***

When Viola opened her eyes, pale Winter sunshine was weakly streaming into her window. She realised she must have slept through her alarm, and she sat up sharply. Her head was heavy, and her mouth was unpleasantly dry. She grabbed her phone and stared at the screen. It was half past eight. There were also eleven texts, and she quickly opened the first one. It was from Fenton telling her he would take care of her patients and that she needed to rest. 'Proud of being your colleague,' he added at the end, and Viola felt her heart flutter. The rest of the texts were from various Holyoakes showering her with their gratitude; from Yola, expressing her concern and asking Viola to ring her up; and from Klaus, whose number she didn't have but thankfully he'd sighed his text. He was asking her to text him back, and she frowned in confusion. The last text was from Rhys, who was telling her he was going to the hospital to visit Nana in the morning and asking if she wanted to go with, or alternatively whether she wanted to know when he'd be there to avoid him. He also promised to text her how Nana was, after his visit. Viola lay down again, stretching under her duvet. She wasn't comfortable, though. She never slept naked, and she suspected she had makeup smeared on her face. She sighed and rose to take a shower.

Afterwards, she was making coffee in the kitchen, answering the texts, and sighing. She had a mild headache, perhaps, from the unusual amount of sleep, and some sort of odd apathy made her pause from time to time and just stare at the snow falling behind the window. Perhaps, it would be wise to pull herself together and go to work. On the other hand, in the series of texts they'd just exchanged, Fenton told her in no uncertain terms to take a day off. He was perhaps right, she had to admit. The previous evening had taken a lot out of her.

She got dressed in a cosy soft tunic jumper and jeans, bundled up, and decided to meet up with Yolanda in the Old Station. Fleckney Woulds was noticeably quieter than usual. She assumed the town was recovering after the Festival, nursing hang-overs, and cleaning out rubbish. She was slowly walking along Lilac Street, when she saw a small girl standing in front of Mrs. Wakefield's toy shop, watching the mechanical toys - monkeys and clowns - running on the strings stretched in the window. There wasn't an adult in view, and Viola hesitated for a second, and then approached the girl.

"Hello," she said. "Are you lost?"

The girl was well-dressed, in a thick, weather appropriate jacket, a hat with a giant jolly pom-pom, and colourful stripy mittens. She was exceptionally skinny, and probably too small for her age. She had a sharp, turn-up nose, straight black hair sticking out from under the hat, and freckles peppering her nose.

The girl gave her a polite smile and a shake of her head.

"Who are you here with?" Viola tried again. She looked around just in case the parent of the child she was 'harassing' had just bent down to tie their laces behind a rubbish bin, but there was no one around. "Are you alone?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," the girl said. She had a thick Northern accent. She was about eight years old, Viola estimated. "And I'm not lost. I'm looking for my cat. She ran away again."

"Right," Viola said. "Well, do you mind if I call the police and tell them you're here?" Viola hadn't had the foggiest how to talk to children, if she was honest. She never had much practice. That's when one needs a Holyoake by their side. "Maybe they can help you find your cat."

"Police don't care about cats," the girl said importantly. "And you don't have to call them. This is the countryside. It's safe here for children."

Viola shared the sentiment - but that was still an unattended child standing in front of her.

"Right, but you see–" Viola started, but suddenly, with a triumphant 'There she is!' the girl took off running across the street - and almost straight under the wheels of a large pick-up truck.

Viola jumped ahead, trying to snatch the girl, but she wasn't fast enough. Thankfully, the driver of the truck was, and it came to a halt a few feet away from the girl, who stood frozen for a few seconds and resumed her running after a large black cat that Viola could now see as well.

"What the bloody hell?!" James Whitlaw hollered, jumping out of his truck.

"Sorry!" Viola shouted, taking the blame for some reason, and rushed after the girl.

"Viola, what's going on?" he called after her, but she had no time for answering.

The girl dove into a back alley, behind a small clothes shop, and Viola followed. She could see the girl turn the corner on the other end of the alley, Viola sped up - and caught up with the child right near the Old Fire Station. The girl was now holding the cat in her arms. It was black like soot, with the exception of its left ear. The fur on the ear was silver white, as if it had a Mallen streak. Just like Rhys.

"Vivi!" she heard Yolanda's voice coming from the open doors of the Station.

The noise of obvious enthusiastic renovations - or perhaps, at this stage, demolitions - was coming from inside the building.

"Hey!" Yolanda stepped onto the pavement. "You aren't going to believe–" Yolanda froze with her mouth half-open and then pointed at the cat. "That's my cat!" she exclaimed.

"No, it's my cat," the girl said. "Her name is Persimmon."

