Ten minutes later we're sat in one of the backrooms drinking cups of coffee. I've just finished telling Mari what I need, and there's a tense silence draped over the room. Lynch looks deeply uncomfortably, and is eyeing the door as though she plans to leap to her feet and run at any moment .
Mari takes a long drink of her coffee. "So you need a place to stay tonight?" she says carefully. I nod. Of course, I've only told her what she needs to know. That Lynch is running away from some bad people who mean her harm, and that she needs somewhere to stay for a night before she gets the first train out in the morning. And that we have to steer clear of the police.
"I promise, Mari, I wouldn't ask unless it was really important."
Mari looks searchingly at me, and then at Lynch. For the first time she addresses her directly. "You're that one the police are all out in force looking for, aren't you? The 'terrorist'?"
Lynch nods cautiously. "That's me."
Mari looks back at me. "And you're telling me that the police have got it wrong, yes? That Lynch is innocent?"
"Yes," I say. "But if they find her they won't even give her a chance. These people who she's running from, they're . . . well, they're powerful. They have a lot of influence."
Mari nods thoughtfully and then sits back in her chair. "This is a lot to take in for a Monday."
I start to apologise again, but Mari waves it away. She looks to Lynch again.
"Tell me," she says. "Is this true? Are you in danger? And the people you're running from; are they the bad guys in all this?"
Lynch looks directly at her with serious, sleepless eyes. "It's true," she says. "All of it."
For a moment Mari's expression is unreadable, and I feel my first real twinge of worry. What if she decides to call in the police anyway? But a second later Mari nods and gets to her feet.
"You can stay," she says. "But you'll need a ticket if you're getting the first train of the day. Some ID would help as well, and some decent clothes."
I'm elated that Mari's going to help us, but I control myself. One thing at a time, I tell myself. Don't let your guard down until it's over. "I can lend Lynch some of my clothes," I say, "But I don't know where to get ID from. Maybe . . . maybe she'll be okay without."
"It's okay," says Mari with a smile. "I'll whip you up a student card using the library card printer. That should get you on the train okay. Let me just grab my camera."
She moves to leave, but just as she's going I call out, "Mari," and she turns. I stand up. "Thank you for this. Thank you for helping."
The next thing I know Mari is hugging me tight against her shoulder. It's been a long time since anyone hugged me like this, like a mother, and for a moment I tight little ball in my throat and I'm tired and I want to go home and Mari whispers into my ear, "You're a good girl, Laura. This'll all turn out okay," and we just stand there holding each other for a long, long time.
