CHAPTER 13

The evening had been more subdued than the usual get togethers they held when the Grant family was in town.

"Thank goodness for the children", Rosemary had whispered to Cecilia as they watched the little ones dancing about in the centre of the room, their giggles and squeals of delight as one after another they were tagged bringing smiles to the faces of people who were feeling anything but joyful right now.

Colleen and Victoria were frustrating the boys as they darted backwards and forwards around them, small enough to duck under outstretched arms and unwittingly working as a team just far enough out of reach to be caught.

"Those two are going to be trouble when they get older", Cecilia had laughed, "even more than they are now. Perhaps it is just as well that we don't live close enough for them to spend too much time together!"

She saw a brief shadow pass over Rosemary's face and realised that perhaps her words had come out the wrong way.

"You know how much we love spending our summers here and intend to continue doing so, as long as we are welcome. The girls will grow up as friends, Rosemary, I am sure of that. It will be just like I was with my cousins even though we moved around a lot. And the boys are so wonderful with Billy, he worships them in the way they do Nathan. You have done a wonderful job with both of them as I know it wasn't easy at times. But you know that beneath all the joy of being here there has always been a fear in both Nathan and me that wouldn't go away. Just when I was beginning to think we had conquered it this happens and I feel as though we are back to square one again!"

Rosemary could hear the despair in Cecilia's voice, the genuine regret that they could not feel settled living in Hope Valley. So much had been sacrificed by them in the rescue of this town and it saddened her to know that this was the price they and Hope Valley had to pay.

She lifted the corners of her mouth into the biggest smile she could muster, "Look at us, will you, full of gloom. I can see our handsome husbands talking over there so perhaps we should join them. See if we can persuade them to dance as I think Fiona is about to set up the Victrola over in the corner."

Glancing across at her husband brought a smile to Cecilia's face and so she nodded in agreement, knowing that just the closeness of him was all she needed to feel better. As she neared him he looked up from his conversation with Lee, sensing her presence. His face immediately brightened, the blueness of his eyes shining so deeply with the look of love that always told her that he was her home.

At that moment Colleen came crashing into her legs, wrapping her arms around them as she squealed with a mixture of delight and fear at the boys who were chasing her. Beside them Victoria had launched herself at Rosemary, burying herself in the folds of her mother's skirt as she giggled with joy.

"I think we may have to forget about dancing and take these minxes home," Cecilia said to the others. "Their excitement level seems to be increasing and I just know that when they reach optimum it won't be long after that they come crashing down with a bang!"

She lifted her daughter into her arms, suddenly feeling a weariness that had been creeping up on her too often lately. Looking at Nathan she silently pleaded with him to agree with her. "I'm actually feeling quite tired too. Clearly the travelling and drama of the past few days is catching up with me."

Rallying herself she brightly added, "but nothing that a good night's sleep won't fix, I'm sure."

Nathan could see the dark circles under her eyes and feel a tenseness in her manner that hadn't been there earlier. Before he had told her of Faith's request. Had he done the right thing by asking her to sit in when he interviewed Sarah? Would it bring up some still hidden memories for his wife, things she still kept buried deep inside about her experiences as a journalist during the war?

And yet he knew that with each revelation, with each memory that was lifted from the deep recesses of her mind, she seemed to find relief and a lightening of spirit that was part of her healing process. And when the nightmares came, as they no doubt would, he would be there to hold her and love her until she drifted back into some form of sleep. And he would pray that when she woke in the morning another small piece of her past would have been cast aside.

It seemed that Cecilia was not the only one in danger of a restless and disturbed night for others were also confronting their own worries and fears as the quiet of a silent town descended upon them.

Florence Yost lay in fed unable to settle. Beside her Ned was snoring loudly but tonight she didn't care, her mind whirring with too many thoughts to really take much notice.

She had heard the whispered conversations and caught the sideways glances from customers in the shop when they thought she wasn't paying them any attention. For once she didn't know what to do. Should she talk to Ned about her fears? But Paul wasn't his son, although he treated him as though he was. Would this test the close bond the two men shared, stretch it to a point where nothing would ever be the same again? No, she couldn't risk that, couldn't face him giving up on Paul. Or, worse still, giving Paul up if what she dreaded proved to be the truth.

This was something she had to get to the bottom of by herself and once she knew what was happening she would decide what to do next. The answers she needed should be clear in the morning. She didn't need to set an alarm for she was always awake at that time anyway. That's how she knew. Besides, she had a feeling that sleep would elude her but if she found out the truth, no matter whether it was good or bad, then the long night would be worth it.

In her bed in the Weiss family row house Opal was also awake late, as she had been every night since the incident with Sarah.

Harper had resumed their normal routine in the following days, arriving each morning for coffee or breakfast before walking her to the salon. Outwardly everything seemed the same as before but she knew that wasn't the case. There was an uncertainty between them, an unspoken feeling that something was no longer quite what it appeared to be.

It was there in the vagueness of their conversations at times, the slightly forced laugh that never really reached the right balance for what was being said. Then there was the readiness she sensed in him when the moment came to part ways, almost as though he was relieved that their time together was over, that he was free from hiding his secret, for she was sure there was something he was not saying.

