Thank you so much for your reviews of the first chapter!
Spoilers for S3E5, Death and Hysteria.
-ooo-
Mrs. Stanley didn't recognize the song at first. Sentimental ballads were not a staple of society events, even during the years of the war.
Nights are growing very lonely
Days are very long;
But the melody and the words were beautiful and haunting and she was unable to withstand the weight of her grief.
Old remembrances are thronging
Thro' my memory
She was powerless to suppress her tears and memories she had tamped down welled up, as clear as ever.
Till it seems the world is full of dreams
Just to call you back to me.
A golden-haired infant, all plump arms and legs and rosy cheeks, beautiful and angelic in sleep.
Knowing, in her heart of hearts, something was not right.
Growing unease when his toddler body and mind didn't work as they were meant to, utter despair with a diagnosis they never would.
Unwilling to try again, terrified it would happen again, her heart breaking as her husband left her bed.
Refusing to give up her child, refusing to give up on her child, she kept him close.
Whispers and innuendos from those who couldn't understand. And didn't want to.
A parade of nurses who couldn't cope. Or didn't want to.
Her first born son, in whom all their hopes and expectations rested, racked by embarrassment and resentment of his younger brother.
Her niece, willing to fight any and all who would deny her cousin the right to play, to be a child, to simply be himself.
His pure joy with the simplest things – sweets and scallop pie and the lightness of his unwieldy body floating in the swimming pool.
A playroom, once inhabited by a child in a man's body, now vacant and silent.
A soprano rose over the male voices and she could find peace in the words.
I forget that you're not with me yet
When I think I see you smile.
She drew comfort from her most unlikely acquaintances – two cabbies (Communists, no less!), a lady's companion, a policeman. All of them had accepted her son without judgement and were here to honor his memory.
Where the nightingales are singing
And a white moon beams.
She had done everything in her power to give her son a happy life, to care for him and love him and shield him from ugliness in the world. She listened to her niece sing and let her sweet voice wash away the sorrow.
Till the day when I'll be going down
That long, long trail with you.