Deceit. [COMPLETED.]

Chapter 76

"No time for running."

The room was warm and the noise minimal, the only distraction coming from a roaring open log fire.

Jenny Stamford was tired.

Her whole body ached but not just in a physical sense, it was as though her whole mind had begun to shut down and all she wanted to do now was go to sleep.

She sat in an armchair, her feet outstretched on top of a cushioned stool and held a glass of sherry in one hand that remained untouched.

She thought of the day's events.

There had been no tears.

Jenny didn't know what she would have done had the little girl cried but there had been no smiles either; just a sad expression on the young child's face and twice, her Amy asked when she could go home.

But of one thing Jenny was certain of was that her years of waiting was now finally over and of that she could be thankful for.

She again looked into the flames. She lost herself to the flickering light, her eyes glazing over. In her mind the flames resembled tiny people dancing and twirling around. Slim fairy like figures all arching their backs and as they held their arms aloft all dancing to the imaginary music that was the flame.

It took her back to her own childhood. To the endless days of her own attempts at dancing and spinning around. Of days spent trying to imitate the small porcelain figure perched on her music box.

Around and around she would go.

Always with her eyes closed.

Always imagining crowds applauding her.

Always on her own.

A sigh, delicate and almost silent, escaped from her lips. Her face hid all manner of emotions. Her face glowing from the heat of the fire.

She closed her eyes. She went back to the same solitary room she had as a child. The one situated high up in the stately home that she had shared with her family.

She saw her small writing desk made of pinewood that stood by the window overlooking the back lawn. The same desk she had used to write to her imaginary sister that was always at boarding school.

She saw her dolls house too standing there against the far wall six feet tall and filled with all manner of delicate and lifelike furniture. She had spent many a time there playing at being the lady of the manor, moving the furniture around, ordering her servants to clean every inch of every room.

And then of course there was her sturdy old rocking horse, the one on which she had imagined riding through the countryside with the wind in her face and the sun on her back.

Her room had been big. It had a tall pointed ceiling but of all the memories Jenny had only one emotion held firm.

Loneliness.

She allowed another sigh. Her glass still hanging in the palm of one hand.

She thought of her own daughter and wondered what sort of life she had had.

Her Amy had gone to bed without eating. That had hurt.

Jenny had walked with her up the stairs. She had sat on the edge of her bed. She had smiled and said goodnight but the child had simply turned onto her side and wrapped herself tightly under the duvet.

Her head had become lost inside one of the large fluffy pillows. Jenny had stayed with her for over an hour, watching her, listening to her slow calm breaths; desperate to stroke her hair, desperate to hold her like only a mother could but she had held back knowing that tomorrow would be a good enough time to start the healing process and tonight was a good time for mourning.