He'd made a terrible mistake. A stupid, horrendous mistake. Having made countless decisions over a lifetime – some well-considered, others bewildering and impulsive – this had been the bravest in a good while. Or so, he thought. Turns out, it was just plain mad. And as the minutes dragged on, it was becoming patently clear, this was shaping to be the most ridiculous thing he'd done in a long time. But it was too late for regrets. Cursing his stupidity, he'd just have to carry on and make the best of it...

If only the tightness in his chest would go away. It was now getting difficult to breathe. For a mad moment, he wondered if he was having a heart attack. A stroke, perhaps…?

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he struggled to breathe. His finger found the starched collar of his shirt, and he tugged it away from his throat. God, it was suffocating in here. He couldn't remember ever having to think so hard about taking his next breath, the one after that, and then the next one

Why the Hell did he bring Elsa here…?

Telling himself to stop fidgeting, he tried to force a smile. But it was gone before it ever appeared.

This was Agathe's café.

It's where they'd come for a quiet lunch, a coffee and cake, or just to sit and talk. Well, she'd talk. He'd just sit there and listen – mesmerised, completely captivated, always wondering why such a beautiful woman would settle for a fool like him. It was his way of getting her all to himself. No risk of bumping into friends, inviting themselves to sit at their table; no children; somewhere away from the maddening crowds.

He glanced around, his eyes darting from one familiar object to the next – a faded watercolour of the Alps, a small cowbell over the front door, five-inch-high cakes under glass cloches, lining the counter while waiting for the next customer to order a slice. He didn't dare dwell on anything for more than a moment, not willing to risk triggering a memory he wasn't quite ready to face. They'd already been sitting here for ten excruciating minutes – it felt like ten hours – and still, his eyes hadn't dared venture anywhere near their table in the back corner. He hoped no one was sitting there, but neither could he face it being empty.

What was he thinking bringing Elsa here?

An hour ago, it had seemed like the perfect place to avoid bumping into anyone they knew, a chance for him to get his head around this whole engagement business. He swallowed a sigh. Had he really proposed? He still wasn't sure.

Perhaps he'd come here hoping for some kind of blessing. Guilty eyes glanced up at the decorative ceiling. Forgive me, Agathe, my love. Realising he must look like a fool, he lowered his eyes to gaze at Elsa. I was always going to propose, he reminded himself. It's not you, Elsa, it's this damn cafe…

Thankfully, she hadn't stopped talking since they'd arrived. He forced the corners of his mouth to shift, rewarding her with a smile. But it was quickly gone. What kind of a man was he? Bringing his future wife to a place that held so many precious memories of his late wife. Coming here had been a monumental mistake. God, help him…

Dropping his eyes, the red and white gingham napkin stared back at him, its bright, but faded, colours belonging to a different time. His finger picked at the frayed hem defiantly. Agathe avoided women like Elsa. Too flashy, too pushy, too fake… Frowning at her voice in his head, he realised there couldn't be a blessing while it still felt like a betrayal.

Something made his fingers stop and he suddenly looked up. Elsa was laughing. It must be at one of her jokes or some witty observation. He forced a chuckle, trying to match her brightness. Trying to ignore the stab of guilt. It just added to the tightness in his chest. He'd have to announce their engagement in the newspaper sooner or later. But that could wait. He couldn't think about that now. Not here. Not in Agathe's café…

Reaching for the glass of water in front of him, his mouth was dry – so dry, he could barely swallow past the lump in his throat. Fighting the urge to gulp it down in one mouthful, he forced himself to take a sip. Reaching for the jug, he topped up Elsa's glass before refilling his.

What in God's name had he been thinking?

Pushing open the door, full of bravado, he'd brushed aside the doubts in his head. Boldly ignoring their table in the corner, he'd ushered Elsa to a table by the safety of the window with all the misplaced confidence of Napolean launching his ill-fated campaign against the Russians. Hmph! We all know how that ended…

"Do you recommend anything, Georg?" Elsa looked up from the menu with a well-concealed frown.

"They do a good schnitzel…" he bravely looked at the menu for the first time since it was placed on the table. Like everything else, it hadn't changed in four years. The place was a time capsule from a different world. "Perhaps one of the salads?" Pushing his own copy of the menu aside, he already knew what he was ordering. "I think I'll have the goulash…"

"It's been a good while since I've seen some of these on a menu," Elsa chatted away, her head buried in the list of dishes. Some may call them traditional – she preferred to think of them as rustic.

"Ready to order, darling," Georg asked after a few minutes of silence dragged by.

"Oh, as ready as I'll ever be," Elsa muttered under her breath, before remembering herself and looking up from the menu with a brilliant smile.

Feeling his body tighten, he suddenly realised Elsa had expected somewhere fancier. Too flashy, too pushy, too fake… Trying to ignore Agathe's voice in his head, he nodded defiantly at a waitress in the distance. The girl made her way across the room, standing eagerly with notepad and pencil ready. She reminded him of one of the young cadets from another lifetime, enthusiastically awaiting his orders before launching into battle.

