Free The Journey by Josephine Cox Page A

we can take it in turns to check in on her. Look—there are two big sofas and a deep armchair. We can all snatch a moment’s sleep when we grow tired.”
    She smiled from one to the other. “Meanwhile, we’ll drink our tea and talk.” She paused. “The time will soon pass.”
    While Ben and Mary sipped their tea and chatted about things other than the one which pressed on their minds, Arthur became increasingly agitated. By referring to Lucy’s nightmares, he had almost betrayed his long-held loyalty to her. “Mary must never know … promise me you won’t ever tell.” That had been Lucy’s request to him, and though he had done everything possible for the woman he cherished, he had managed to avoid making an actual promise not to tell.
    Somewhere deep in his soul, he truly believed that one day, Mary would have to know the truth of what had happened; not least because she herself was part of that fascinating, devastating story, for without it, she would never have been born.
    Discreetly watching him, Mary saw how Arthur was pacing the floor, faster and faster, until it seemed he would go crazy. She saw the panic in his face and the way he was rolling his fists together, much like her own mother did when anxious. And she knew, without a shadow of doubt, that old secrets were tearing Arthur and her mother apart.
    While she watched him, Ben was watching her. And just as she had seen the anguish and pain in Arthur’s eyes, he saw the very same in hers. Without a word he took her hand in his and, when she swung her gaze to him, he stroked her face, fleetingly. “Your mother will be fine,” he whispered. “You have to believe that.”
    Mary acknowledged him with an unsure nod of the head. She wanted him to hold her, and kiss her, and be the safe haven she craved; for in that moment she had never felt so alone in the whole of her life.
    Suddenly, Arthur was standing before them. “I thought I heard a noise—I’m sure it came from upstairs. Please, lass … will you check on your mother again? See if she’s all right?”
    Mary didn’t need asking twice. She was on her feet and out of the room before he’d finished speaking. While she was running up the stairs, Ben grew concerned for Arthur. Taking the little man by the shoulders, he sat him in the armchair. “Here, sit down … before you fall down.” And when Arthur was seated, head low in his hands and his whole body trembling, Ben dashed off to the kitchen and brought him back a glass of water. “Drink this … it’ll help calm you.”
    By the time Arthur had swilled down every last drop of the cool water, Mary had returned. “Mother is fast asleep,” she told them. “She hasn’t moved, except to pull down the covers a little.” Lucy never did like being too warm, even in her sleep.
    Arthur grabbed her hand. “Are you sure she’s all right?”
    “Yes, I’m sure.” Mary squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Like the doctor said … she’s sleeping soundly.”
    And then Arthur was weeping, quietly at first, until the sobs racked his body, and when he looked up at them he was like a man haunted. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to your mam,” he said brokenly. “I love her, d’you see? I have loved her for a long, long time … and always will till the day I die, and even after that.”
    Mary sat on the edge of the sofa, opposite Arthur and next to Ben, but she did not let go of Arthur’s hand.
    “Do you think I don’t know how much you love her?” she asked tenderly. “I’ve known it since I was very small. I’ve seen the way you look at her, and I’ve heard you whisper her name … talking to her when you thought she couldn’t hear. But I heard, and I know how much you adore her.”
    She had a question. “Why did she not love you back in the same way?”
    Arthur was curiously hurt by her question, though he understood it well enough. “She did love me … she still does! ”
    “Yes, I know that, but why did she not love