Lost in Time - Part 1

How to Get Away With Murder

"Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún

Siúil go sochair agus siúil go ciúin

Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom

Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán"

Ann was worried. She asked Hetty, who was about to go out.

"Hetty, what is the problem with your friend? She has been singing sad Irish songs all morning! She skipped breakfast! And where do you think you're going?"

"I'm... I called her, but she told me she wanted to be alone. She's homesick, she says. I'm going to the Opera."

"Hetty, for all intents and purposes, that girl is your sister! Take her with you, cheer her up!"

"I'm trying, Mother, but she won't open up. And I'm not her nanny!"

"I know you're not my 'nanny', Agnes," Hetty and Ann heard that now familiar brogue. "I'm sorry for being such a burden."

"Oh, darling! I didn't say that!" Hetty ran to hug her.

"Where are you going?" asked Saoirse.

"Oh, visit a sick friend. I'm sure they will be glad to see you."

"Whatever. I just want to spend some time with you."

Ann smiled.

"Yes, you girls should go. Socializing is always good."

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"Why did you lie, Hetty?" asked Saoirse, seeing the London Hospital's façade.

"Well... Technically... I didn't."

Saoirse spun Hetty 180 degrees.

"John is not sick. It's mean of you to say that. I'll tell him!"

Hetty bit her lower lip and smiled.

"No, I mean... Who am I to forbid you to see each other? I see the way you look--"

"Oh, please. You know me so little. But of course, I don't blame you. Technically, I don't even exist," joked Saoirse.

Hetty laughed.

"It's just... You've been so sad and I see the way he makes you... happier. As happy as possible for you. I can see you're a very sad person, Saoirse..."

No one had ever talked to Saoirse like that before. No one had ever even seen her...

No one but Agnes. And now, Hetty.

"Come on, Saoirse. Before you start crying again," Hetty snickered.

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Saoirse could hear a violin. For the first time, listening to that sound, her skin crawled.

When they entered, John received them heartily.

And Charles was there. He eyed Saoirse and smirked.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Why, what I always do. Playing for John. Want to meet me later?"

Saoirse had a burst of inspiration. It was the Victorian Age. She knew Jack the Ripper had never been found out.

She knew she could get away with murder.

"Sure, babe," she said, agreeably. "But do me a favor? This time, don't invite anyone."

"Fine by me," he said, sullenly.