Having hidden his disappointment at the unchanged menu, he felt a surge of relief when Elsa didn't order Agathe's favourite dish – a simple sandwich of corned beef and sauerkraut. After a while, the staff gave up asking...

Watching the young girl disappear with their order, he hoped the kitchen would turn it around quickly so they could be out of here as soon as possible. He prayed it wouldn't take long…

"Such a quaint little place, Georg," Elsa declared brightly, hoping to hide her lingering surprise at being brought somewhere so kitsch.

Nodding, he gave her a smile. Perhaps she wasn't too flashy or pretentious, after all…

"It reminds me of that delightful place just out of Vienna…"

Happy to get lost in one of her stories, he glanced out the window beside him. Fighting back a yawn, the past nights of restless sleep were taking their toll. His chest still tight, but his breathing no longer a conscious effort, he looked out the window longingly. He'd kill for some fresh air. Turning back to Elsa, he hesitated. Realisation growing, he froze. Who had he just seen? Spinning back to the window, he scanned the world outside.

Good Lord, it can't be!

Straining his eyes, he tried to focus on a woman in the crowd across the street. Her back was turned, she was thin and wearing grey. But it was her hair that held his attention. Short, strawberry blonde…

Maria…?

His hands found the arms of his chair, clutching tightly – one moment holding on for dear life, the next, fighting the urge to jump out of the chair, push through the door and race across the street. But why would she be here? He couldn't answer that. He could barely think, with the blood pounding in his ears. Or was that his heart beat he could hear? Now, he did feel like he was having a heart attack. Praying no one else could hear his heart thumping against his ribs, he held his breath, holding on for what felt like forever.

Watching her move, the world turning in slow motion, he hoped to catch her eye through the glass. Surely, she'd have to see him… He hoped she'd see him. If not, his hand had already loosened its grip on the arm of the chair, ready to wave to get her attention if he had to. After what seemed an eternity, she began to face him. His heart suddenly stopped altogether and dropped like a lump of lead to his stomach.

It wasn't her…

Strangely, the woman looked nothing like Maria. In fact, her hard features couldn't be more different. His fingers drummed the table. Still staring at the woman, he couldn't believe it wasn't Maria. Exhaustion was affecting his judgement. His body slumped back against the chair, as he tried to soothe his disappointment with something of a consolation. At least he wouldn't have to make a fool of himself…

"…you do remember, don't you, Georg…?"

Having been the background noise while his thoughts ran wild, it took a moment or two before realising, he could no longer hear Elsa.

"In that little village, we visited with Max…?"

Still smarting with disappointment, he turned away from the window, back to Elsa. "…Mmmm…?" Raising a brow across the table, he wondered what she'd been talking about. God, had she asked him a question…?

"Oh, Georg!" Huffing her annoyance, Elsa rolled her eyes. "You seem miles away..."

"I'm sorry, darling," he reached across the table and patted the back of her hand, lingering for a moment before remembering where they were and withdrawing his hand abruptly. I'm sorry, Agathe, my love…

"You're not worried about the children, I hope," she tut-tutted, still bothered by his neglect and more annoyed than she cared to admit by children's earlier reaction. "You know Max is more than capable of looking after them for a few hours."

"I know…" Georg smiled, happy to use the children as an excuse. She was right. Still, he had been troubled by their lukewarm reaction to the news of their engagement. Somehow, he'd hoped it would improve their mood. It had only made things worse. He'd debated how to tell them, perhaps hoping to delay it for as long as possible. But in the end, their questions had prompted an awkward announcement on the terrace. They just need time to get used to the idea – they all did. "I'm sure Max is keeping them entertained," he added, more for his benefit than Elsa's.

"Oh, he's probably giving them singing lessons," her flippant comment was met by a blank look. "Preparing them for the Festival…" she added with a slight drop of her head to the side.

"What…?" Georg snapped.

"I'm joking, Georg," Elsa's smile grew into a low, throaty laugh.

"Of course, you are, darling," Georg forced another smile. He reached across the table and patted her hand. Just the once, this time. "Still… I wouldn't put it past him…" he added under his breath.

"Honestly, Georg, I don't know why you're so against the idea," Elsa was suddenly serious. "They have such lovely voices."

"I don't want my children singing in public," trying to take the edge off his statement, it still sounded blunt and defensive. But couldn't she understand? He didn't want his children getting swept up in some scheme, only for Max or someone else to take advantage of them. He wanted his children to be children, not part of someone's circus. Especially, after all that had happened…

"You couldn't have been clearer to Max," Elsa took a sip of the Chardonnay that had been delivered to their table after placing their order. A lovely drop, sweetened by the hot French sun and mild Mediterranean winters. "They've probably all gone on a picnic or something," she waved her hand in the air, not really sure what the children got up to when they were outside running amok.

"Mmmm, perhaps…" Georg settled back into his chair, appearing nonchalant and relaxed.

Underneath the carefully curated façade, he felt neither…

oOo

"Would you like anything else, Herr Detweiler?"

Jumping with surprise, Max's eyes shot open. Clearing his throat, he turned leftwards, toward the sweet voice. He went to open his mouth, but hesitated. Another slice of last night's strudel would go rather nicely. But he thought better of it. Since arriving a few weeks ago, he'd already had to loosen his trouser belt a notch.

