1937

The mansion is much as I remember it, but seems a bit small, not derelict really, but kind of shabby and tawdry, like a very earnest and laughably amateurish attempt to capture on colonized soil the essence of British landed nobility.  Perhaps the accustomed grandeur of the place on first blush eclipsd all the flaws  Or maybe after visiting Jesus in the Refuge, even Buckingham Palace would seem somehow lacking or wanting.  Melissa is seated on the verandah, stirring something in a big yellow ceramic mixing bowl on her lap. "Took you long enough to get here", she said, not looking up. "We stopped at Tommy's for something to eat", replies her brother, not quite defensively. "Lots of food here", she replies in her flat voice. "Hey, we got here, eh?"  says Carl, gesturing to Kenny and to Erik."Kenny, Erik, please meet my sister Melissa."  She barely glances their way, barely grunts something inarticulate. "Erik is my brother-in-law, and Kenny is an old family friend, actually more like my brother", say I, stammering a bit because suddenly Carl's sister is a most intimidating and excruciatingly silent force. "We already met", she mutters, which obviates any need to ask her if she remembers our time at the Refuge.  "Well, don't stand out there waiting for it to get dark, come in for dessert.  There's lots of chocolate cake left." "What are you making right now", says Carl, gesturing at the mixing bowl in her lap. "Pancake batter for breakfast tomorrow.  How long are you staying?" "We'll be going back after the cops are gone tomorrow", says Carl... As I step up onto the veranda, I instinctively look back, and there is Tron at a small distance watching us on his great white horse Ráfaga.