"Like the fruit?" Viola asked.

"But you see, this is the cat that will live in my bookshop!" Yola said at the same time.

"You have a bookshop?" the girl asked with obvious interest. "I love bookshops! And books!"

"Not yet, but I will," Yola said, still eyeing the cat with greedy curiosity. Viola knew that look. It was Yola's hunch again. "I'm opening it right here." She pointed behind herself.

"But it's a fire station," the girl said, giving Yola a doubtful look.

"Not anymore. This will be my bookshop. There will be rows and rows of bookshelves, and armchairs of all possible colours, and a soda machine, and a large red dragon right above the ceiling!" Yolanda gestured around herself in her usual flamboyant manner. "And this cat is supposed to live in it!" She leaned ahead and studied the girl's angular face. "Are you an Oakby by any chance?"

"What's an Oakby?" the girl asked. "I'm Varya."

"Varya?" Yolanda asked, clearly just as impressed by the unusual name as Viola. "I'm Yolanda," she said and stretched her hand to the girl for a shake.

"I can't shake it. I'm holding Persimmon. Also, you're a stranger." The girl didn't sound fully certain.

"I'm not a stranger," Yola dismissed. "We've just been introduced. And this is Viola. She's the local doctor. Dr. Holyoake."

"Oh, are you one of them? The Holyoakes? My Uncle mentioned you," the girl said, her dark brown eyes roaming Viola. "He said everything in this town belongs to you."

"And who's your Uncle?" Viola asked.

"His name is Martin Ferguson. He's my Dad's brother. We're staying at his farm." Considering the way the girl deflated and the disgust written on her face, the visit to the farm wasn't going well.

"Who we?" Viola asked.

"Me and my Mum. And Persimmon. But Persimmon keeps running away, I reckon she doesn't like the farm," the girl said. "She's a city cat, you see. And a few weeks ago she hid in this small cabin in the woods, and there was a scary man there. And now Mum needs a job to pay for the damage we'd made there. And we came here, and Mum was asking around, but Persimmon escaped her box, because we don't have any money to buy a proper carrier for her."

"I see," Viola said, eager to get a proper clue in her investigation. "And where exactly was your Mum asking around?"

"Oh, it all makes sense now!" Yola exclaimed and laughed gleefully. "Your Mum will be working in my shop, and that's how Persimmon will end up being in it as well."

Viola gave Yola a glare. Finding the girl's mother was more important than Yolanda's mumbo-jumbo - and at that moment, a shout 'Varya!' rang in the street, and they all turned to see a young woman running towards them. As soon as she reached them, Viola knew it was Varya's Mum: they had identically pointy noses, and the woman had the same black hair cut in a sleek bob, tucked behind her ears. Besides, it was confirmed by the way she dropped on her knees into the dirty snow near the girl and wrapped around her, bursting into a long speech in some harsh language. Russian perhaps, Viola assumed, based on her previous experience with Slavic speaking patients.

"Varya, what were you thinking?!" the woman cried out. She had a thick, but not unattractive accent. "I looked away for one second, and you weren't there!"

"Persimmon ran away," Varya said defensively. "And also I found you a job. Yolanda wants to hire you to work in her bookshop," she added proudly and pointed at Yola.

"I do," Yolanda confirmed easily. "But only if you bring Persimmon with you to work."

The young woman slowly rose and stared at Yola. They were about the same height, except the woman looked like a lolly stick near Yolanda and her lush curves.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," the woman said.

"Mum, but you need the job! How are we going to pay the man from the woods?" Varya said and bumped her shoulder into her Mother's arm. "He was so scary," she explained to Viola. "I just needed to get Persimmon out, so I climbed into the window, and Persimmon started running around, and pushing things off the shelves, and apparently we broke some very expensive things, and I spilled paint on his painting. It was on the floor! Who puts a painting on the floor! And he screamed, and it was so scary! And he had yellow eyes! I've never seen a man with yellow eyes!"

"Wait, what do you mean by 'yellow eyes?'" Viola asked, and her phone rang in her handbag.

Seeing that the cat, the girl, and her Mother - now absorbed in a conversation with Yolanda - had been reunited, Viola stepped aside and pulled her mobile from her handbag.

"Vi, hi," Rhys said in it in a jolly tone. "I'm in the hospital with Nana, and it looks like I can take her home tonight. So, she was wondering–" Viola heard Nana say something in the background, and Rhys gave out a short warm laugh. "Alright, alright," he murmured affectionately, and then said into the phone again, "So, I was wondering if you'd like to join us tonight, when I bring her to the cottage. Just for a cup of tea, you know. Of course, if you aren't busy."