"Oh, no… thank you, though," Max smiled at one of Georg's young maids. "That will do nicely," he added, nodding at the jug of lemonade and tall glass being set down on the table beside him. The pretty young thing returned his smile and hurried back inside. He chuckled to himself. Frau Schmidt kept them all on such a tight leash, especially the younger ones. Probably best though. They liked nothing better than to find a quiet corner to exchange titbits of gossip. He smiled. Young ladies after his own heart!

Pouring himself a glass of lemonade, he took a long sip. Staring out from the shaded terrace across to the lake, he sighed. He could get used to this kind of lifestyle. Such a shame it belonged to Georg. The man didn't appreciate how lucky he was. It wasn't Georg who had to keep throwing out hints for invites and making the most of the occasional stay here and there. He sighed again. It wasn't easy, constantly moving from one rich friend's villa to the next. It lacked a certain kind of stability.

Perhaps with Georg and Elsa's impending nuptials, he might be able to stay a little longer. Maybe Elsa needed help with the preparations. Well, he could ably assist with the entertainment. He chuckled to himself. Poor old Georg – she'd finally worn him down! She was a formidable force when she set her mind to something. The man had done well, holding out as long as he did.

Hmmm… He smoothed down his moustache, contemplating the possibilities. He might suggest extending his stay while the happy couple were off honeymooning. After all, someone had to look after the children.

The children…?

Narrowing his eyes against the glare, he glanced out into the distance – looking left, then right. Not long ago, he'd waved goodbye to the children as they'd pedalled off into the distance. Thankfully, they were happy to puddle through the afternoon without him. He should be feeling guilty, but he didn't. Try as he might to brighten their mood these past days, nothing he did seem to make much difference. There'd been a time when he could bring out their smiles and turn giggles into laughter without any effort. He was embarrassed to admit, he'd found himself feeling a little envious of the governess and her hold over the children.

Fraulein Maria…

He sighed, placing his glass on the table beside him. Who could have imagined she'd end up taking off with barely a word? That might have been unexpected, but the indelible mark she'd left on everyone was totally predictable. He had to confess, even he was missing her infectious smile, no nonsense attitude and joie de vivre.

Could anyone light up a room quite like her?

He doubted it. He'd even caught Georg being swept up in the girl's aura, staring at her like some love-sick fool. Chuckling to himself, he remembered the old goat ended up serenading her that night he was supposed to be entertaining the children.

He let out another sigh – heavier, this time. He had hoped to take advantage of her powers of persuasion over Georg at the party, but he'd never had the chance. They could have made a formidable team – him working wonders with the children and their talents, while she kept Georg in check.

Georg…

Unfortunately, the man had reverted to type. A grumpy, cantankerous old fool. It would be criminal not to foster his children's talents. But trying to convince him, especially while he was in this mood, was a waste of time. Clearly, Georg had a soft spot for the girl – they all did – but she was only ever going to be here for the summer. Her returning to the Abbey a few weeks earlier shouldn't have been such a shock. At least, he'd stopped moping long enough to finally do the right thing by Elsa.

Stretching his legs out in front of him, he crossed them at the ankles, and closed his eyes against the early afternoon glare. With the children off picking berries, he should have an hour or two to himself. They would be home long before their father, so Georg won't even have to know he rewarded himself with a quiet afternoon while the children were off amusing themselves.

Better still, Frau Muntz will turn the berries into one of her delicious desserts. Far better than that French mess Elsa had them eating last night. Crème blah, or whatever it was supposed to be…

Leaning back in the chair, he shuffled in the seat, getting comfortable. Now that Elsa finally had Georg all to herself, she'd keep him out for as long as possible. Closing his eyes, his breathing growing heavier, the birdsong in the distance drifted further and further away…

oOo

"Oh, isn't this wonderful, Georg?" Elsa trilled, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. Holding her head high, she revelled in the frequent glances from passers-by, the nudges and whispers from groups, dotted along the footpath, and the triumph of knowing Georg was officially hers. Of course, there'd have to be an announcement. She lifted her chin a half inch and pinned back her shoulders. That was a mere formality. For all intents and purposes, the man was hers. "Such a glorious afternoon!"

Having left the café behind a short while ago, they were now strolling along the river. The sunshine had brought out the people and it was easy to get swept up in the bustling crowds.

"It's so nice to steal some time alone," Elsa added.

"Mmmm, it is, isn't it," Georg agreed as they strolled along Rudolfskai, the promenade running along the south bank of the Salzach River.

"It's a shame you have to go to that awful meeting," Elsa continued, hoping to change his mind. "It's far too beautiful a day to waste on work."

Georg laughed. "If it weren't so important…" if I hadn't wasted two hours yesterday parked outside Nonnberg like a fool "…I'd agree with you, darling," he smiled. "It shouldn't take too long…"

"Still…" she pouted.

