Gathering her few possessions back into her bag, she had returned to the platforms to sit on a bench and count out her small collection of change and had found a colourful gypsy-style scarf waiting for her. It was a large, fringed, cotton square dyed dark blue and printed with intricate patterns in purple and aquamarine, lilac and cyan: her colours. Katerina looked around for the woman who must have left it but it was at least as abandoned as she was and she was happy to adopt it. A pang of guilt suggested that she take it to the lost property office as she had done other items she had found. Not money, of course. If she found money it was a gift of the gods! But a briefcase had been handed in once, and a mobile phone. Once she'd been tempted to keep a begemmed bracelet but she had thought that it might be really precious so that too had been reluctantly parted with although the Queen of Coins had smiled at her and whispered, 'keep it,' but the Empress had most definitely frowned. "Be true to yourself," she had said, "or you will certainly lose everything."
     "I have lost everything!" Katerina had snapped back but she had reluctantly obeyed. The queen had pulled a face and shrugged sympathetically but, after all, she was only a queen. Katerina didn't need to ask about the scarf. It reminded her too much of home. It was a gift of the gods, like money. She wrapped it around her shoulders and felt pretty: the kind of a feeling you get when trying on clothes in a real shop and finding just the thing you want. It had to be a good sign.Katerina had lost everything. Twice. The first time she didn't remember. She'd been an infant not more than a few hours old when she had been found. So her 'mother' had told her. Mamma had been walking through the park with her own children, Jelka and Petar, and had heard Katerina crying.
     "Who was my real mother?" Katerina had asked when she was old enough.
     "I am," mamma had replied.
     "But before you?" Katerina had insisted. "Why did she hate me?"
     "She didn't hate you," mamma had said. "She probably loves you and grieves for you to this minute. She was just some poor little girl who wasn't able to have a little girl of her own. You mustn't be angry with her."
     "I'm not angry," Katerina had said, "but…"
     "You'd like to know," said mamma kindly. "I don't think we ever will really know," her mother had mused, "but I think she must have been an angel because you are an angel."
     "Am I?" Katerina had asked wonderingly.
     "Yes you are," mamma had said sweeping her up. "You are an angel who must go to bed."