The man beside her, athletic with an expensive watch and cultivated stubble, tightened his grip when he noticed her attention wandering. The girl immediately looked down, shifting from interested to invisible in seconds. Marwood continued his march, face betraying nothing, but his combat-trained mind had flagged the interaction for observation.
As the ceremony progressed, Marwood maintained his ceremonial precision while keeping the girl and her stepfather in his peripheral vision. The contrast between them grew more apparent with each passing minute. The man’s confident, almost arrogant bearing versus the child’s careful measured movements.
A family with two young boys about Lily’s age moved through the crowd, positioning themselves next to Sam and Lily. The mother smiled warmly at Lily, her eyes crinkling at the corners. First time seeing the changing of the guard, she asked Lily, her Scottish accent gentle and friendly.
My boys have been talking about it all week. Before Lily could respond, Sam shifted slightly, placing himself between her and the woman. We’re trying to watch if you don’t mind, he said, with a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Of course, sorry to bother, the woman replied, exchanging a quick glance with her husband. Lily’s eyes dropped to the ground, but not before Marwood caught her longing look at the other children. The boys were giggling, pointing excitedly at the guard’s bearskin caps, their parents encouraging their enthusiasm.
The contrast with Lily’s enforced silence was striking. As Marwood executed a perfect turn, his line of sight briefly included Sam and Lily again. The man had bent down, whispering something in the girl’s ear.
Though his expression remained pleasant for any onlookers, Lily’s face had drained of colour. When Sam straightened up, he casually adjusted Lily’s collar. The movement pulled her sleeve up just enough to reveal distinct bruising around her upper arm, the unmistakable pattern of fingerprints left by an adult hand gripping too tightly.
A middle-aged couple standing nearby noticed it too. The woman’s hand flew to her mouth and she whispered something to her husband, who frowned deeply at Sam. Lovely ceremony, isn’t it? the man said, deliberately engaging Sam while his wife smiled at Lily.
Your daughter seems fascinated by it all. Sam’s jaw tightened visibly. She’s not really interested in this stuff, he replied curtly.
We’re just killing time before our tour. Oh, but she seems quite engaged, the woman persisted kindly, bending slightly toward Lily. Are you enjoying the guards, sweetheart? Lily’s eyes widened, caught between hope and terror.
She glanced up at Sam, whose smile had hardened into something dangerous that only she recognised. She’s shy, Sam said, pulling Lily against his side, with what appeared to be fatherly affection, but was actually a warning squeeze. And we don’t talk to strangers, do we, Lily? No, Sam, she whispered, the formality of using his name not lost on the couple.
As the formation changed again, Marwood’s path brought him closer to their position. He could see Lily tracking his movements with unusual intensity for a child her age. Something in her gaze reminded him of civilians in war zones, people looking for someone, anyone who might help.
Sam noticed her watching the guards and bent down again. Remember what happens if you make a scene, he whispered, his voice carrying just far enough for Marwood to hear. Straight back home and you know what that means.
Lily’s small body tensed and she nodded quickly, fear flashing across her face. The elderly couple exchanged concerned glances, the woman’s hand clutching her husband’s arm as they observed Sam’s increasingly controlling behaviour. When Sam turned away momentarily to check his phone, the husband, a retired teacher with 40 years’ experience recognising troubled children, made another attempt.
Pardon me, he said quietly to Lily, but I dropped my programme, would you be kind enough to hand it to me? He gestured to the ceremonial programme that had fallen suspiciously close to Lily’s feet. Lily looked up at Sam, who was still distracted, then carefully bent to retrieve the paper. As she extended it toward the man, their fingers touched briefly.
Are you alright dear? the woman whispered, her eyes kind but concerned. Lily’s lips parted, words forming but unspoken as Sam’s attention snapped back to her. What did I just say about talking to strangers? Sam hissed, snatching the programme and thrusting it at the elderly man.
Here’s your paper, now mind your own business. He grabbed Lily’s arm roughly, pulling her away from the couple and closer to the parade barrier. The sudden movement caused Lily’s sleeve to ride up, revealing a distinctive pattern of bruises at different healing stages, some yellow and fading, others fresh and purple.
We’re just concerned, the elderly man began. About what? Sam interrupted, his voice carrying enough of an edge that nearby tourists turned to look. About a father spending the day with his daughter, is that so unusual? Stepdaughter, Lily corrected automatically, her voice barely audible.
The crowd’s shift had positioned them closer to where Marwood stood at attention. Though his eyes remained fixed ahead as protocol demanded, his training allowed him to register every detail of the escalating situation just feet away. What did you say? Sam’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, fingers digging into Lily’s shoulder.
Nothing, sorry Sam, she replied quickly, shrinking into herself. The elderly woman took a step forward, maternal instinct overriding caution. Young man, that child is clearly… Mind your own family and I’ll mind mine, Sam cut her off, his charm completely evaporated.