Georg patted the hand that was holding his arm. His mind drifted to the reason why the papers remained unsigned. Maria... He hadn't thought of her for at least as long as the children. Ten, maybe fifteen, minutes. For some reason, thinking of one, meant thinking of the other. They were so intertwined. Why couldn't he separate the two? He had to stop thinking about her, had to get her out of his head. After all, she'd decided to leave them and move on. He had to do the same. Still, she'd left such an impression on them all, it might just take a little longer…

"…don't you think so, Georg?"

"I'm not sure," he mumbled in response, not sure what she'd been talking about, let alone what he was supposed to be agreeing to.

"Well, we should take advantage of everyone's kindness," Elsa continued, oblivious to Georg's indifference. "Perhaps a garden party, or maybe a dinner."

"A dinner…?" God, what had she been talking about?

"Yes… but dinner parties can be so tricky," she sighed. "Who to invite, who not to invite – someone always ends up feeling left out. It's such a dilemma."

"Perhaps it's easier not to have one…" Georg suggested hopefully.

"That's why I think a garden party might be better," Elsa answered brightly. "Everyone can come along, it's nice and informal…" although she'd have to find a suitable sun dress, "and it would be a shame not to take advantage this weather," she patted Georg's arm. "It's simply too perfect!"

"Well, maybe…"

"Oh, Georg, if we're smart about it," Elsa was on a roll now, "we could arrange it for the weekend and announce our engagement to everyone…"

He felt his body tighten.

"…imagine how wonderful that would be! Surrounded by family and friends…"

And all the local sticky-beaks… he thought glumly, guiding Elsa through a crowd of people who were seated outside one of the cafés. A haunt for musicians and artistic types, just like his sister, its façade looked shabby and more low key than other shops along the promenade. Thankfully, the crowd was far too Bohemian and not so easily impressed, so they didn't bother to turn and stare.

"So, what do you think, Georg?" Elsa persisted.

"We're just getting over the party, aren't we?" Answering a question with another question rarely made any sense. "Do you think we need to launch into a garden party so soon?" Yet another question…

"Oh, Georg!" Elsa pouted. "It's not just another party – it would be our Engagement Party!"

Thankfully, they were approaching a large crowd that had spilled across the footpath, so he wouldn't have to respond straight away. The shop where the crowd had gathered was painted in bright colours, with a queue snaking out of the doorway.

"Why would anyone be wanting to go in there?" Elsa asked under her breath, tut-tutting at the gaudy colours.

"The best ice-cream and sorbet in Salzburg," Georg explained, nodding his thanks as people stepped aside to let them through.

"Ice-cream?" Elsa muttered, shaking her head in disbelief as they passed through the crowd.

"Mmmm…" Georg murmured with a glance back over his shoulder. There was a time, when Agathe would have begged him to stop, not letting him walk past without joining the queue. A lemon sorbet in a small cup for her, vanilla ice-cream in a cone for him – dipped in chocolate, of course. But he couldn't picture Elsa wanting to sit at one of the tables outside the brightly coloured shop, let alone eating sorbet or ice-cream. Swallowing a sigh, he guided her down a side street, leaving the river and happy crowds behind.

With a forefinger, he pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and jacket. Fifteen minutes to three. Fifteen minutes before he was due at the solicitors. They turned from the narrow side street into the street with many of Salzburg's most exclusive boutiques, milliners and shoe designers. Surely, Elsa should be able to occupy herself here for an hour.

"Oh, this looks like fun!" Elsa gushed, her eyes eagerly scouring the shop windows. It was true, since arriving in Salzburg, this was the closest she'd seen to haute couture or anything resembling recent trends. Still, it paled in comparison to Vienna's exclusive boutiques. "Georg, I'm not sure why you've been keeping this part of town a secret," she teased him.

"I'm not sure why either, darling," Georg conceded. Truth be told, he couldn't think of anything more tedious than sitting in a boutique watching Elsa being measured, while getting drawn into mindless debates over the best colours, shades of colour and fabrics.

A stab of guilt reminded him of the hours he'd spent watching Agathe at the dressmaker's, completely enthralled. Despite her good-natured complaints about a body constantly changing with motherhood, she'd try to stand still while the dressmaker expertly re-measured her, struggling not to giggle. With little more than a glance in his direction, she'd be blushing, knowing the wicked thoughts lurking under his detached façade.

Clearing his throat, he told himself, the differences couldn't be more stark. Black and white, north and south, Agathe and Elsa – all polar opposites of the other. Able to occupy the same thought, despite triggering very different responses.

It doesn't mean anything, he quickly told himself. Anyway, you're too old for that kind of thing…

Frowning, his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sound…

Laughter… musical, carefree, joyous.

After such a long absence, it was the kind of laughter he'd grown used to once again. But it couldn't possibly be – could it?

Casually, turning his head, he glanced over his shoulder.

Maria…?!

His eyes scoured the footpath behind them. A dark-haired woman was standing with a young man. Far too close to one another, it was obvious they were flirting. Throwing her head back, with a toss of her hair, she laughed – there it was, again – spontaneous, unbridled laughter.

Feeling despondent, but unsure why, he turned away. Just his mind playing tricks… He patted Elsa's hand where she still held the crook of his arm. As much a reminder she was there, than a sign of affection. "Let's go in here, darling," he forced a cheerfulness in his voice that he wasn't feeling.

