Kate Morton - The Distant Hours

Juniper said nothing; her face had glazed over.

Saffy glanced at the door; Percy would know what to do. Percy always knew what to do. ‘Shh,’ she said, ‘shh,’ but more for herself than for Juniper, who was no longer listening.

They sat together on the end of the chaise longue and waited. Fire cackled in the grate, wind scurried along the stones, and rain lashed the windows. It felt as if a hundred years had passed. Then Percy appeared at the door. She’d been running and held the hot-water bottle in her hand. ‘I thought I heard a scream – ’ She stopped; registered Juniper’s state of undress. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

Saffy gestured towards the bloodstained blouse and said, with ghastly cheer, ‘Come and help me, Perce. Juniper’s travelled all day and I thought we might draw her a lovely warm bath.’

Percy nodded grimly and, one on either side, they helped their little sister towards the door.

The room settled around their absence; the stones began to whisper.

The loose shutter fell off its hinge, but nobody saw it slip.

‘Is she sleeping?’

‘Yes.’

Percy exhaled relief and stepped further into the attic room to observe their little sister where she lay. She stopped beside Saffy’s chair. ‘Did she tell you anything?’

‘Not a lot. She remembered being on the train and then the bus, that it stopped and she was crouched down on the roadside; next thing she knew she was on her way up the drive, almost at the door, her limbs all tingly. The way they get – you know, afterwards.’

Percy knew. She reached to run the backs of two fingers down Juniper’s hairline towards her cheek. Their little sister looked so small, so helpless and harmless, when she was sleeping.

‘Don’t wake her.’

‘Not much chance of that.’ Percy indicated the bottle of Daddy’s pills beside the bed.

‘You’ve changed your clothes,’ said Saffy, tugging lightly on Percy’s trouser leg.

‘Yes.’

‘You’re going out.’

Percy nodded shortly. If Juniper had left the bus but still found her way home, it meant, presumably, that whatever it was that had caused her to lose time, that was responsible for the blood on her clothing, had happened close to home. Which meant that Percy had to check immediately; take the torch, walk down the drive and see what she could find. She refused to speculate as to what that might be; knew only that it was her duty to remove it. In truth, she was grateful for the task. A solid purpose with a clear objective would help keep the fears at bay, stop her imagination from running ahead unchecked. The situation was troubling enough without that. She looked down at Saffy’s head, the pretty curls, and frowned. ‘Promise me you’ll do something while I’m gone,’ she said, ‘something other than sitting here, worrying.’

‘But Perce-’

‘I mean it, Saffy. She’ll be out for hours. Go downstairs; do some writing. Keep your mind busy. We don’t need a panic.’

Saffy reached up to knit fingers with Percy. ‘And you look out for Mr Potts. Keep your torchlight low. You know what he’s like about the blackout.’

‘I will.’

‘Germans too, Perce. Be careful.’

Percy took her hand back for herself; softened the fact by driving both inside her pockets and answering wryly, ‘On a night like this? Any brains and they’re all at home tucked up warm in bed.’

Saffy attempted a smile, but couldn’t quite complete it. And who could blame her? The room was hanging with old ghosts. Percy stymied a shiver and headed for the door, saying, ‘Right, well I’ll-’

‘Do you remember when we slept up here, Perce?’

Percy paused; felt for the cigarette she’d rolled earlier. ‘Distantly.’

‘It was nice, wasn’t it? The two of us.’

‘As I remember it, you couldn’t wait to get downstairs.’

Saffy did smile then, but it was full of sadness. She avoided Percy’s gaze; kept her eyes on Juniper. ‘I was always in a hurry. To grow up. To get away.’

Percy’s chest ached. She steeled herself against the pull of sentiment. She didn’t want to remember the girl her twin had been, back before Daddy broke her, when she’d had talent and dreams and every chance of fulfilling them. Not now. Not ever, if she could help it. It hurt too much.

In her trouser pocket were the scraps of paper she’d found quite by chance in the kitchen while preparing the hot-water bottle. She’d been hunting for matches, had lifted a saucepan lid on the bench, and there they’d been: the torn pieces of Emily’s letter. Thank God she’d found them. The last thing they needed was to lose Saffy to old despair. Percy would take them downstairs now, burn them on her way outside. ‘I’m going now, Saff-’

‘I think Juniper will leave us.’

‘What?’

‘I think she plans to fly away.’

What would make her twin say such a thing? And why now? Why tonight? Percy’s pulse began to race. ‘You asked her about him?’

Saffy’s hesitation was long enough for Percy to know that she had.

‘She intends to marry?’

‘She says she’s in love.’ Saffy spoke on a sigh.

‘But she’s not.’

‘She believes that she is, Perce.’

‘You’re wrong.’ Percy set her chin. ‘She wouldn’t marry. She won’t. She knows what Daddy did, what it would mean.’

Saffy smiled sadly. ‘Love makes people do cruel things.’

Percy’s matchbox slipped from her fingers and she reached to collect it from the floor. When she straightened, she saw that Saffy was watching her with an odd expression on her face, almost as if she were trying to communicate a complex idea, or find the solution to a plaguing puzzle. ‘Is he coming, Percy?’

Percy lit her cigarette and started down the stairs. ‘Really, Saffy,’ she said. ‘How am I supposed to know?’

The possibility had crept up on Saffy softly. Her twin’s glowering mood all evening had been unfortunate but not without precedent, thus she’d given it little thought other than to attempt its management so the dinner event wouldn’t be spoiled. But then there’d been the lengthy disappearance down to the kitchen, ostensibly to obtain aspirin, the return with a marked dress and a story about noises outside. The blank expression when Saffy asked her whether she’d found the aspirin, as if she’d quite forgotten having needed it in the first place… Now, Percy’s determination, her insistence almost, that Juniper would not be marrying -

But no.

Stop.

Percy could be hard, she could even be unkind, but she wasn’t capable of that. Saffy would never believe such a thing. Her twin loved the castle with a passion, but never at the expense of her own humanity. Percy was brave and decent and honourable; she climbed into bomb craters to save lives. Besides, it wasn’t Percy who’d been covered in someone else’s blood…

Saffy trembled; stood suddenly. Percy was right: there was little to be gained by keeping silent vigil while Juniper slept. It had taken three of Daddy’s pills to calm her into slumber, poor lamb, and there was little chance she’d surface now for hours.

To leave her as she lay like this, small and vulnerable, went against every maternal instinct Saffy had, and yet. To remain, she knew, was to invite descent into abject panic. Already her mind was addled by ugly possibilities: Juniper didn’t lose time unless she’d suffered trauma of some sort, unless she’d seen or done something to excite her senses, something to set her heart racing faster than it should. Combined with the blood on her blouse, the general air of unease that had followed her into the house -

No .

Stop .

Saffy pressed the heels of her hands hard against her chest. Tried to ease the knot that fear was tying there. Now was not the time to succumb to one of her panics. She had to stay calm. So much was still unknown, yet one thing was certain. She would be of little use to Juniper if she couldn’t keep her own jagged fears in check.