Mark Randall stretched out languorously in the bed, feeling pretty pleased with himself. Combined with the best sleep he’d had in over a week, in the biggest bed he’d ever had the pleasure of snoozing in - he felt exactly like the cat with the proverbial cream.

He looked across at the other bed; an unruly mop of hair sticking out through the top of the bedclothes the only clue giving away his brother’s presence. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the very first time he’d ever woken before his brother, so, determined to make a feature of it, he leapt out of bed to hit the shower first.

When he emerged through the steam, he found his brother sitting outside the door encased in a white hotel bathrobe waiting his turn. Saying nothing but acknowledging Mark with a quick nod of the head, Rob entered and shut the door behind him.

Half an hour later they were both exiting the room to go down to breakfast.

Beverley was standing at the front desk, obvious from her demeanor she was waiting for them (or Rob). She waved them forward and lead them to one side. "You’ve already missed Helen, she came down really early." Mark sighed his disappointment, "doesn’t matter," Bev continued, touching his forearm, "she’s just gone to her usual haunt. You two go and eat, and I’ll take you to her afterwards." She nodded towards the dining room and smiled up at Rob, who hovered, waiting for his brother to leave them alone.

The younger Randall brother had walked on ahead, unaware that his brother was leaning across the counter talking quietly into the ear of his giggling love interest. Mark climbed up the short staircase and swept through the ornate double doors into the expansive dining area. The impressive site of the room’s interior caused him to pull up short and his mouth to hang stupidly open.

A waiter came forward and said something to him, but Mark was far too busy staring about him to notice he was there. His face was set with a look of astonishment, his cheeks reddening slightly.

Rob finally appeared by his side and looked from the waiter who was smiling with a look of ‘here we go again’ on his face, to his dumbstruck sibling. "What’s up with you, Little Brother? You look like someone’s slapped you in the face with a wet kipper!" his said loudly.

"Rob, don’t you recognize it?" he asked slowly and quietly.

"Recognize what?" countered Rob, glancing about, realizing how serious a matter it was for Mark not to react to his ‘Little Brother’ quip.

"The room."

Rob shook his head, his mouth turned down in a gesture of negativity, "you’re going to have to be a little more specific - I haven’t a clue what your whittering on about." He glanced fleetingly at the waiter apologetically.

Mark finally looked at the attendant to seek affirmation before he was prepared to make a fool of himself to his older brother - "It is, isn’t it?" he asked.

The waiter cleared his throat, "yes, it is Sir," he answered, not a little proudly.

Mark lifted his chin and turned to his bother, "it’s the dining room from the ‘Olympic’, the ‘Titanic’s sister ship," he offered.

"The smoking room, actually Sir," corrected the waiter.

"I stand corrected." Mark grinned at Rob, who was now rooted to the spot himself, "now who looks like he’s been hit with a wet kipper?" he remarked and laughed.

Rob gazed about the room with renewed interest at the intricately hand-carved wooden paneling and stained glass windows. He also admired the large marble fireplace, which was overshadowed by the huge gilded mirror positioned above, "no wonder Helen badgered Alex so much about visiting this place - she’s balmy about that film."

Cogs began turning in Mark’s head and he addressed the waiter again, "So the staircase outside is…"

"…The Grand Staircase from the ‘Olympic’, yes Sir."

"Wow…!"

***

Joe Hardy welcomed his brother back from the ‘Land of Nod’ with a steaming hot cup of coffee.

Frank peered at it with one weepy eye and groaned, "Aw Jeez…is it morning already?"

Joe nodded and thrust his watch at him.

"11.00 o’clock!" he exclaimed, retrieving his own watch from the bedside cabinet to double check.

Joe shrugged his shoulders almost apologetically and grinned.

The teenagers had all opted to sleep in the same room that night, feeling it was safer to stick together. Their night was thankfully undisturbed, except for Kiwi’s incessant snoring - even through his watch! However, neither of the other two boys were hard-hearted enough to wake him, both assuming that at 5.00 in the morning, it was highly improbable they would be receiving any ‘uninvited guests’.

Joe held up a piece of paper, upon which Kiwi had scribbled: ‘Come down to breakfast my American Mate. I’ve been pushing the boat out - bacon and eggs today!’

"Cool!" said Frank, swinging his legs out of the bed.