Ushering Elsa through the doorway and into the relative safety of the boutique, he quickly followed, closing the door behind them. It was Frau Koenig's boutique, one that was never Agathe's first choice. Or second, for that matter…

He lingered for a moment at the doorway, his eyes searching the street through the pane of glass.

Seeing things was one thing, but hearing things…

He cleared his throat, turning to the task at hand. Efficient introductions, make sure Elsa is comfortable and has Frau Koenig's full attention, then get out of here. And if he hurried, he might just make his meeting on time.

"Captain von Trapp!" Frau Koenig was already half-way across the store to greet them.

He smiled at her awkwardly, reminding himself to concentrate on the introductions, not on strangers on the street. Still, it was impossible not to be thrown a little by how easily his imagination conjured up images of Maria. His fingers started flexing beside his leg.

He wondered if it were possible. Could he be losing his mind…?

oOo

"I knew it wouldn't work…" Friedrich muttered under his breath.

"No, you didn't!" Louisa snapped. "This was as much your idea as anyone's."

"Hmph!" Friedrich huffed, his shoulders slumping as they slowly retreated on the uneven cobblestones.

"Why couldn't we see Fraulein Maria?" Marta asked, her voice soft and sad.

"She was busy," Liesl placed a comforting arm around her sister's shoulders.

"But she's never too busy," Greta looked up at her oldest sister, confused. "Not for us…"

"What do we do now?" Kurt asked, dragging his feet down the hill, away from the Abbey.

His question hung heavy around them, with no one quite brave enough to answer. Their silence was finally broken by the distant tolling of a bell – one, two and then a third.

"Three o'clock…" Friedrich hissed, turning worried eyes to Liesl.

"Come on everyone! We need to hurry…" Liesl nodded back at her brother, ushering Marta and Gretl along the narrow street. Their bus would be leaving from Residenzplatz, the town square, in twenty minutes. If they missed it, they'd have to wait two more hours for the next one.

"Do you think we'll get home before Father?" Brigitta asked no one in particular.

"We will, if you move your feet faster!" Friedrich snapped. It was far too late for regrets, but he wished they hadn't ridden their bikes to Palting. At the time, it had seemed like a brilliant idea. Ride their bikes on the country lanes to the small village and catch a bus on a different route. That way, they wouldn't run into Father. But now that they weren't allowed to see Fraulein Maria, much less speak to her, it seemed like such a lame idea.

Even if they did catch the bus in twenty minutes, with a half hour bike ride from Palting to home, they'd be cutting it fine. Still, he supposed it was better than running the risk of Father finding them on the main road to town. He cast an eye around, making sure everyone was keeping up with the faster pace he was setting. "Hurry up, Kurt!" he called out impatiently over his shoulder.

He couldn't bear to think what kind of row there'd be if they were late home. Not with Father having been so grumpy these past days…

oOo

Drawing in a deep breath, he paused for a moment at the top step and placed his hat on his head. He looked up and down the street – searching for something, but not exactly sure what. The sound of the door to the solicitor's office banged behind him, a reminder to keep moving. Taking the steps down to street level, he waited for a pair of businessmen to pass before stepping onto the footpath to make his way back to Frau Koenig's boutique.

Hopefully, Elsa had managed to keep herself entertained, going through designs and colours, or whatever else women did. Actually, he hoped they'd finished. He couldn't bear sitting around being asked his opinion, trying to choose between ten shades that all looked like the same colour, feigning interest, desperate not to say something foolish. What in God's name did he know about fashion?

The shadows had lengthened, and the streets were busier than they had been an hour ago, now filled with people shopping for last minute goods before the stores closed, and people who'd already left work for the day. Walking down the street, he slowed and turned into a side street. It was hardly surprising that much of the foot traffic was heading in the same direction. After all, it led to the Residenzplatz, Salzburg's town square where people caught buses to the railway station or at this time of day, home.

Looking down, he avoided making eye contact with any of the passers-by. At least, with Elsa on his arm, strangers were less inclined shake his hand or stop to talk. Hopefully, she was still in the same shop where he'd left her. He didn't relish the idea of going from one boutique to the next searching for her. Without breaking stride, he quickly checked his watch. Not yet four. It seemed to take an age to go through the papers and sign them off, but perhaps not as long as he'd thought.

