Part 9

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They sat at the kitchen table with an oil lamp and steaming cups of cocoa between them. Jacob felt as if he hadn't slept in a year and wasn't sure whether he was waking from a nightmare or entering one.

"Your parents died during the night," Rosemary said. "I'd been checking in on them, bringing them water and food, although they weren't eating much by then of course, and helping with Emma."

He nodded, thinking that he should thank her for doing that, but not really knowing how.

"When they passed, I brought Emma here."

"And she was okay with that?" Jacob said, remembering the girl who refused to eat if she didn't have her normal plate, who would kick and scream if she was interrupted doing something she was enjoying, who had been in a foul mood for more than a month when their parents had moved to Furness in the first place.

Rosemary shrugged. "Your parents knew they were sick. We'd been preparing her for a few weeks by then."

If they'd known they were dying, why hadn't they contacted him? The phones had still been working, they could have made the effort. But he knew the answer: if he'd wanted to help he would have gone to them. He was a grownup, capable of looking after himself, their priority had, understandably, been Emma.

"And now you're here," she said.

Jacob nodded, but before he could struggle to find the words to thank her, they were interrupted by Emma crying out. It was a shrill sound that he remembered well, it had woken him from the deepest sleep more times than he could remember. They were both on their feet in an instant.

"She has nightmares," Rosemary said. "I think that on some level she knows your parents are gone. During the day she's fine but..."

"It's okay," he said. "You go."

Emma was crying now, a sickening wrenching sound that drove needles into his nerves. Then Rosemary was gone and a few moments later the sound was reduced to a gentle sobbing.

He sat down and played with his cocoa cup. Jacob had never considered the possibility of finding Emma alive. It made things more complicated. He would be a stranger to her now, or, if she had any memory of him at all, someone who had abandoned her. They were family and he knew what his parents would have wanted him to do, what he should want to do, but all he had wanted was to assuage his guilt, not find someone

(a burden)

to look after.

And was it fair to her? She had been through so much already. She was settled with Rosemary and maybe it was better to leave it that way, rather than force his way back into her life.

He was still considering his options, going back and forth between staying and leaving, when the door opened, and Rosemary came back in. He had been so caught up in his dilemma that he hadn't even noticed Emma stop crying.

"She'll be okay now," Rosemary said. She sat back down and picked up her drink. "You look exhausted. You should rest."

"I'll be okay," he said.

"Nonsense. There's a spare room at the back, the beds made."

She got up and gave him no opportunity to argue. He followed her out of the room, his steps faltering for a moment outside Emma's door, and up the stairs to the second floor. Judging by the family pictures and flowery bedsheets, it had been her parents room.

"We'll talk more when you've had some rest," she said.

Jacob lay on top of the dusty duvet and stared into the darkness above him. He didn't expect to sleep, but he did almost instantly. Although he tossed and turned with dreams, when he woke he couldn't remember one.

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