***

Following their hearty meal, Rob and Mark we’re led by Beverley out of the hotel, onto the high street.

"She always spends her mornings in the Glass Café across the road. Sometimes I join her and we sit and chinwag together - or rather, I sit and chinwag, Helen just patiently listens…" she explained and pointed.

Mark eyes followed her finger and saw a square building, three sides of which were lined with glass. Due to the sun being in his eyes as they approached, he was unable to make out details inside, but as they drew nearer, the sun was pushed behind the building and he finally spotted a young woman sitting hunched over towards the back of the crowded room, nursing a tall cardboard cup. Her hair was hanging down concealing her face entirely and she looked frail and thin, but despite these physical changes, Mark’s instincts told him this was indeed his lost friend.

There were two entrances into the premises, and as the trio approached, an elderly couple entered a door close by where Helen was seated. She looked up at them, and for the first time Rob and Mark got a full look at Helen’s appearance. Her whole face appeared drawn, and for the first time in her life, she looked her age. Deep frown lines appeared to have taken residence and her eyes were bloodshot from either lack of sleep or constant weeping.

The elderly couple addressed her and she shook her head in response and looked down again. Helen took a sip of her drink as the couple settled down at her table - her hand was shaking.

Mark realized his friend was more than just ‘lost’, she had completely retreated into herself, and his heart went out to her.

Suddenly her shoulders tensed and she slowly looked around, obviously sensing someone’s presence. Her eyes swiveled and locked straight onto Mark’s and for a few seconds they simply looked at one another in shocked bewilderment. The elderly couple had ceased their conversation and were also looking towards Mark, Rob and Bev to see what was occupying Helen’s attention so completely.

Without warning, Helen suddenly leapt to her feet panic stricken, almost overturning her chair in her haste to flee out the door, her reaction taking them all completely by surprise. Mark’s reflexes were the quickest and he instantly dashed for the door closest to them. Flinging it open, he sprinted full pelt across the tiled floor and crashed out through the door Helen has just exited.

Rob attempted the same maneuver, but as he drew level with the elderly gentleman, he calmly put out his walking stick and tripped him - obviously reading the situation as an attack on a lone female. His companion was shrieking to the café staff to phone the police just as Bev caught up.

They were therefore both left behind to explain their bizarre behavior to the whole café as Mark Randall was disappearing into the distance in his pursuit of Helen Morris.

***

Mark couldn’t believe the speed at which Helen was moving - she was really going for it. "Wow, she’s seriously fast," he thought, having to quicken his own speed to the limit. He glanced over his shoulder and for a fleeting second wondered what had happened to his brother.

Helen fled up a concealed alleyway that led behind some terraced houses.

"Wait up Helen!" Mark yelled, turning into the avenue himself. He got within grasping distance and pulled Helen up short by the elbow. She immediately span round and socked him straight in the cheek, sending him staggering sideways, "please…don’t touch me!" she pleaded.

More surprised than hurt Mark made a clumsy grab for her again, but the time it had taken him to recover had given her the ample opportunity she needed to take off again. "God damn it Helen! If it was anyone other than you I wouldn’t bother!" he shouted, nursing his cheek and resuming the chase.

She turned left and found herself tearing down between two rows of garages the foot of which were connected by a tall brick wall. She ran down to the end, hoping to find an avenue of escape, but there was no way out. Seriously frustrated she began pacing backwards and forwards like a caged animal, throwing kicks at the slated garage doors. She finally stopped and looked back, wild eyed at her friend.

Mark addressed her, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you," he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice, "I just want to talk."

"I want to be left alone!" Helen snapped, glowering fiercely. "How the hell did you find me?" she demanded to know.

"You left a phone message…"

"So?"

"…so, we dialed 1471."

She frowned for a second and then groaned and looked to the heavens, "I am so stupid," she spat at herself.

Mark advanced on her a couple of steps. "Why are you hiding?" he asked.

Helen stepped backwards out of range. Her tongue ran nervously over her top lip and she looked over Mark’s shoulder.

"Don’t even think about trying to run passed me Helen, your not getting away again," Mark warned, reading her intentions. The resigned slumping of her shoulders confirming Mark’s suspicions that she’d been hatching a further plan of escape. "You might as well tell me why you felt the need to disappear, because we’re not going anywhere until you do."

"Because I’m poison!".

"Poison?" echoed Mark, walking further towards her.

