She shook her head sadly. "We can never — never be husband and wife. Not now."

"No?"

"No, Jherek, dear. It is too late for that."

"I see." Wistfully, he pulled up a blade of grass.

"The divorce, you see, has not taken place. And no ceremony binds us. Oh, there is much I could explain, but let us not waste the minutes we have."

"These — these conventions. They are important enough to deny us the expression of our love?"

"Oh, do not mistake me, my dear. I know now that those conventions are not universal — that they have no usefulness here — but you forget — for years I have obeyed them. I cannot, in my own self, rebel against them in so short a time. As it is, I quell a tide of guilt that threatens to flood through me."

"Guilt, again?"

"Yes, dearest. If I went so suddenly against my training, I suspect that I should break down completely. I should not be the Amelia Underwood you know!"

"Yet, if there were more time…"

"Oh, I know that eventually I should have been able to overcome the guilt … That is the awful irony of it all!"

"It is ironic," he agreed. He rose, helping her to her feet. "Let us see what the picnic can offer us."

The song of the bird (it was some sort of macaw) continued to sound from the tree as they approached the red and white chequered cloth, but another noise began to break through, a sort of shrilling which was familiar to both of them. Then, bursting from the gloom of the city into the sunlight of the illusion, Captain Mubbers, Rokfrug and the other Lat appeared. They were badly out of breath and sweating; they had something of the appearance of bright red, animated turnips. Their three pupils rolled wildly in their eyes as they sighted Jherek and Amelia and came to a confused halt.

"Mibix?" said Rokfrug, recognizing Jherek. "Drexim flug roodi?"

"You are still, I take it, pursued by the police." Amelia was impatient, more than cool towards the intruders, "There is nowhere to hide here."

"Hrunt krufroodi." Captain Mubbers glanced behind him as there came a thundering of boots and the dozen identically clad police officers, evidently as weary as the Lat, burst into the pastoral illusion, paused, blinked, and began to advance towards their quarry, whereupon Captain Mubbers uttered a strangled "Ferkit!" and turned at bay, ready to do battle against their overwhelming numbers.

"Oh, really!" cried Amelia Underwood. "Officer, this will not do!" She addressed the nearest policeman.

The policeman said steadily: "You're all under arrest. You might as well come quietly."

"You intend to arrest us, as well?" Mrs. Underwood bridled.

"Strictly speakin', ma'am, you've been under arrest from the start. All right, lads…" But he hesitated when two loud popping noises sounded, close together, and Lord Jagged of Canaria, the Iron Orchid upon his arm, materialized on the hillock.

Lord Jagged was resplendent in his favourite pale yellow robes, his tall collar framing his patrician features. He seemed in high spirits. The Iron Orchid, at her most stately and beautiful, wore billowing white of an untypical cut and was as happy as her escort.

"At last!" said Lord Jagged, apparently in some relief, "This must be the fiftieth attempt!"

"The forty-ninth, indefatigable Jagged," crooned the Orchid. "I intended to give up on the fiftieth."

Jherek ran towards his friend and his mother. "Oh, Jagged! Cryptic, magnificent, darling Jagged! We have worried about you so much! And Iron Orchid, you are delicious. Where, where have you been?"

The kiss from Jagged's lips on Jherek's was less than chaste and was equalled by the Iron Orchid's. Standing back from them, Mrs. Underwood permitted herself a sniff, but came forward reluctantly as the radiant Orchid beckoned.

"My dears, you will be so delighted by our news! But you seem distraught. What has been happening to you?"

"Well," said Mrs. Underwood with some pleasure, "we are currently under arrest, although the charge is not altogether clear."

"You seem to have a penchant, you two, for falling foul of the law," said Jagged, casting a languid eye over the company. "It's all right, constable. I think you know who I am."

The leading constable saluted, but stood his ground. "Yes, sir," he said uncertainly. "Though we do 'ave orders, direct from the 'Ome Secretary…"

"The Home Secretary, constable, takes his advice from me, as no doubt you are aware…"

"I 'ad 'eard something to that effect, sir." He fingered his chin. "What about these Latvians?"

Lord Jagged shrugged. "I don't think they offer a threat to the Crown any longer."

Jherek Carnelian was overjoyed by his friend's performance. "Excellent, dear Jagged! Excellent!"

"And then, sir, there's some question about it being the end o' the world," continued the constable.

"Don't concern yourself with that, my good man. I'll look into it, the first chance I get."

"Very well, sir." As one in a dream, the policeman signed to his colleagues. "We'd better be getting back, then. Shall we tell Inspector Springer you're in charge now, sir?"

"You might as well, constable."

The policemen wandered out of the illusion and disappeared in the darkness of the city, leaving the Lat somewhat nonplussed. Captain Mubbers looked enquiringly up at Lord Jagged but received a dismissive glance.

Rokfrug had found the food and was cramming his mouth with pie. "Groodnix!" he said. "Trimpit dernik, queely!"

The rest of the Lat seated themselves around the cloth and were soon feasting with gusto.

"So, most miraculous of mothers, you knew all along where to find Lord Jagged!" Jherek hugged her again. "You played the same game, eh?"

"Not at all!" She was offended. "We met quite by accident. I had, it is true, grown so bored with our world that I sought one which would prove more agreeable and some, I'll admit, were interesting, but the Morphail Effect gave me difficulties. I kept being thrown out of one era and into another almost before I knew it. Brannart had warned me, but your experiences had caused me to disbelieve him." She inspected her son from head to foot and her look towards Amelia Underwood was not as critical as it had once been. "You are both pale. You need to replenish your bloom."

"Now we bloom, opulent Orchid! We feared so much for your well-being. Oh, and since you have been gone the world has grown dark…"

"Death, we are told, has come to the universe," put in Amelia, returning the Iron Orchid's glance.

Lord Jagged of Canaria smiled a wide, soft smile. "Well, so we are returned at an opportune moment."

"It depends what you mean by opportune, Lord Jagged." Amelia Underwood pointed out into the darkness. "Even the city dies now."

"Of all our friends," Jherek continued sorrowfully, "only Lord Mongrove and the Duke of Queens survive. The rest are memories only!"

"Memories are sufficient, I think," said Jagged. "They will do."

"You are callous, sir!" Mrs. Underwood adjusted a button at her throat.

"Call me so."

"We expected you to be waiting for us, Jagged," said Jherek Carnelian, "when we returned to the End of Time. Did you not promise to be here — to explain?"

"I arrived, but had to leave again almost at once. Through no fault of my own, I was delayed. My machine failed me. I had to make some experiments. It was in the course of these experiments that I happened to meet your mother and she prevailed upon me to satisfy a whim."

"A whim?" Mrs. Underwood turned away in disgust.

"We are married," said the Iron Orchid almost demurely. "At last."

"Married. I envy you! How did this come about?"

"It was a simple ceremony, Jherek, my juice." She stroked the white material of her gown. It seemed that she blushed.