His feet slowed and he stopped in front of a shop window. Rosenberg Tailors. Perhaps he should get measured for a new suit. This summer, he'd put on the weight he'd lost – plus some – and he really should do something about it. His eyes circled the shop window, moving from one suit to the next, to the autumn coats, before landing on the rows of colourful ties. Maybe he had time to purchase a tie, something to brighten things up a little…

He froze. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at the reflection in the window. Spinning around, his heart already racing, he looked across the street, searching desperately. Nothing…

Ignoring the crowd, he stepped away from the tailor's shopfront, across the footpath, toward the gutter. Oblivious to the elderly gentleman who pulled up suddenly to avoid bumping into him, he didn't even hear the man cursing under his breath. Standing on the edge of the footpath, he looked across the street, left then right, up and down the opposite footpath. Still nothing…

It must have been his imagination. Sighing, he reluctantly turned and started walking again in the direction of Frau Koenig's. Still, his eyes kept darting from the crowd ahead of him to the footpath across the road, scanning and searching for a glimpse of short blonde hair. He sighed again. He could have sworn he'd seen her reflection…

He stopped. His heart skipping a beat before taking off, racing ahead at a million miles an hour. Surely, it couldn't be…

In the distance, on the opposite side of the street, he could see short blonde hair bobbing up and down, in and out of the crowd. Shouldn't she be tucked away at the Abbey? With no time to waste, his feet started moving, quickly carrying him along the footpath. There wasn't time to try and cross the street, he might lose sight of her in the crowd. She wouldn't get away from him this time…

His eyes kept shifting from the back of her head to the footpath in front of him as he tried to avoid the businessmen strolling back from long lunches to the office; embarrassed mothers trying to tame their tired, unruly children; and older women picking up groceries for tonight's dinner but stopping to chat with a neighbour or friend instead. He thought of calling out to her, but realised she wouldn't hear him above the din of the crowd. His eyes glanced ahead of him, they were coming to an intersection.

Where in God's name was she going?

He quickened his pace, desperate not to lose sight of her. Which way was she going? He kept his eyes on her as they approached the intersection where the two main streets crossed. He couldn't lose her…

"Hmph…" he stopped suddenly as a young man barrelled into his chest. Winded, he pushed the man away from him and glared. "Watch where you're going, lad…" he growled trying to fill his lungs and catch his breath.

"Sorry, sir…" the youth, not much older than Friedrich, apologised.

Having already wasted too much time, his feet started moving again – faster now than before. Searching for her in the sea of people, he strained his eyes across the street, down toward the intersection. Where was she? She was supposed to be at the Abbey. What was she doing out on the streets?

His eyes fell on short blonde hair in the distance. Relief washing over him, he quickened his pace. Unfortunately, it didn't last long. His heart dropped as she turned down the side street, away from him. He had to catch her. She'd got away once before; he wouldn't let it happen again. Breaking out into a trot, he hurried toward the intersection, dodging people in his way.

Reaching the crossroads, he turned left and started crossing the street, searching for her – she can't have got too far ahead. The side street was much less crowded. He was back in the street of exclusive boutiques and shops. He stopped – looking, searching, hoping.

There she was!

He started moving again, faster this time. She was wearing a blue-green dress. Where was her habit? Resisting the urge to call out, he noticed she was carrying a bag and guitar case. Had she left the Abbey? But she'd missed it so much, there hadn't been time for a proper goodbye before leaving them. Were they sending her somewhere else? She belonged with him and the children, not with strangers.

She'd reached a laneway and disappeared down it. She must be going towards the square to catch a bus, or perhaps she was going to the train station. He quickened his pace. If she got away, he might never find her again. The thought sliced through his heart like a knife…

"Ge-org…?"

Stopping, he frowned and spun around. Elsa…? She was standing on the footpath several shops behind him, waving to get his attention. He turned away from her, back to where Maria had disappeared down the lane. He hesitated, fighting every fibre in his body not to chase after her. But he couldn't, not with Elsa calling out to him from the doorway of Frau Koenig's boutique. Without realising, he must have walked right past it.

Reluctantly, he turned, and started walking back to where Elsa stood. Perhaps it hadn't been her…

"Georg, lucky I saw you through the window…" Elsa rolled her eyes at him.

"Sorry, darling…" he apologised sheepishly, trying to hide the fact that he was seriously out of breath.

"Had you forgotten where you'd left me?"

"One of these damn boutiques looks like every other…" Ushering Elsa through the doorway of Frau Koenig's, he told himself he must have been mistaken about the guitar case and worn carpetbag. A small group of dressmakers and seamstresses stood in a semi-circle, looking at him expectantly.

Giving them all a smile, he prayed it had been his imagination playing tricks again. If it wasn't, he couldn't face the glaring reality. The fingers on his left hand flickered to life – twitching, then straightening, then balling into a tight fist.

If Maria's left the Abbey, how would he ever find her…

oOo

"Max!"

"What…?" Max jumped, dropping his feet from where they'd been resting on one of the chairs. How long had he been asleep? He glanced around. "I nearly spilt my drink…" he frowned, lifting the glass from where it had been resting on his stomach. "I didn't expect you home so soon," he added petulantly.

"It's nearly five, Max," frowning, Georg folded his arms and turned to watch Elsa step gracefully through the doorway to join them.

"Oh…" Max took a mouthful of warm, sickly-sweet lemonade and placed the glass on the table. Taking out the pocket watch from his waistcoat, he flipped open its cover. Good God, Georg was right – quarter to five. "Nice time in town…?"

"We had a lovely afternoon, thank you for asking, Max," Elsa smiled. "How was your afternoon?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes, where are the children?" Georg asked, pulling out a chair from the table for Elsa. He stepped over to the balustrade and rested his fingertips on its ledge, searching in the distance to the left and then the right. Nothing… he couldn't even hear them. Turning around, he leaned back against the balustrade, arms folded again.

