Free The Man Who Built the World by Chris Ward Page A

two tiny shoulders. ‘Oh, my babies . . .’ she murmured, fighting back the tears.
    ‘Where are we going, Mummy?’ Luke asked.
    She drew back to look at them. Sarah wore a frown and Luke’s eyes looked watery, as though he might cry at any moment. She touched one hand to each of their faces.
    ‘We’re just going to stay with Grandma for a few days,’ she said softly, trying to convince but, she thought, failing.
    ‘Why?’ Luke asked, and Sarah nodded her agreement.
    ‘Just for a little holiday,’ Rachel said. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be home again soon.’ Please, please, let us come home again soon .
    ‘Where’s Daddy?’ Sarah asked.
    ‘He’s not coming, is he?’
    ‘Daddy’s . . . gone away for a little while,’ Rachel said, aware of the tears forming in her eyes, the cracks in her voice.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Luke . . .’ Rachel tried to answer, but words failed her. Her vision had blurred, and to hide her tears she hugged the children tightly again, only too aware of the sobs that shook her body.
    ‘I want Daddy to come back,’ Luke said, his own little voice start ing to tremble.
    She swallowed down her sobs, forced herself to draw back again, look at the children. Luke looked away, ashamed of the tears that rolled down his cheeks. Little Sarah just watched her mother, mouth puckered and wearing a frown so deep Rachel thought it might soon cover her eyes.
    ‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ she said, forcing conviction into the words, forcing them to mean something. ‘I promise you. Everything will be fine.’
    Sarah just smiled weakly, nodding. ‘Okay, Mummy.’
    Luke looked back at her, his eyes so intent it seemed he had forgotten about the residue of tears that dampened his cheeks. He lifted one small gloved hand towards his mother’s face. Rachel froze, breath catching in her throat as his woolly fingers touched the spot on her cheek where until yesterday a bruise had been.
    Then, as though breaking out of a trance, Luke snapped his hand away and dropped his eyes towards the floor. ‘Love you, Mummy,’ he muttered to his shoes.
    Rachel rubbed his head tenderly and stood up. ‘Come on, best get going,’ she said. ‘Grandma’s cooking us a nice roast.’
    ‘Yum,’ Sarah said, taking hold of her mother’s free hand. ‘I like roast.’
    Rachel looked down at them one last time before she went to open the door. She choked back tears. If she started to cry again now she thought she might cry forever.

 
     
     
    ###
     
    Bethany’s Diary, January 1st, 1985
     
    It’s New Years Day today, diary. It’s snowing real hard outside, almost came up to my knees last night so I didn’t go far into the woods, only a little way down the path. Haven’t seen Mummy since before Christmas anyway, so perhaps it’s too cold for her too.
    She never did come back. Daddy was there, Matty was there, and Uncle Red was there, but Mummy stayed out in the cold. I didn’t even see her. I thought she might have sneaked over for a look at the tree, but if she did, I never saw her.
    We had cookies tonight. Daddy made them, and Uncle Red brought them up to my room, some chocolate ones and some cherry ones. Uncle Red stayed to talk to me a while, sitting on the edge of the bed. He talked about Mummy, about how I must miss her so. I couldn’t think of anything to say and eventually he got tired of talking to me and went away. At least Uncle Red likes me more than Matty does. Matty won’t even speak to me.
    I like Uncle Red. I’m not sure if he’s actually my uncle, but he seems nice just the same.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    14
     
    He slumped against the back of the corner bench, trying to stay upright as the world r evolved around him in thousands of interlinked circles. Oh God, why now?
    He hadn’t meant to, had only wanted a couple for his nerves. Just to steady himself before going to the church for the funeral service. Hell, he had only had a couple of hours to kill, but although he had still felt