The Foreshadowing Read Online Free PDF Page B

waving a hand.
    He jumped and turned at his door in the dark hallway. I heard him breathing, softly.
    “Oh, Alexandra,” he said, looking up the stairs. “It’s you. Go back to bed.”
    His voice was flat, and his eyes wouldn’t fix on me.
    “I’ll see you in the morning,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, but his door was already shut.
    I lay awake, listening to the noises of the house. Boards creaking and the November wind rustling the empty branches of the magnolia beneath my window, brushing fallen leaves along the high pavement of Clifton Terrace. I could sense my parents and Edgar asleep in their rooms, lost in their own dreams, and though Thomas was missing, it felt almost normal.

84

    I didn’t see Edgar this morning. I woke with my head full of dark clouds, struggling to rouse myself. I think it was quite early when I finally dropped off. By the time I got downstairs Edgar had gone out.
    “I hardly saw him myself,” Mother said.
    “Where’s he gone?” I asked.
    “He’s gone for a walk,” she said, as if it were a crime.
    “He probably just wants to have a look at the town, you know. To make himself feel at home again.”
    “On a day like this?” Mother looked out the window at rain slanting across the houses and the sea in great gray swathes.
    Lunchtime came and went. It’s Sunday, and Mother asked Cook to make a proper Sunday lunch. We’ve had to skimp recently on those kind of things, and today she wanted it done properly, but Edgar still hadn’t returned.
    Father, Mother and I ate lunch without him, in the end, though much of it was cold.
    “That was lovely,” Father said, without smiling. “Thank you, dear.”
    It was suppertime before Edgar came back.
    Not a word was said about where he’d been, or that he’d missed lunch. We all pretended nothing had happened, and sat down for some bread, cheese and cold meat. Father opened a bottle of beer for Edgar and one for himself. I watched as the beautiful dark brown liquid frothed into the glasses, making such a lovely, comforting sound. The clock on the wall ticked, very slowly.
    “So,” said Father, “tell us what you’ve been up to.”
    Edgar was staring at his plate, and methodically pushing food into his mouth. It was clear to me he didn’t want to talk about anything.
    But Father was quite unaware.
    “What’s been happening in your section? Much action? I expect you’ve shown the enemy a thing or two.”
    “There’s not much to tell,” Edgar said, and took another slice of bread. “We’re doing our bit, you know.”
    “But you must have seen a sight or two,” Father went on. “Tell us something.”
    “Yes,” Edgar said, “we’ve seen a sight or two. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I ought to go to bed.”
    He got up. Father frowned.
    “But—”
    “Henry,” Mother cut in, “he’s tired. Let him sleep.”
    I was surprised at Mother’s boldness, but Father just sighed and went off to the drawing room to read by the fire.
    I stayed with Mother while Molly flapped around us, clearing away. When it was done we sat together for a while.
    “Why?” I asked Mother, quietly.
    “Why what, Sasha?”
    I could hear the sick weariness in her voice, but I couldn’t stop myself.
    “Why won’t you believe me? Why won’t anyone believe me?”
    I wished I hadn’t said it.
    Mother came round the table and put her arms around me.
    “Please don’t, Sasha,” she said. “Please stop saying it. Please.”
    She put her face in my hair and began to shake and then I realized she was crying.
    I stood up and held her.
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to upset you.”
    She said nothing for a while, but then stood back from me, wiping her eyes.
    She was about to speak when we were interrupted.
    “Will there be anything else tonight, ma’am?” Molly asked from the doorway.
    Mother shook her head.
    “No, thank you, Molly. Alexandra is just going to bed. We shall follow shortly.”
    I tried to hold