Ginger fainted.With a groan, Ginger woke up. What a horrible nightmare. She couldn’t believe that she’d had a dream where she’d lost her ... los... her ... what was the word? Lost her smartness.With a sudden surge through the fog of her mind, Ginger came fully awake. She looked frantically around - she realized she was lying across the end of her bed, her robe still on though it hung mostly open. And Gabe was sitting at the other end.Holding the little statue the man had given her, and turning it. These homes, small mansions, graced the promenade at the turn of the nineteenth century standing nobly amongst the collection of workshops, boat-builders and hovels spreading away toward the wind and tidal mills west of the town. They were the homes of traders and merchants bringing goods from the hinterland for onward shipment by sailing barge to the capital, their warehouses fronting the narrow streets leading away from the promenade. The dead silence of the pre-dawn magnifies the funereal. More

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