She didn't actually have many possessions, just the clothes she stood up in, the changes of underwear she'd been issued with and the box of chocolates, so once she'd said goodbye to Lucille, it didn't take long to leave.

Outside the building, Harker looked her up and down and said, 'How's your ankle?'

'Better,' Eve said. She could walk okay, so long as she didn't put too much stress on it.

'Glad to hear it,' Harker said. 'Unfortunately, it means I have to use these.' And before she could react, he'd locked a handcuff around her right wrist, and his left.

'Bastard,' Eve said, with feeling.

'You say that like it's a bad thing,' Harker replied, without rancour.

Expecting a car, she was surprised when Harker just walked out of the compound, past the guards who raised the barrier for him.

'No Sergeant Cooper today?' Harker said to one of them.

'No, sir. Getting married, sir.'

An expression of horror came over Harker's face. 'Hell,' he said. He looked at his watch. 'Double hell. Corporal, I need a ... a car, a horse, whatever you have. I need to be in Cheapside, now.'

Whatever authority Harker had clearly put the fear of God into the guards, because a fully saddled horse was produced from apparently nowhere at lightning speed, while Eve looked on in amazement. 'Why do you need to be there?' she said. 'Are you related?'

'Coop's one of my men,' Harker said. 'We fought together. That's closer than "related".'

He lifted her sideways into the saddle, swung up behind her, and had the horse moving before Eve could protest that she didn't know how to ride.

'It's easy,' he said, grabbing her leg and lifting it over the horse's neck so that she sat astride the saddle. Eve was so shocked at the intimacy of it that it didn't occur to her to protest.

In order to hold the reins, he had his left arm wrapped around her waist, for which Eve was mildly grateful, given the horse's eager gallop.

'You go to all your soldiers' weddings?' she shouted over the noise of the streets, which looked to her like something out of Deadwood.

''Course I do.'

'Are you always this punctual?'

'On days when I don't have to go and get prisoners out of jail, yes.'

So she had been a prisoner. It was the first time anyone had actually admitted it.

The horse thundered through the streets, people scattering before it. Eve couldn't even begin to figure out where they were; nothing looked familiar. The streets were full of timber-framed buildings listing drunkenly towards each other, the roads either broken or unpaved, and full of people and animals. Horses and donkeys seemed to be the preferred way of getting about, and any motor vehicles she saw were painted khaki and resembled leftovers from WWII.

Cutting through backstreets and reeking alleys where the buildings overhung so low they had to duck, Harker came out by the river and the pontoon he'd taken her over those few days before. Across the river, the skeleton of a timber theatre stood, stark in the afternoon light, the whole south bank behind it bare of anything but rubble.

Last week it had been bleak, but not that bleak.

'What happened?' she gasped, as Harker turned the horse sharply left.

'What?'

'To the south bank!'

'The Royal Grenadiers did,' Harker said. 'Duck.'

The horse clattered through an alley so narrow, low and stinking Eve thought for a moment Harker was going to use it to hide her dismembered corpse, but then they emerged into sunlight, raced along another unfamiliar street, and skidded to a halt outside a pretty church.

Over the road, a crowd of people were clustered around a piece of paper nailed to the wall. Many of them were sobbing. Harker, seeing Eve's interest, muttered, 'Casualty lists. Never pretty.'

He leapt down, yanking Eve with him, and she fell into his arms just as a pony-led carriage came to a halt behind them.

'Mister Harker!' someone gasped, and Harker righted Eve and turned to smile at the passenger of the open carriage.

'Rosie. You look wonderful.'

The young woman, dressed in white with a short veil, beamed at him as she climbed out. 'Mister Harker, I knew you'd come. And you sent those coupons for the reception. I just can't tell you how grateful we are. We've enough for a cake!'

'Well, I'm glad,' Harker said, his tone warm, his smile genuine. As Rosie's gaze darted between him and Eve, he added, 'This is my ... friend, Eve.'

Eve plastered on an instant smile, the sort she'd learned how to do in the Grrl Power days, and said, 'Congratulations.'

Rosie beamed at her, and Harker tugged her away, taking her hand and pulling the long sleeve of the great coat down over her wrist to hide the cuffs.

'So I'm your date now?' Eve muttered as they went inside the church. Harker, to her surprise, crossed himself with his free hand.

'Until we leave this wedding, yes. Create a fuss and I will have you shot,' he muttered back, and there was menace in his eyes. Eve raised her palms in surrender, noting with a giggle that his hand came up, too.

To her continued surprise, the service was in Latin. It occurred to Eve that, with everything else about this place that was different, England might well be a Catholic country. She mumbled along with Harker's responses, relieved to be at the back so no one could see she hadn't a clue what was going on. He, along with everyone else, seemed to know exactly what to do.

When the glowing bride and groom walked back down the aisle, Harker and several other men in uniform saluted them, and she noticed for the first time what a state his right hand was in.

The palm wasn't too bad, but the back of his hand and fingers bore several puckered scars. A particularly vicious one ran across the back of his first three fingers. The last finger ended in a stub.

Eve stared for a long moment at that stub. His little finger had been cut off at the first knuckle. There just wasn't anything past it.

If she was mad, why had her brain come up with that detail?