"The children…?" Max mumbled, straightening his tie.

"Yes, the children, Max," Georg frowned. "Remember… you were supposed to be looking after them."

"Well, I'm sure they're not too far away," Max sat up straighter in his chair and smoothed out the lapels of his jacket. Truth be told, he hadn't seen the children for hours, so had no idea where they might be. But he couldn't tell Georg that. "Aren't they inside?"

"I've checked upstairs," Georg answered bluntly.

"They can't be too far away," Max dismissed Georg's concerned look. "They headed out for a bike ride after lunch…"

"After lunch…?" Georg snapped. "You haven't seen them since lunch?"

"They said something about picking berries…" reaching for his glass, Max took another sip, then wished he hadn't. He needed something stronger…

"Berry picking…?" Georg's frown deepened.

"Honestly, Georg, I don't know why you're carrying on so much," Max shook his head. "What possible trouble could they get into picking berries?"

"Well, if they did get into trouble how would we know?" Georg unfolded his arms and turned around to scan the distant horizons again.

"Oh, Ge-org…" Elsa soothed. She had to admit, it was rather nice being out on the terrace with just the adults and none of the usual noise. "I'm sure they'll be fine."

"I hope so…" Georg mumbled under his breath, annoyed that he seemed to be the only one showing any concern.

Sharing a look with Max, Elsa rolled her eyes behind Georg's back. "Now, what does a woman need to do to get a drink around here…?"

But Georg wasn't paying any attention. He was too worried about the children. Narrowing his eyes across the lake he wished Elsa and Max would stop talking. How was he supposed to hear the children while they chatted on about God knows what? It wasn't like them to take off for the entire afternoon. But then, they usually weren't alone. Maria was always leading them on their adventures.

Maria…

He sighed. Where was she now? His fingers drummed impatiently on the balustrade. Why had she been leaving the Abbey? Perhaps she realised it wasn't for her. But why hadn't she tried to contact them? Free from their rules and restrictions, there shouldn't have been any excuse. Had she even returned? It probably wasn't her…

"…Sir?"

Spinning around, he found Franz staring at him with his signature blank look.

"A telephone call for you, sir," the butler answered the Captain's questioning look with his usual detachment.

"Take a message," Georg turned back to crane his neck in the direction of the stables where they stowed the children's bicycles.

"It's Herr von Anders," Franz was unusually persistent. "It's about the children, sir."

Georg's head spun around. "The children…" he whispered. Pushing past Franz, he strode across the terrace and through the doors. Why was the elderly neighbour calling about the children? Max better hope they were safe. If something had happened to them, he'd never forgive him. Imagine letting the children take off for the afternoon without having a clue where they were, much less what they were doing.

Berry picking…? He snorted at the idea as he strode across the grand foyer.

Reaching the sitting room, he made a beeline for the telephone in the corner of the room. He snatched up the receiver resting on the side table. "Rudolf?" he demanded, trying to hide his shortness of breath, partly from rushing, but mostly from the panic tightening his chest and now constricting his throat.

"Georg…? Is that you?"

"Yes, it is, Rudolf," Georg answered, his chest so tight, he could barely breathe. "Franz said you had news about the children…" The fingers on his left flexed beside his leg.

"There's no need to panic, Hilde just thought I should call…"

"They're alright, I hope…" Georg cut off what was threatening to become a long, unnecessary explanation about something irrelevant.

"Oh, yes… they're fine," Rudolf chuckled. "But I thought I should call before you send out a search party. We were on our way home from town and found them on the side of the road not far from Petling…"

"Petling…?" Georg frowned. "What were they doing there?"

"They'd been in town…"

"Town…?" Georg's frown deepened. What the Hell were they doing in town?

"On a bit of a jaunt, I suppose," Rudolf chuckled again. "They assumed the bus they caught from town would drop them back at Petling where they caught it earlier in the afternoon, but it's only the late bus that goes that far."

"Why would they have caught that bus?" Georg wondered out loud.

"Apparently, they'd cycled across from your place," Rudolf explained. "Who knows what game they were playing…"

"Well, thank you for letting me know," Georg was mortified his children had been roaming around the countryside. "I do apologise for putting you out."

"It was no trouble, at all," Rudolf brushed aside Georg's thanks. "Hilde adores children, and yours are particularly charming…"

Charming…? Surely, the old man had his children confused with someone else's.

"Tell the children," Georg took a deep breath, biting back his growing anger. "I'll be there to fetch them shortly…"

"Oh, no, Georg, they're not here," Rudolf cut off Georg. "We brought them home with us… Hilde insisted we feed and water them…" he paused to chuckle again. "But the children begged me to take them back where they'd left their bicycles…"

"Oh…?" What in God's name had his children been up to?

"I dropped them off about half an hour ago," Rudolf continued. "So, they shouldn't be too far away…"

"Thank you again for letting me know, Rudolf."

"It's no bother at all, Georg," Rudolf brushed aside the thanks again. "Hilde would have loved if they'd stayed for dinner, but they did insist on getting home before they were missed."