Helen put her palms up, "don’t come any closer Mark, you don’t want to take the chance of touching me," she warned.

"Why in heavens not?"

"Do I really have to repeat myself?"

"That’s about the third time I’ve heard you make that ridiculous statement, and me and Rob are here to tell you you’re way off base…"

"NOT I’M NOT!" Helen shouted. She shook her head, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She turned away and went and sat down with her back against the brick wall and drew her knees up. "My parents knew me, and now they’re dead, Alex knew me, and now he’s dead and Frank knew me, and now he’s…"

"NOT DEAD," Mark finished for her.

There followed a shocked silence, while Helen took in this new piece of information. "Wha…what? What did you say?" she stammered, peering up at him through misted eyes.

"He’s not dead," Mark repeated gently, crouching down in front of her, bringing himself down to her level.

"But…but I watched him die."

"No you didn’t - Kiwi and Rob revived him. He, Joe and Kiwi are back at home, worried sick about you."

"Oh…." Her eyes screwed up and she started bawling loudly, more out of relief than anything else. Mark delved into his pockets and handed over a tissue.

"Come on back home with us Helen, you belong with us."

"I can’t," she sobbed.

"But, why not? I’ve just told you that Frank’s okay, so what’s the problem?" asked Mark mystified. He sat down next to her also, his shoulder blades supported against the wall and slipped his arm about her shoulders.

"It’s…it’s…"

"It’s what?" he coaxed gently.

"It’s still Frank that’s the problem."

Suddenly, things clicked neatly into place. "Oh no, Helen…I’m sorry, I didn’t think. It’s the way he looks isn’t it?"

She nodded her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "You can’t imagine how difficult it is seeing him everyday. Sometimes I’ve caught myself actually believing him to be Alex – until he starts to talk of course. Then I’m left shattered all over again."

Mark nodded and pursed his lips in thought. "I could always tell Frank to shave his head, grow a long mustache and wear makeup if that would help…Sorry, bad joke."

To his astonishment, Helen did snigger a little. "He’d look like Ming the Merciless!" she retorted.

They both sat and grinned at the mental image conjured up.

"Seriously though - you could always stay at Rob’s place, until this thing is finished?" he suggested, "mind you, that might not be safe for you at the moment, considering all that’s been happening."

"This is all such a mess!" Helen muttered and sniffed. "What am I going to do Mark? I’ve lost everything, Alex was my whole life!"

"You’ve still got us two – we’re not going anywhere."

"It’s not the same…" Helen wailed, starting to cry again.

"Come here," said Mark gently and pulled her close. "One thing I do know is that being alone is not doing you any good. You need people around you at a time like this. You’re as close to Rob and me as any sister can be, so don’t push us away. Alex would be livid if he thought we’d abandoned you in your hour of need!"

Helen dug her fingernails deeply into his shirt and wept quietly. Mark decided not to push things and rubbed her back until she’d finished.

Finally her grasp loosened a little and she spoke up, "Did you catch the people responsible for Alex’s death yet?"

"Nope. We left the other three to follow up on a lead." He pulled Helen even tighter into himself. "Look, this is going to sound harsh, but we still need you for the investigation. Without you things are going to start looking very fishy. People are going to start wondering where you are."

"I know," Helen whispered, "I’d considered that myself."

"Will you come home with us and we’ll work this out together?"

Helen sniffed again and pulled back to look into Mark’s eyes. Seeing sincerity in those blue orbs she made up her mind and slowly nodded. "Okay…but you’ll have to promise me one thing?"

"Anything…just name it and it’s yours..."

"Give me room Mark, no pressure – just one day at a time ‘eh? And no more sleeping outside my room?"

"Agreed – one day at a time."

Suddenly a stern, commanding voice interrupted their private moment, "are you alright Miss?"

Startled, Mark and Helen were surprised at seeing a tall uniformed policeman standing in front of them.

"Why, yes - is there a problem officer?" asked Helen hesitantly, rubbing her face self-consciously.

The officer took in Helen’s disheveled appearance and the growing red blotch on Mark’s cheek where she’d slugged him earlier and instantly jumped to the wrong conclusion. "Face the wall," he commanded Mark loudly in disgust who was gradually climbing to his feet.

With an astounded look on his face, Mark did as he was told. He instantly found himself shoved forward with his palms against the brickwork and his legs kicked apart.