Shoulder the Sky Read Online Free PDF Page A

stretch of road that morning.
    The Peacemaker could only be someone who knew John Reavley personally, and also knew that his second son worked in London in the Intelligence Services, and would be the obvious person to whom to take the document.
    Who had contacted Sebastian Allard with information and instructions in the few hours of the afternoon or evening after Reisenburg had given John Reavley the document, and before he had set out the next day for London?
    Sebastian was dead, as was his brother, Elwyn. Their father, Gerald, was drowned deeper than ever in the brandy bottle, and their mother, Mary, was broken by the fury and shame of the scandal. She had changed her name and left Cambridgeshire, with its unbearable past, behind her. She had not adopted any family name, either on her parents' side, or Gerald's, but something totally unconnected. It had taken Matthew this long to find her where she worked as a voluntary aide in a military hospital outside Brighton.
    It was early afternoon when he parked in the gravel space outside the entrance and climbed out, grateful to stretch his legs after the two-hour drive. He went up the steps, enquired in the hallway if he could speak with Mrs. Allan, and was directed to one of the wards.
    On the way there he passed a young man, looking no more than twenty, sitting in a wheelchair. The way the rug fell over his lap made it apparent he had only one leg.
    Matthew did not want to look at it. He was twisted with pity, guilty for being able to stride out easily himself, and he was in a hurry. He was acutely aware that Joseph would have felt the same, and would have stopped. It often surprised him how much he missed Joseph now. Since he lived in London and Joseph had lived in Cambridge, he had not expected to.
    "Good afternoon," he said with a smile. "Am I heading the right way for Ward Three?"
    "Yes, sir," the man assured him with a sudden light in his face. He looked at Matthew's uniform but saw no regimental insignia on it. "Straight ahead."
    "Thanks," Matthew acknowledged, and went the rest of the way and through the door. He saw Mary as soon as he was inside. She was wearing a grey skirt and blouse with a white apron over it, rather than the fashionable unrelieved black silk of mourning that he had last seen her in, but she was still gaunt-faced, her body almost fleshless, shoulders high and thin, backbone like a ramrod. She took no notice of him, concentrating on her task of rolling bandages. She was probably used to people coming and going in the ward.
    "Good afternoon, Mrs. Allan," he said quietly, using her new name in order not to embarrass her. "Can you spare me a few minutes of your time?"
    She stopped, her hands motionless, the bandage in the air. Very slowly she turned, but he knew that she had already recognized his voice. Her angular features were pinched with fear and her dark eyes shadowed. She stared at him without speaking.
    "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Allan," he repeated her new name to let her know he had no intention of ripping away the mask she had so carefully constructed. There was such tragedy between them, wounds to which healing could not be imagined. Both his parents were dead at her son's hands, both her sons were guilty of murder and suicide, the scandal had destroyed everything she cared about and it was his brother who had exposed it. She had no dreams left and the emptiness was there as she looked at him.
    "I assume you have some reason, Captain Reavley," she replied without expression in her voice.
    "Maybe we could walk outside?" he suggested, glancing towards the door, which opened on to a terrace and then the lawn, where he could see at least half a dozen young men in chairs of one sort or another.
    "If it is necessary," she answered. She did not betray any interest in what he wanted, nor did she ask how any of his family were, although she must have known Joseph and Judith were both in Flanders, because it had been general knowledge in the area