Kate Morton - The Distant Hours

‘Well, come on inside,’ said Percy, reviving her smile. ‘There’s no need for us to stand out in the weather.’

‘Yes!’ Saffy matched her twin’s cheer. ‘You poor dear; you’ll catch a chill if we’re not careful – Percy, go downstairs, will you, and fetch a hot water bottle?’

As Percy disappeared along the darkened hall towards the kitchen, Juniper turned to Saffy, took her wrist and said, ‘Tom?’

‘Not yet.’

Her face fell. ‘But it’s late. I’m late.’

‘I know, darling.’

‘What could be keeping him?’

‘The war, darling; the war’s to blame. Come and sit by the fire. I’ll fix you a lovely drink and he’ll be right along, you’ll see.’

They reached the good parlour and Saffy allowed herself a moment’s pleasure at the pretty scene before leading Juniper to the rug by the hearth. She gave the largest log a prod as her sister produced a case of cigarettes from her coat pocket.

The fire sparked and Saffy flinched. She straightened, leaned the poker back where it belonged and dusted her hands, even though there was nothing on them to clean. Juniper struck a match, drew hard. ‘Your hair,’ said Saffy softly.

‘I had it cut.’ Anyone else’s hand might have gone to their neck, but not Juniper’s.

‘Well, I like it.’

They smiled at one another, Juniper a little skittishly, it seemed to Saffy. Though, of course, that made no sense; Juniper did not get nervous. Saffy pretended not to watch as her sister wrapped an arm across her middle and continued to smoke.

London , Saffy wanted to say. You’ve been to London! Tell me about it; paint me pictures with words so that I might see and know everything that you do. Did you dance? Did you sit by the Serpentine? Did you fall in love? The questions lined up, one behind the other, begging to be spoken, and yet she said nothing. She stood instead like a ninny, as the fire warmed her face and the minutes ticked by. It was ridiculous, she knew; Percy would be back at any moment and the opportunity to speak alone with Juniper would be gone. She ought just to leap in, to demand outright: Tell me about him, darling; tell me about Tom, about your plans . This was Juniper, after all, her own, her dearest little sister. There was nothing they couldn’t talk about. And yet. Saffy thought of the journal entry and her cheeks warmed. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘How remiss of me! Let me take your coat.’

She took up position behind her sister like a housemaid might, unthreaded first one arm, then, when Juniper shifted her cigarette, the other; slipped the brown coat from the thin shoulders and took it to the chair beneath the Constable. It wasn’t ideal to let it drip all over the floor, but there wasn’t time to do otherwise. She fussed a bit, straightening the fabric, noting the needlework of the hem, as she wondered at her own reticence. Chastised herself for letting ordinary familial enquiries stale on her tongue, as if the young woman standing by the fire were a stranger. It was Juniper, for God’s sake; home at last, and likely with a rather important secret up her sleeve.

‘Your letter,’ Saffy prompted, smoothing out the coat’s collar; wondering vaguely, in the random fleeting manner of thought, where her sister had acquired such an item. ‘Your most recent letter.’

‘Yes?’

Juniper had crouched before the fire as she’d liked to as a child and didn’t even turn her head. Saffy realized with a thud that her sister was not going make it easy. She hesitated, steeled herself, then the slam of a distant door reminded her that time was of the essence. ‘Please, Juniper,’ she said, hurrying to stand closer. ‘Tell me about Tom; tell me everything, darling.’

‘About Tom?’

‘Only that, I couldn’t help but wonder whether there was something between you – something more serious than you suggested in your letter.’

A pause, silence, as the walls strained to hear.

Then came a small noise from Juniper’s throat, a breath. ‘I wanted to wait,’ she said softly. ‘We decided to wait till we were together.’

‘Wait?’ Saffy’s heart was flickering like a captured bird’s. ‘I’m not sure what you mean, darling?’

‘Tom and I.’ Juniper dragged hard on her cigarette then leaned her cheek against the heel of her hand. On an exhalation: ‘Tom and I are going to be married. He’s asked me and I’ve said yes, and oh, Saffy – ’ for the first time she looked behind to meet her sister’s gaze – ‘I love him. I can’t be without him. I won’t.’

Though the news itself was just as she’d supposed, Saffy was bruised by the force of the confession. The speed of its delivery, its potency, its repercussions. ‘Well,’ she said, heading to the drinks table, remembering to smile. ‘How wonderful, dearest; then tonight is a celebration.’

‘You won’t tell Percy, will you? Not until-’

‘No. No, of course not.’ Saffy eased the stopper from the whisky.

‘I don’t know how she’ll… Will you help me? Help me make her see?’

‘You know I will.’ Saffy concentrated on the drinks that she was pouring. It was true. She would do whatever she could, there was nothing she wouldn’t do for Juniper. But Percy was never going to see. Daddy’s will was clear: if Juniper were to marry, the castle would be lost. Percy’s love, her life, her very reason…

Juniper was frowning at the fire. ‘She’ll come round, won’t she?’

‘Yes,’ Saffy lied, then drained her glass. Topped it up again.

‘I know what it means, I do know that, and I regret it absolutely; I wish that Daddy had never done what he did. I never wanted any of this.’ Juniper gestured at the stone walls. ‘But my heart, Saffy. My heart.’

Saffy held out a glass to Juniper. ‘Here darling, have a – ’ Her other hand clapped against her mouth as her sister stood and turned to take it.

‘What is it?’

She couldn’t speak.

‘Saffy?’

‘Your blouse,’ she managed, ‘it’s – ’

‘It’s new.’

Saffy nodded. It was a trick of the light, nothing more. She took her sister by the hand and pulled her swiftly towards the lamp.

Then buckled.

It was unmistakable. Blood. Saffy urged herself not to panic; told herself there was nothing to fear, not yet, that they had to remain calm. She searched for suitable words to say as much, but before she found them Juniper had followed her gaze.

She pulled at the fabric of her shirt, frowned an instant, then she screamed. Brushed frantically at her blouse. Stepped back as if the horror might that way be escaped.

‘Shh,’ said Saffy, flapping her hand. ‘There now, dearest. Don’t be frightened.’ She could taste her own panic, though, her shadow companion. ‘Let me take a look at you. Let Saffy take a look.’

Juniper stood inert and Saffy undid the buttons, fingers shaking. She opened the blouse, ran her fingertips over her sister’s smooth skin – shades of tending Juniper as a child – scanning her chest, her sides, her stomach for wounds. Breathed a great sigh of relief when none was found. ‘You’re all right.’

‘But whose?’ said Juniper. ‘Whose?’ She was shivering. ‘Where did it come from, Saffy?’

‘You don’t remember?’

Juniper shook her head.

‘Nothing at all?’

Juniper’s teeth were chattering; she shook her head again.

Saffy spoke calmly, softly, as if to a child. ‘Dearest, do you think you might have lost some time?’

Fear lit Juniper’s eyes.

‘Is your head aching? Your fingers – are they tingling?’

Juniper nodded slowly.

‘All right.’ Saffy smiled as best she could; helped Juniper out of the spoiled blouse then draped her arm around her sister’s shoulders, almost wept with fear and love and anguish when she felt the narrow bones beneath her arm. They should have gone to London, Percy should have gone and brought June back. ‘It’s all right,’ she said firmly, ‘you’re home now. Everything’s going to be all right.’