The Impossible Poisoning.

Chapter 1

I sat on my hastily packed suitcase, twisting my hands in my lap and biting my lip. Isabel and I were in Norfolk Station, having caught the train up from London that same afternoon. Stephenson's letter weighed heavily in my little side-bag I had brought for personal belongings, or at least, that was what I had told my sister. Really, it was just some extra space for anything I didn't want her to see.

"Here's another one" Isabel muttered. "London, 14:35."

"Come on, boys" I murmured desperately. "Please, please, please..."

Before our rather abrupt departure from Praed Street, Isabel had managed to get in touch with Newham and Fisher, to warn them of the net of danger that was closing in around us. It seemed our dealings with the Prime Minister the previous week had, quite literally, been the last straw for the man that called himself Old Man Stephenson. I still wasn't quite sure why murdering the Prime Minister was quite so important in his plan, but I had foiled it, and now he was out to get me.

I smirked slyly. If only...

"Yes!" Isabel squeaked, leaping from her chair like a coiled spring, and flying across the platform, flinging herself on a small, rather wiry young man who had just disembarked from one of the carriages of the London train standing in the station. He staggered back a step, before wrapping his thin arms around her and holding her tight. I sighed with relief and forced a smile. Fisher had made it. That, at least, was something to be grateful for. Now all we needed was Newham.

It was two trains later when the lieutenant finally appeared. I was so sure that Stephenson had got him by then that I wasn't even looking at the disembarking passengers, only at the clock, which, I knew, once it hit our agreed six p.m. deadline, would relieve me of the psychological pain I was in.

"Allie!" Isabel gasped, shaking my shoulder. She and Fisher had been sat on the bench next to us as I had sat on my suitcase, without talking, just with Fisher's arm over Isabel's shoulders and the fingers of his other hand laced with hers.

I looked up. A familiar figure had just got down from the carriage ahead of us, and I didn't want to believe it. I stood up, shaking a little, as he picked up his bags and came up to us.

"Sorry I'm..." he began, but he was cut off as I finally lost my control and ran at him, burying my head in his chest and nearly bursting into tears then and there. He dropped his bags and put his arms over my shoulders, stroking my hair and hushing me as I must have very nearly squeezed the breath out of him.

"Come on, you" he said, gently but firmly. "No tears yet. We've a long way to go."

I sniffed, finally detaching myself and taking a deep breath.

"Yeah" was all I could manage.

"And besides" Isabel added, squeezing my shoulder as I collected myself and my bags. "You're the only one who knows Hettie's address, so we kinda need you not in a blubbering mess..."

"Izzy!" I gasped, pulling away with a smile. "There is a line, Isabel Winter, to what one can and cannot say in certain company!"

"Mother used to say that!" Isabel commented, surprised, but still smiling.

"I know" I replied loosely. "That was the point."

We hitched a cab, and I gave the address of Hettie's cottage. It was within driving distance of the station, which, Hettie and I both agreed, was eternally helpful whilst travelling, to and from a destination.

We rattled into a tiny, sleepy village, and then promptly rattled out of it again. Along a little further, then off into a lane. Down the lane, where the branches of the trees hung low, and a couple nearly took Newham's head off as he sat next to me in the cart, his hand comfortingly in mine.

We stopped in front of a little stone cottage, and in the dimming light, it looked heavenly, with the ivy creeping over the door and the petite little garden, which I assumed must be Broker's, since Hettie really didn't strike me as a gardening girl.

"Does...Hettie k-know we're coming?" Fisher asked, as if only just thinking of it. I decided direct and short was the best approach.

"Nope."

I opened the little wooden gate, and walked quickly up to the front door, knocking briefly on the knocker. A minute passed, and Broker opened it.

"Miss Winter!" he exclaimed, when he saw me standing on the doorstep.

"Private Broker!" I greeted him brightly.

"Miss Winter?" Hettie's voice echoed from inside. There was a scuffle and a bang, as if Hettie had jumped up so violently she has knocked something over.

"Allie!" she squealed, having stuck her head into the hall and seen me.

"Hettie!" I beamed, as she skidded down the hall, scooping me into a hug that lifted me clear off the floor.

"Hey!" I complained loudly, as Newham appeared from behind me to greet Broker.

"Oh, and Isabel and Deputy Inspector Fisher! What a surprise!" Hettie laughed, but the laughter died a little as she saw our bags.

"Inspector Fisher" I heard Fisher correct quietly from behind me.

"We've run into a little bit of trouble" Newham explained, over the slightly awkward silence that followed.

"Right..." Broker said slowly. "How much trouble?"

"Too much, for our liking" Isabel chipped in.

"And...you need somewhere to hide" Hettie breathed, as she caught on to our wavelength.

"Yeah" I sighed. "I'm sorry, Het, but we're not safe in London."

"Well you've come to a good place, Allie" Hettie smiled, a little weakly. "Come on in, all of you. We've only got one spare room, so someone's going to have to camp in the lounge..."

"I will" Newham and Fisher offered simultaneously. Hettie beamed at them.

"I reckoned that would be the case."

As we all shuffled into Hettie's hall, dragging bags and cases, Hettie caught my shoulder and leaned down.

"How much danger are you in?" she murmured. "Out of ten?"

I bit my lip.

"Right now, probably about a five" I replied. "But if we were still in London, I'd bet on a solid eleven."