Clodagh was nineteen when her parents packed her off to college
and a relative''s house in north London. Two years earlier, a
tragic death on a hydro tower had marked her life. She was blamed
for it and that was why her family was sending her away.
Her new home, Maida Vale, was not what she imagined. There were
mansions like Italian palaces and the towers of a Victorian
metropolis. And her relatives were not suited to looking after a
wayward and lonely niece.
Clodagh''s lonely existence in Maida Vale is broken by a chance
encounter with Michael Silverman, or Silver, as everyone called
him. Generous, kind, and thoughtful, he played host to a strange
crew of drop-outs in his apartment at the top of his parents''
house. Their pleasure was to roam the rooftops. It was a happy,
heady time until the moment when, on a trek fifty feet above the
street, they looked into a window and saw a scene that would lead
to another great tragedy in Clodagh''s life.