no idea what could have possibly made such a destructive sound, I rushed through to see my window with a gaping hole in it, cracks radiating into the glass that remained in the frame. The curtain was flapping softly in the breeze and there were shards of splintered glass shining in the sunlight all over the carpet. What the fuck?

For a moment I couldn't work it out at all. Windows didn't just break. I looked at the sparkling glass in bewilderment, my heart thudding. Then I noticed a large stone, smooth, round and grey, just beneath the corner of the coffee table. Amazed, I tiptoed between the pieces of glass and picked it up. It was heavy, but certainly could have been hurled through my window. I looked at it contemplatively, about to curse the stupid louts that thought this sort of thing was funny, when I turned it over in my hand. On the other side of the stone was a word written in red marker pen, in block capitals: dyke.

I stared at it, and the fear rose in me. This was no random, because-I-was-bored act of vandalism. The stone had been aimed at my window, and with a message for me. But so few people knew. Yes, I admitted to myself, a whole pub full of strangers knew now, but it wasn't like they had any idea where I lived. My mind raced, searching for answers. I thought of the drunken man we'd confronted. He'd still been in the pub when I'd left, I was sure I'd have known if he'd followed me. Besides, he was probably too drunk to remember the scene he'd caused last night. It was a puzzle, but it was a disturbing one. I felt sick.

My first impulse was to call Aly. However, my hand paused as I reached for the phone. After last night, I didn't want to pose any more problems. She had an interview to deal with later too; I couldn't put this upon her now. I realized I was still clutching the stone. I placed it on the coffee table, turning it so that I could not see the writing, and thought for a moment. I had to call the agency I rented through, inform them. I dug out the number, trying to ignore those red, accusing letters and the way my hands were shaking.

In the end, I had to call work and tell them I'd not be able to get there until lunchtime. I had to wait in for the agency representative, who also dealt with the insurance on behalf of the landlord, and then the man who came to board over the window until it could be replaced later in the week. The wooden board cast an odd shadow over my living room. The stone still sat where I had left it on my coffee table. The representative had simply glanced at it, as if to check what I said was true, but to my relief he'd not wanted to study it. 'Must've been kids,' he'd muttered, frowning over his notes. I'd been terrified he'd see the word on the other side, and not only judge me, but tell me this whole thing was my fault and I'd have to pay for the damage myself.

I stuck to the story that it had been kids when I got to work and met with concerned enquiries. The truth was impossible to tell. Besides, I couldn't work out what the hell the truth was. Mystified, I almost began to believe my own lie. It could've been kids, entirely at random. It could just be coincidence. Of course, I couldn't completely convince myself.

I was glad to be at work, not sitting at home in the shade of the boarded-up window. But the shadows of the yard seemed longer today, the dank corners deeper and darker. The gallows structure had taken to creaking in a disturbing fashion more suited to a horror movie, as the wood was heated by the sun. Somewhere, a gate kept clanking against its fastenings, as though a prisoner was rattling the bars, and, in the transportation exhibition, the tape which played a voice-over of the stories of some of those transported stopped working. It was as if the whole building and its props were as unsettled as I was. I wondered if the layers of history were trying to tell me something again, or if maybe I was simply adding my own nervous energy to all the other energies the bricks must have absorbed over the centuries. I heard no unexplained noises, experienced no pain, but somehow a sense of foreboding crept into my heart, and I felt as though it came not just from me and my broken window, but that the building around me infused me with it.

When the concealed phone in the transportation exhibition rang at nearly two o'clock, I leapt out of my skin. I had been leaning against the wall in the shade, considering the rows of windows on the back of the building, trying to work out which of the rooms I had been in, for the sake of occupying my mind. I crossed the yard quickly, curious as to why it was ringing.

'Hello, Jen,' Jim's voice said on the other end, when I put the receiver to my ear. 'There's a woman here says she's come to see you?' Aly. I'd not forgotten she was coming, in fact I was looking forward to her appearance with some pleasure, even through my anxiety, only I had not kept track of the time, since I wasn't used to starting work at lunchtime. I remembered now that I'd said nothing to Jim about her visit, being too busy explaining the calamity of the kids and the window. I felt better instantly, at the thought of having her with me in a few minutes.

'Oh, sorry, Jim. I forgot, with the window and everything,' I said into the receiver. 'Yes, she's my—er—friend, Aly.'

'Okay then, I'll send her for the tour first shall I?' Much as I wanted her here now, I quite liked the idea of Aly taking the whole tour.

'Might as well,' I said. 'Thanks, Jim. Anyone else in?'

'Yes, there's a family of four about to go into court, I'll send your friend through with them.'

'Okay, thanks, bye,' I said, replacing the receiver and closing the little cupboard that concealed it. I went to wait in the shadows, for when she would arrive. The incessant clanging of the distant gate had stopped, and the shadows were back in proportion again. The gallows still creaked unnervingly, but I was able to block it out of my hearing. I pondered on how powerful imagination was. With my change of mood, the whole character of the yard had been transformed.

I laughed to myself as I heard the cell door above slam, imagining Aly in the cell. Would she be interested or nonplussed? I thought about her in the laundry, looking at the dolly tubs, imagined what she would make of the women's communal bed. Then there were the footsteps in the tunnel that led to the yard. First, blinking in the sunlight, doubting a little whether they really had seen me, all in black and in the shadows as I was, came two young boys, both around the age often, maybe twins. Their mother and father followed, cautioning them quietly not to run, and drawing their attention to the lady, as I moved from the shadows and startled them.