"Be sure to thank Hilde for me, will you?" Georg's fingers were flexing again.

"It was our pleasure," Rudolf answered. "Good evening, Georg."

After a moment's pause, the click of the neighbour hanging up the telephone was followed by a buzzing on the line. It took a while for him to move, but he slowly replaced the receiver. Staring at the telephone, deep in thought, he tried to make sense of the call.

What had his children been doing in town?

He could only think of one thing that could have taken them to town. He could hardly be angry with them, could he? After all, he'd done exactly the same thing these past days.

"Maria…" calling out to her, he whispered her name so softly, it was barely audible, even to him.

But she wasn't at the Abbey. His finger began to twitch. How did they find her? His fingers curled into a tight fist.

Had that been her on the street? Perhaps it had just been his mind playing tricks.

Realising he was standing in the corner of the sitting room like some kind of fool, he turned and forced his feet to start moving. Striding out into the foyer, he hesitated. He should go and join Elsa and Max on the terrace, but his heart wasn't in it.

He turned and stared at the front door. The children shouldn't be too far away. Perhaps he should go and meet them on the road…

oOo

"Peddle faster, slow coach…" Louisa called out behind her.

"I'm peddling as fast as I can!" Kurt called back, puffing hard.

"Father's going to kill us when we get home," Friedrich muttered under his breath.

"We should have thought of that earlier…" Louisa answered back.

"If only they'd let us see Fraulein Maria," Liesl called out, still not sure why the nuns hadn't even let them say hello.

"Is Father going to be mad?" Gretl asked.

"He wouldn't be if Fraulein Maria came home with us," Brigitta declared.

"She might have even convinced him not to marry Baroness Schraeder," Liesl puffed.

"I know…" Brigitta agreed, peddling furiously it was hard to talk between gulps of air. "Father didn't pay Baroness Schraeder any attention when Fraulein Maria was around."

"Didn't it drive the Baroness mad?!" Louisa laughed.

"Do you think Fraulein Maria knows we went to see her?" Marta asked.

"I hope so…" Liesl answered. "I really hope so…" It might help Fraulein Maria realise how badly they missed her, how much they loved her…

oOo

"Well, you seem pleased with yourself…"

"And why wouldn't I be?" Elsa smiled across the top of the gin and tonic Franz had fetched for her.

"No reason…" Max laughed.

"We had a nice lunch in a quiet little café…" perhaps a little too quiet for her liking, "and then had a lovely afternoon shopping…"

"Shopping for a diamond ring?" Max asked.

"Oh, Max!" Elsa gushed. "We didn't have time for the jewellers." Was it so obvious to Max? She had secretly hoped Georg had planned to surprise her, that his meeting with the solicitor was just an excuse to spend the afternoon together. "I met a clever dressmaker, who's making me a lovely summer dress for a little garden party."

"Oh, I'm sure Georg had fun doing that!" Max snorted.

"It's all about the right company, Max," Elsa pouted.

"Well, let's have a toast then," Max raised his half empty glass across the table. "Here's to keeping the right company!"

"The right company…" Elsa smiled.

oOo

Carefully picking her way down the steps, she found herself on the grassy verge of the gravel road. Feeling a little dazed, and not quite sure how the world had conspired to send her here, she turned around and forced another smile at the driver. Too distracted, she didn't notice the concerned look that accompanied his friendly nod. Her mind was already a mile and a half up the laneway that ran off the main road, only a few yards from where she was standing.

Minutes after it had disappeared in a puff of dust, she was still staring where the bus had been. A little disoriented, she turned slowly and walked to the small bench. Dropping down on its weathered timber planks, she took a few deep breaths, fighting against the fear that had settled on her chest. She told herself she wasn't going to shed any tears. Not here, not now. Blinking a few times, scratchy eyes reminded her, she probably had none left anyway.

Looking blankly up and down the road, it struck her that she was truly alone. What happened now, was entirely up to her. With God's help, of course. Not feeling any braver, she took one more deep breath and hoped for the best. Pushing herself up from the bench, she slowly walked the few yards down the road and turned into the lane.

Like the road, it was also gravel, but narrower and a little more unkempt along the edges. Birdsong from the tops of the elms that lined the lane provided a stark contrast to the crunch of her heavy steps. With little puffs of dust accompanying each step, the intermittent shade from the ancient trees was a welcome relief from the sun's heat.

She'd barely walked ten yards down the lane, when she noticed a figure in the distance walking towards her. Stopping, she dropped her bag and lifted a hand to shade her eyes against the sun. Squinting, she tried to make out who it was in the shimmering mirage. Had someone come to meet her? She scoffed at that idea. She was the last person they'd be expecting…

Slowly closing the distance between her and the mysterious figure, she hadn't even realised she was humming. But why would she? The tune was so stilted and uncertain, it was barely recognisable...

All I trust I give my heart to,

All I trust becomes my own,

I have confidence in confidence alone,

Besides what you see,

I have confidence in me…

oOo

Thankyou everyone for continuing to read and follow my story.

Apologies for the delay in updating – life got in the way!

I don't own TSOM, just having a lend.

"Immerse your soul in love"