The Last Train Home

Chapter Fifty-Four

I awoke the next morning blissfully unaware of what had transpired the previous day.

Sunlight streamed in through the curtains and a slight breeze crept in through my partially open window. At the end of my bed, Goose lay curled up in a small ball, snoring away and no doubt dreaming about chasing the chickens. She didn't stir as I shifted a little in bed, pushing the blanket off my legs and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I stretched, staring at the ceiling.

For a few seconds, I was content with the knowledge that the previous day had never happened. Oblivious to the arrival of the telegram and what its contents might have been. If I had it my way, I would have stayed there, but as I started to wake up a little more, the events of the previous day came rushing back.

Even after having a night to sleep on it, I still refused to believe that the telegram was telling the truth about Mum. I had a clearer mind and it became obvious that the Germans never would have bombed a residential street; they would have gone for the docks or a Naval base. What would they have to gain from bombing a street? What would they achieve by killing an innocent person like Mum?

Whatever that telegram said, it was wrong.

I sat up and climbed off my bed, grabbing my slacks and blouse from the floor. When I grabbed my blouse, I noticed a slight shake in my hand but I clenched it into a fist and flexed it again, determining it to be a side effect of having stood up too quickly. Trying my best to ignore it, I dressed and ran a brush through my hair which had become matted on one side from where I had been sleeping. Before I went downstairs, I stepped into the bathroom and caught myself in the mirror.

My eyes were red, almost as if I had been crying but I didn't remember waking up in the night and I couldn't imagine why I would have been crying. Deciding I had most likely rubbed my eyes in the night, a habit from when I was younger, I splashed some water on my face and brushed my teeth. When I stepped out of my room, Goose stood outside the door staring at me with her tail wagging. I gave her a fuss behind the ears before climbing downstairs.

"Morning," I said, jumping off the last step into the living room. Jonathan, who had been sitting on the settee reading the newspaper, jumped.

"Morning, Sybil," he said, staring at me with wide eyes. "Your chores are already done."

"Even Juliet?"

Jonathan nodded. "Fed, watered, and raring to go."

"Oh. I thought Juliet was my responsibility."

"She is, but I thought you could have the morning off, just this once." He winked at me.

I nodded, still a little confused as to why Jonathan would take on my morning chores when he had been so adamant that looking after Juliet would be my responsibility. Why he would suddenly change his mind, I didn't know but I was glad to not be traipsing outside early in the morning, especially with the cold wind setting in.

Jonathan placed his newspaper onto the coffee table, sending a piece of paper across the top with the slightest gust of wind caused by the movement of the paper. At first, I didn't know what the other sheet of paper was, but it didn't take me long to realise that the paper was the telegram we had received the day before. I couldn't understand why Jonathan and Barbara would still have it, especially since it was nothing but a lie or a mistake. They should have thrown it out.

After catching me staring at it, Jonathan quickly tucked the telegram in between the sheets of his newspaper. He smiled at me, acting as if he had done nothing, before shuffling past me and heading into the kitchen where Barabara was finishing preparing breakfast. Once he was out of sight, I managed to grab hold of the edge of the telegram and pull it out of the newspaper, stuffing it into my pocket. Perhaps if I read it myself I would know the truth of what happened and why they had sent it.