I’d tossed and turned all night unable to find sleep and when I eventually did, I was awake by dawn. I tip-toed into Zackary’s room and found him sleeping soundly. Not wanting to disturb him, I used the servants’ stairs where I wouldn’t be seen by anybody and slipped into the kitchen. Mrs. Blackmore was already up and working the mix for her famous American style thick pancakes.

At the sight of my groggy eyes, she laughed and went to the coffee maker. A cup of steaming coffee was put in front of me. I showered her with a smile of gratitude.

“Hard night for us all,” she said as I took a sip of the divine liquid. “The police brought Mrs. King home.”

My eyes popped open. “What?” I cried.

“All I know is Carrie said she heard them arrive at about 4.00 a.m. Mr. Boothworth met them outside,” she said. “I’m waiting on him to come in for breakfast and give us the lowdown.”

Before I could say anything Mr. Boothsworth arrived impeccably dressed in his official uniform.

“I’ll have a batch of those, Mrs. Blackmore,” he said, “but with yoghurt instead of chocolate.”

Mrs. Blackmore looked like she was about to refuse, but must have remembered the information she was about to extract, so nodded in agreement. “Of course, Mr. Boothsworth.” She smiled broadly. “What happened last night? I heard that even Mr. King came down to attend to the police.”

Glancing at my steaming mug of coffee, he decided to extract one more request. “A cup of Earl Grey would be a dream this morning,” he said at no one.

I had to drop my face to my cup to hide my amusement. They were such a pair. It was a shame they were not together.

With a blank face, Mrs. Blackmore made him a cup and plopped it hard enough before him to make a little liquid slop out of the side. His response was to jerk away exaggeratedly as if he was saving himself from burns. Again, it made me suspect that Melly was right. Something had happened between them and it was unresolved and itching to be scratched.

Calmly, he took a sip from his drink before making his announcement. “Mrs. King was involved in an accident in the wee hours of this morning.”

The humorous situation dissipated instantly. Both Mrs. Blackmore and I froze.

Mr. Boothsworth put his cup down. “Fortunately, she came out rather almost unscathed, but her … um,” he cleared his throat, “male companion was knocked unconscious when the vehicle rammed into a street pole. They rushed him to the hospital. It doesn’t seem too severe. At least I hope it isn’t.”

“How is Madam now?” Mrs. Blackmore asked worriedly.

“Needed a stitch on her forehead, which she has just been hysterical about, but no doubt, it’ll pass.”

“How weird because Zackary had a nightmare during the night,” Mrs. Blackmore said. “He dreamt his mother was in an accident and wouldn’t stop crying. We even had to ask Mr. King to come over.”

Mr. Boothsworth stopped sipping from his cup and turned to the both of us, his eyes wide and suspicious, as if he suspected us of trying to trick him. For a brief moment, he bore a striking resemblance to Lurch from the Addams family, and although there was nothing funny about what had happened, I had to bite back a smile.

“How could the child know?” he asked bewildered. He leaned towards me. “Does he have some sort of—”

“Don’t talk such nonsense,” Mrs. Blackmore instantly shut him down.

“Why?” he retorted. “I’d like to know how the boy knew.”

“Most children have better intuition than adults do,” I said, the explanation sounded silly, but it was definitely a very odd coincidence.

Mr. Blackmore was scornful. “That doesn't explain anything.”

The door to the kitchen swung open then and in came Bella, one of the maids. She was dressed in the white apron and striped green uniform of the mansion.

“It seems to be an early morning for everyone,” Mrs. Blackmore noted to the brunette.

She had come to deliver messages from Mrs. King. She addressed me first. “Mrs. King … wants you to take Zackary to her as soon as you can.”

“Sure. I’ll go wake him up,” I said, finishing my coffee.

She turned to Mrs. Blackmore. “Also, she wants her usual breakfast of dry toast with a scraping of butter, and a cup of tea, Mrs. Blackmore. Please hurry up, because she is like a bear with a sore head this morning.

I took the old wooden stairs two at a time. I guess I was eager to see the relations between mother and child. Part of me still couldn’t quite believe how Zackary could have known his mother was in danger the previous evening, but the fact it happened was pretty amazing. Anyway, as much as I disliked her I was glad for Zackary’s sake she had returned unscathed. It would have otherwise been a very different atmosphere in the castle and the poor child didn’t need another problem on his little plate.

I quickly woke him up and told him his mother wanted to see him. He hopped out of bed in his eagerness to be with her. I stood back and watched him comb his hair carefully, then we set off for his mother’s wing. I knocked softly on her door and smiled encouragingly at him. When she bade us enter I pushed open the door.

She was lying in bed in a pretty nightgown with a matching gown. There was a plaster on her left forehead very close to her hairline, and another on her elbow, but otherwise she looked as fit as a fiddle.

“Oh, darling,” she cried, opening her pale arms. “Come to Mummy. I heard you had an awful nightmare last night, you poor little thing.”

The boy ran up to her, scrambled on the bed, and settled happily against her body. They were exactly the same shade of blonde. With him enclosed in her arms she turned her hostile eyes up to me. “You may leave now. Come and pick him up in about half an hour.”

I was actually going to say something nice to her, but I realized she hated me and nothing I was going to do, or say was going to change that. Anyway, she wasn’t my favorite person either.

“Okay, I’ll be back in half an hour,” I said, and walked out of her bedroom. I took a couple of steps away from her door, but then, something made me stop. I knew I could get caught, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had to know. There was something very wrong about the situation in this household, I was pretty certain it was being deliberately fostered. I went back to her door and put my ear against the keyhole.

"I was so scared, sweetheart. It was horrible. Just horrible. I mean I could have died last night,” she was saying.

“No, Mummy,” Zackary gasped.

“I’m afraid so, darling. You almost became an orphan last night.”

Zackary began to cry softly. “I don’t want you to die, Mummy.”

“Well, I was lucky this time. An angel sat on my shoulder and protected me, because little Zackary needs a Mummy.”

“What’s that then?”

“Oh that. It was just a little stitch.”

"Will you have ugly scars like Daddy?" he asked.

"Don’t worry, I won't turn into an ugly monster like Daddy. I love you and I’ll never stop loving you no matter what.”

“How do you know Daddy doesn’t love us?”

“For instance: weren't you scared last night when you thought I almost died?”

I heard a sniff and I assumed he nodded because she carried on. “Don't cry again my dear. You were happy to see me because you care for me, but daddy didn't even bother to ask me how I felt, or how I was doing. Isn't that terribly mean of him?"

There was no response. "Why doesn’t Daddy love us?"

"He used to," she said, "but that's the thing about accidents, they change people. It made not only his face but also his heart ugly. It’s not his fault, he can’t help the way he is, but that is why I can never trust him to be alone with you. You won’t ever stay in the same room as Daddy, will you?"

"What about if Charlotte is in the room?" Zackary asked.

At that moment I heard footsteps in the corridor and I quickly straightened and walked away. It was Melly, balancing some bags of shopping and a thick file.

“You still on for tonight, right?” she asked.

“Definitely,” I said, smiling broadly, even though my heart was thumping in my chest. If what I had heard was an example of how Mrs. King interacted with the boy in private then, it was no wonder at all that the boy was not only terrified of his father, but also paranoid about her. In one short conversation she had managed to poison the child against his father and make it appear as if she could die at any moment and he could lose her forever.