She had taken heed of Fiona's words and knew in her heart that this had nothing to do with Allie. So she had to ask herself what was going on and was there anything she could do about it. More importantly, had the young man she loved been honest with her about what had caused him to be late that particular morning? Not knowing was hard and yet she wasn't sure she wanted an answer if it was going to be something bad.

Should she confront him about it? Perhaps ask Mrs Coulter about the trouble they had printing the newspaper that morning? Was there a way she could find out if there really had been a problem with the printing press without him knowing? Or should she trust him to have been honest with her and let it go? But it was there at the back of her mind and she just couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on.

She turned over once more, wishing for sleep but knowing that it may be another night where her body begged for it but her mind could not switch off.

At the boarding house the West family had just finished eating the stew that Emily had left on the stove for them, later than normal because of their trip to Benson Hills. They had been invited to the potluck meal by Greg, who thought that perhaps it would give them the opportunity to find out more about the family and see how they acted with other people. John had thanked him for including them but then declined, saying that he wasn't sure they would be back in time and even if they were he thought that Martha would be too tired after a long day out.

Whilst the two men were conducting their business, mother and daughter had walked along Main Street, peering into the windows of the closed shops full of things they couldn't afford to buy. Finally they approached the church and as the sound of organ music reached their ears they were immediately drawn up the steps and through the large double doors. They slid into a pew at the back, glad that no-one seemed particularly interested in them. There was a sense of reassurance they both got from going unnoticed, a feeling that the world was happy to leave you alone, to go on its way without caring about you fitting in. Martha liked that, it made her feel safe and that was the one thing she needed above anything else. For herself. And for her family.

Now as she hung the towel she had used to dry the dishes on the side of the stove she felt the weariness that often overcame her when she had been faced with too many new things in a short period of time. She begged off the game of dominoes they had planned for the rest of the evening and having bade the others goodnight she made her way upstairs to their room.

She sensed it immediately she walked through the doorway, that feeling that someone had been in here, that things had been touched. This was more than just the regular cleaning done by the girls, it felt personal. Then she saw it, the photograph on the nightstand had been moved. Not by much, in fact she imagined it had just been picked up and placed back down again not quite on the same spot. Yet she felt violated in a small way, as though that slight change had invaded her personal world and risked bringing everything crashing down on her again.

Why, oh why, had she not put it away as usual. Every evening she would place it there before getting into bed and in the morning before breakfast she would lovingly hide it beneath her undergarments in the dresser drawer. But this morning in their haste to leave early and her indecisiveness on what to wear she had forgotten to put it away.

Her nighttime ablutions seemed to take longer than normal as she struggled to focus her mind on what she was doing. Finally she was in her nightgown and climbing into bed, the tears beginning to fall as she pulled the covers around herself, the photograph clutched tight to her chest. In moments like this she just wanted to close her eyes and will herself back to the days before it happened. To a time when they had been happy. A normal family living an ordinary life. But now they were always on the move, one eye looking ahead the other behind. Never settling, never staying, always searching, always waiting.

And now here she was again, seeing the same story play out once more and wishing there was some way she could put a stop to it. It was going to be a long night, she knew, but she was used to that by now.

For Lily Bercot this day had been no different to any other since they had arrived in Hope Valley. The monotony of it all had fallen into a pattern that was only changed each evening by the knowledge that when she woke in the morning she would be another day closer to leaving.

Earlier in the afternoon she had sat on the balcony as usual but being Sunday there was a stillness to the street below, the hustle and bustle of town life replaced by a gentler mood. Mind you, she thought, there hadn't been much life to the place for the past few days, ever since the incident with the girl. She had been tempted to ask Cat or Nancy for some information about what happened but thought better of it. Sometimes it was wiser not to know, to stay separate from such unpleasantness.

Phillipe would, of course, know all about it. He always did. Every time. If she was a stupid woman she would wonder why this sort of trouble always seemed to follow them. But she wasn't stupid, she simply chose not to know.

It had surprised her when her husband announced that he was going to church that morning but one look from her told him not to bother asking her to accompanying him. He knew better than to expect more than what they had agreed to. At least he was no longer going out so early now, instead sitting out on the balcony with his morning cup of tea and a copy of the local newspaper filling the time until breakfast was served.

She would watch him from the bed as he turned the pages, scouring every inch of column space as though searching for something. Or perhaps hoping that it wouldn't be there? Although they had never discussed it, she knew. But her silence was another part of their deal and she wasn't willing to risk that by caring.

Now as she slipped under the covers she felt fear for the first time. What if is all went wrong and they lost everything. She lost everything. Panic gripped her for a moment and she started to think. There were things she knew, secrets he thought were hidden, but she was smarter than he gave her credit for. It was in her background, what had gotten her to where she was now.

Keep your ears and eyes open, her mother had told her from a young age, for it is in the things the people don't realise they are saying or doing that true knowledge lies. At least for the likes of us.

She turned off the bedside light, knowing that it would be a while before Phillipe joined her. The glow from his cigar told her he was sitting outside in the dark and the clunk of the whiskey bottle on the edge of the glass meant he would be some time yet. Probably not until the last of the crowd gathered downstairs had gone home, which could be a while as the faint sound of music was still wafting up from below.

If sleep didn't come soon perhaps she would join him. Or better not. He was a man who needed to be alone when he felt like this and she was wise enough to let him be.