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Are the stars out tonight?

I don't know if it's cloudy or bright

I only have eyes for you, dear

So little snippets of it, and Jazz had al-ways cherished those rare moments when her mother seeh her every day, like deep water under a frozen river Jazz had asked her several ti All but once, Mu about That once, she'd relented

"Was a ti it to ain

Churchill? What was that about? The h it came from some old-time radio Someone was down here in the tunnel with her, but it wasn't the Uncles or their other BMWcontinued to play, but the child's laugh did not coain

Hope and dread warred within her Whoever lurked in the tunnel could point her way out, if they weren't mad as a hatter But that business about Churchill pricked at her mind, and the memory of that voice seeped down her spine

Retreat not an option, she went on, peering into the darkness for a face The radio crackled again and other whispers joined in Jazz's breath caught How ht a few snatches of words, but nothing that made any sense What had she discovered, some sort of subterranean enclave?

"Sir?" a voice called "Paper, sir?"

Before she turned, in that singularat the back of her hter, the voices, even the music they made no echo The tiles did not throw the sounds back at her

Her skin prickled as she turned and saw the boy in his cap and jacket, the shape of hiestion in the dark, a fold in the air He held so out, a newspaper, as if to some passerby But no one else was there He did not seeht her foot on the rail, and sprawled on her ass

When she sat up, breath hitching, shaking in confusion, the ghost had gone For what else could it have been? Hal-lucination or phantom: those were really the only choices, and she feared

Thehad stopped

Jazz stood and stepped carefully back between the tracks With a quick glance at the spot where she'd seen the darkness form its lines and shadows into a shape, she hurried on, wondering if the whole day htht now, or in a hospital, and none of what she had seen was real?

The thought brought the threat of tears, and she bit her lower lip The rail glistened eak light that filtered down the vent shaft ahead The dripping noise remained, and froines She ht, and it made her wonder just how dark it would becolanced around, searching for an exit Again, as she had back on the station platfor, she peered back the way she'd cons of anyone there

Taking a breath, she started into the darkness again, hur-rying toward the next shaft of light

Focusing only on her footing, she stepped frolint of the rails just enough to avoid stu, her mother's voice muttered in her head Remember, they can't find you if you can't find yourself

That particular co for a winter coat, the day Mued hood It hung in her closet now, and would forever, until sos and it vanished into another closet or some charity shop

Jazz sed but found that her throat had gone dry Mum spoke to her from the surface world, froht be ination, she did not want to know

Perhaps she'd becoround

"How'h?" Jazz said aloud, her voice quavering, the echo soft

Halfway to the next splash of light, the whispers began again The Churchill hater spoke up, so close Too close Jazz spun around, crouched down, and now the walls she had built to keep out the fear gave way and it crashed in around her, drowning her Her eyes searched the tunnel for ghosts

"Where are you? What the hell are you doing here?" she cried into the darkness

A horn beeped loudly behind her

Jazz spun and saw the car co the tracks On instinct, she threw herself to one side

But the car existed only as a shade --a pale, translucent iine buzz in her ears, but the tunnel did not echo the sound

A cacophony of sound erupted around her Voices, Cars Theradio static "Pennies from Heaven" this time The newsboy hawked papers And as she spun, eyes wide, body shaking with the influx of the ies Gas lamps burned on street corners, and she saw the city unfold around her London --but not the London she knew The clothes were of another era The Churchill hater stood out-side a pub, blustering drunkenly at another man; couples walked arm in arm, the hosts of London

All she could do to escape was close her eyes, but when she squeezed thee slashed across her mind instead

No escape

Jazz screamed, and when she ran out of breath, she in-haled and screahosts were still there On one corner stood a loves He fanned a deck of cards to an unseen audience the way the newsboy had offered his papers to invisible passersby With his right hand he drew out a single card, and her eyes followed that card for only an instant but long enough for the rest of the deck to vanish He opened his arms as if to welcos tak-ing flight The birds vanished when they reached the roof of the tunnel, passing through as if by some other illusion