Outside the church people were throwing petals at the newlyweds, who stood beaming and absorbing congratulations. The groom was in a uniform with shiny buttons, bearing medals on his breast. The bride wore a dress which, while white and undoubtedly bridal, lacked the volume of fabric usually associated with such outfits, and her shoes were quite ordinary.

'Say nothing,' Harker ordered her, and yanked her forward to greet Sergeant and Rosie Cooper, who both thanked him again, profusely, for the ration coupons he'd sent them.

Eve glanced up at the sky, half-expecting to see barrage balloons floating there.

'And you must come and have some of our cake!' Rosie insisted. 'It's for family only, but you can have a piece, Mister Harker.'

She called him Mister as if it was a privilege, Eve thought. And he didn't seem to mind.

'That's so kind of you, Rosie, but I couldn't deprive you of it. You enjoy it.'

Rosie looked at him as if he were mad, but Cooper said, 'Now Rosie, Mister Harker's made time to come and see us wed, and he's a busy man, don't ask for more of him.'

Rosie nodded, and Eve wondered what kind of hero she was handcuffed to. For a second, she entertained the idea of telling them that he'd tricked, imprisoned and handcuffed her, but she wasn't cruel enough to destroy anyone's idols. Even if she didn't understand them.

Instead she reached inside the greatcoat and brought out the box of chocolates. 'Here,' she said, holding them out to Rosie. 'A wedding present.'

To Eve's horror, tears welled up in Rosie's eyes. 'Thank you!' she cried, hugging Eve to her and nearly crushing her bouquet. 'Oh, look everyone! Chocolates!'

People turned to stare at them, and Eve felt herself go pink. Even Harker was looking at her in amazement.

'Well, congratulations,' she mumbled.

'Oh, Mister Harker.' Rosie flung her arms around him, and Eve hoped she was the only one to see his expression, 'I do hope we'll see you down this aisle one day!'

At that, Harker's eyes slammed wide open, but when Rosie looked up at him, he was smiling normally.

'Don't expect that'll be any day soon,' he said.

'Not even when you've found a lady what gives people chocolates?' Rosie said, looking at the box in her hand as if it contained diamonds.

'Not until I find a chaplain who'll marry a divorced man,' he said gently, and Rosie went pink.

Eve felt an immediate bond of sympathy with Harker's ex-wife.

Harker kissed Rosie's cheek, shook Cooper's hand, saluted them both, then tugged Eve away into the street.

'Well, that was interesting,' Eve said, to no one in particular, as Harker untied his horse and hefted her into the saddle. He swung up behind her, took the reins in his mangled right hand Eve couldn't stop looking at it and they set off, this time at a more leisurely pace.

Passing yet another ramshackle church, Eve asked over her shoulder, 'Was that a Roman Catholic service at the church?'

'Course it was.'

'Are you Catholic?'

'Course I am.'

'Oh.'

After a minute or so, Harker said, 'Aren't you?'

'Er, no. Church of England.' In truth, Eve had been baptised, and then hadn't set foot in a church until her father's funeral.

'Church of what?'

'Never mind. Is the whole country Catholic?'

'Of course.' Harker paused, then said, 'Eve, are you sure you're not from abroad?'

Eve sighed. 'Yes, I'm sure.'

They rode in silence a while longer. Which was to say neither Eve nor Harker spoke, but the crowds ebbing around them were in constant chatter, people shouting above the general noise, dogs barking, bells ringing. Eve looked around at the people, at what they were wearing, and couldn't quite put her finger on what was wrong.

There were men and women in trousers. She saw t-shirts and jeans. Very few men in suits, or women in heels. In fact, a large portion of the people she saw, male and female, were in uniform.

There were few children. Even fewer old people.

'What about Henry VIII?' she asked after a while.

'Sorry, what?'

'Henry VIII. The King. Fifteen hundreds.'

'What about him?'

'Well, how many wives did he have?'

'Oh, was he the one with loads? Divorced a couple.'

'Yes!' Eve said, massively relieved. 'He broke with the Catholic Church because the Pope wouldn't give him a divorce from his first wife.'

'Um, no he didn't,' Harker said. He shifted behind her. 'I don't know a lot about history, but I do know we never broke with the Catholic Church.'

'Yes, we did!'

'No,' Harker said wearily, 'we didn't.'

Eve floundered a moment, then asked 'What abut the Protestant Reformation?'

'The what?'

Well, that answered that question. A thought occurred to her and she asked, 'Then how come you got divorced?'

'Because ordinary people like me don't have to petition the Pope,' Harker said. 'We just get a lawyer.'

'I thought the Catholic Church disapproved of divorce.'

'I don't think they really care any more. Not about some damp little island on the edge of the world.'

'England is not on the edge of the world,' Eve said.

'Yeah, but it might as well be.'

Another silence. Eve ducked as the horse went under a low, dirty brick bridge. Behind her, so did Harker, his hard body pressing against hers in a way that might have been pleasant if he wasn't holding her prisoner.

'So, if they don't care, how come you can't get married again?'

Harker sighed. 'Is this important?'

'Or was that just to shut Rosie up?'

'It was to stop her asking when I'm going to marry someone I only just met, who is suspected of being a spy,' Harker said.