Aly followed them out of the tunnel. I looked past them quickly, letting my eyes linger on her welcome face for a brief moment. I wished as soon as I saw her that I'd just asked Jim to send her down alone. There was so much I wanted to say to her. But I had a performance to conduct.

Self-conscious as I felt Aly's eyes on me, I went through the motions of stick waving and execution threatening. The boys were delighted with the concept of the bodies buried under the flagstones, and I thought even Aly seemed interested in what I had to say. Looking at her standing there, I couldn't help but wonder what the family thought of their companion on the tour. She was dressed in what I assumed was her interview outfit; black smart trousers and a black velvet jacket worn over a sleeveless top, carrying a black leather briefcase, which looked so professional and formal that it made me want to laugh. All on her own, she wasn't at all like a typical museum visitor. I wondered what Jim had made of her at reception.

When I sent the family down to examine the pits and dark cells, Aly lingered behind. I guess they thought she wanted to ask me a question. As soon as they had disappeared into the shadows, I went to her and took her hand in both of mine. I kissed her quickly, not wanting to risk more.

'Well, look at you,' she said, before I could speak, gesturing to my costume. 'You can imprison me any time, ma'am.' I smiled at her and blushed. I loved the fact that she was here, in my exercise yard. It was almost like having her in my flat. I spent as many God damn hours here after all.

'What do you think of it?' I said, holding off on what I really wanted to tell her, since she seemed so happy.

'It's interesting,' she said, 'and it's a bloody kinky sort of a place too, I can see the appeal.' I rolled my eyes at her irreverence towards the history, but laughed all the same.

'Can I take it the interview went well?' I asked, guessing as much from her playful mood.

'We're doing a shoot next week,' she said, and I could hear the pride in her voice, 'for two books. If they like them, then they'll think about some sort of contract.'

'They'll love them, I'm sure,' I assured her.

'Fingers crossed,' she said. 'How's your day going?' She must have seen the anxiety return to my face as she asked, because before I could say anything she demanded, 'What's wrong?' and her smile was replaced by concern.

I was silent for a moment, deliberating how best to put it. It was not the best chosen way when I began, 'Should it be this hard, Aly?'

I saw the worry in her expression then. I think she wondered if my fears of the previous night had returned in the short hours since she had left me. 'What do you mean?' she demanded, an edge of hostility in her tone.

'I mean, I thought we lived in enlightened times. I thought I'd have problems telling my family, but not that perfect strangers would throw rocks through my window.' I drew a shaky breath and clenched my fists to repress the surge of disquiet that swept through me.

'What?' she asked. 'Someone actually did that? How do you know it wasn't kids?' I told her about the word on the rock, and shared my bewilderment with her.

'Who knows about us?' I said fretfully.

'I haven't told anyone,' she said, slightly defensive, 'and besides, it has to be someone who knows where you live.'

'But there isn't anyone!' I said.

I heard a scuffle as the boys emerged from the entrance to the pits, followed by their parents. Aly was silent and I composed myself, in order to send the family to Australia. Aly walked with us along the yard, as though she was still interested in the tour. The moment they had gone however, she turned to me, taking my hand again.

'Look, I'll think about it, but I really don't know who it could be. Maybe someone that knows me and saw me coming out of your door? It could be meant for me, not you. That's more likely.' Her words were not reassuring, 'But who the hell would want to throw a brick through your window?' I demanded.

'Actually, I don't know,' she replied, thinking. 'But there's people just take offence to the way I look, y' know.'

'The way you look?' I was surprised.

'Yeah,' she was remarkably casual about it. 'You wouldn't believe the comments sometimes. Though calling me a dyke's not a huge insult.' She laughed, but I could see the resentment in her eyes. 'You know, cut your hair and wear trousers and you must want to actually be a man, which makes you a freak and means people can say what they like about you.' She shrugged, though I heard the bitterness behind the words.

‘I can't be as relaxed about it as you,' I told her.

'You get used to it,' she replied, then seeing my alarmed expression, added quickly, 'not that things like this happen a lot. I don't mean you get used to bricks though your window. But the names are water off a duck's back in the end. Besides, you look regular enough, you won't get it. Unless you're with me, of course.' She smiled at this. I couldn't quite return the gesture.

'If you're worried about going home on your own, come and stay with me tonight if you want,' she offered.

'That'd be great, if you're sure,' I accepted eagerly. I could be with her and feel safe. I didn't want to be behind my boarded-up window, remembering the glass shattered all over the floor.

'Course I am. It's not like you're just a random damsel in distress,' she said. 'Shall I meet you outside at half-past four? I've got some shopping to do before then, and we can get the bus together.'

'Sounds good,' I said. Quickly I leaned in and kissed her. She put her hand on the back of my neck and held the kiss longer than I would have done, knowing the family would soon be done in the exhibition. My knees felt weak. She released me moments before one of the boys came shuffling out of the doors.

I sent them all into the Victorian prison, Aly included. She winked obviously as she disappeared through the archway and left me smiling, despite the undercurrent of apprehension I couldn't quite escape.