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Story Notes:
OK, here's a quick tip for a half-developed plot bunny: shroud the whole jig in mystery and it'll give you some time to plan out the backstory before the Big Reveal.

I named Bonnie after a girl at school in the year below me who died of Cystic Fybrosis last year, aged twelve. So you could say that this drabble is in memory of her. Yes, that's what I'll put in the summary. She did, however, bear no resemblance to the character of Bonnie Lloyd, in neither looks nor personality and I don't think her full name was Bonita, I think she was just plain Bonnie. (In case you're interested, she had a tree and a statue of a dog erected at school in her memory. They are 'Bonnie's Tree' and 'Bonnie the Dog'.)
In the dark of the Sonnalpe Sanatorium, the little dark girl made no impression. At only ten, she was too small.

Bonita Lloyd checked her watch. Two am. She was memorable in appearance, with a clear face with pink roses in her cheeks. Her round, almost square blue eyes literally sparkled and the look was set off with a mass of large black ringlets down to her mid-thighs. She was able to sit on it. She put up one hand and brushed her square fringe out of her eyes.

She was obviously rich. Her blue polo-neck had black pinstripes and puffed sleeves. Her skirt was pink silk with two white stripes close to the hem. She had a pink waistcoat and a white frilly apron to protect the whole ensemble. All she wore for outerwear was a light, filmy blue jacket fastened by a pink bow, although it was the dead of winter. Her crisp white knee socks had a wide frill round the top and her pink satin slippers made no noise on the tiles as she walked. She had long wite gloves and when she removed her blue hat, which was one of those little ones that people wear to posh parties, tilted to one side of the head, with a string of pearls round the crown and a pink fabric flower, one could see that she had a cream bow clip in her hair, with a blue fabric rose where the knot was. She had a small greyish-purple bag slung across one shoulder on a thin strap and any keen observer would have deduced that the contents were important, as she gripped the bag tightly with one white-gloved hand. She was the very picture of the immaculate angel-child.

Yet she patrolled the corridors of the Sonnalpe Sanatorium, checking her watch, for all the world as though she ought to be there.

There had been an important operation, and doctors that were usually fast asleep in bed at this hour were now at the San., among them, young Dr. Entwistle. He and his friends had been released to go home and they stopped short as they saw the slight figure pacing. They were alarmed to see a hooded silouhette shootva dart at her then vanish.

All at once, there was instant confusion. The doctors dashed forwards and Reg caught Bonnie as she fell. She could hear yelling, but her brain felt too fuzzy to think. She could hear a man being summoned, but no-one was telling her anything.

"Dr. Maynard?"

"Dr. Maynard!"

"Dr. Maynard, we need you!"

And the doctor holding her erupting into a much louder cry, the forbidden:

"JACK!"

Then she blacked out.



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