She once warr Grene but now she waxeth white, it said on the stone, lamented by a fewe frends.

Had Lydia lived, I reflected, she would now be four hundred and forty-seven years old, and probably a person well worth getting to know.

"Oh, I feel such a chump."

I turned to see the woman dabbing at her eyes and giving me a damp grin.

"I'm Nialla," she said, sticking out a hand. "Rupert's assistant."

I fought back my revulsion and gave her fingers a lightning-quick shake. As I had suspected, her hand was wet and sticky. As soon as I was decently able, I slid my own hand out of sight behind my back and wiped it on the back of my skirt.

"Assistant?" The word popped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Oh, I know the vicar assumed that I'm Rupert's wife. But it's not like that. Honestly! It's not like that at all."

I glanced over involuntarily at the Porson's Puppets van. She spotted it at once.

"Well, yes ... we do travel together. I suppose Rupert and I have what you might call ... a very great affection for one another. But husband and wife ... ?"

What kind of fool did she take me for? It was no more than a week since Daffy had been reading aloud to Feely and me from Oliver Twist, and I knew, as surely as I knew my own name, that this woman, Nialla, was Nancy to Rupert Porson's Bill Sikes. Didn't she realize that I'd spotted the filthy great bruise on her upper arm?

"Actually, it's such jolly fun rattling about England with Rupert. He's recognized everywhere we go, you know. Just the day before yesterday, for instance, we were playing at Market Selby when we were spotted in the post office by a fat lady in a flowerpot hat.