Sleeper in the Valley

9.

**TRIGGER WARNING IN COMMENTS**

Diary of Nora Vivienne Holland

Sam has returned from the war. Discharged due to injury. He was devastated when he found out about Tom. He came and sat in Tom's chair for hours, staring out the window with his good eye, the other half of his face scarred from the grenade. He can't walk without pain, but the doctors have removed as much shrapnel from his leg as they can without crippling him further.

Harry's still out there and Sam pines for him. Sam's staying with us, in the spare room. It's nice to have his company, actually. After a few weeks he began to play Tom's guitar, though Sam's a better pianist than guitarist.

I cannot explain how it felt to have music in my life again. It was wonderful and awful. Like the house  was full of wonder again, but it was hollow. There was someone missing. For a brief moment it was as if Tom was here, playing in the lounge room as he always would. It was so real that I rushed from the kitchen to see him, to throw my arms around him and weep tears of joy.

But it wasn't Tom.

Sam wrote a song for Tom. I sing it to Nicky as he falls asleep, like Tom used to sing to him before...

In a green hollow
Where a river sings
Tiny valley
Blue bells rings
There's a young soldier
Under the clouds
His mouth is open
And the light rains down

And the light rains down
And the crows come 'round
To the two red holes
In his right side, oh

Sleeping in the sun
His hand on his breast
Nape of his neck
The blue watercress
He's just a kid
And he never knew
He would be
The sleeper in the valley so soon

So soon, so soon
And the crows, they swoon
At the two red holes
In his right side, oh

Oh Tom. I wish you were here. I wish that I'd refused to let you go and insisted you stayed here with me, where you would be alive and safe, watching Nicky grow. Maybe Theresa would've lived had you been here. Another thought I drive myself mad with.

I know that there's an unmarked grave where you rest, somewhere in France. Maybe I'll go there one day. I'll find your name, one among thousands. I'll search every grave till I find you and then I won't leave. I will lie atop your final resting place and wait for the earth to claim me, so that I may be reunited with you again.

But I cannot travel. Not on the meagre widowers pension that they give me. Nicky is still too young for such a voyage anyway. But maybe when he is older and understands what happened, we will travel to find you.

**

Diary of Nora Vivienne Holland

The war has ended. But not for us. Our war continues to rage behind closed doors, the battles waged in heartbreak and devastation, far more efficient than the hail of bullets that claimed my love.

Harry committed suicide. Unable to cope with life after what he experienced in the war. Shell-shocked was the Doctor's diagnosis. Apparently he's not the first.

Sam found him. Poor Sam. Blind in one eye, can barely walk without the assistance of a cane, and now he's lost his twin. Sam has moved back in with Nicky and I. Says he cannot stand to be alone.

I understand.

Nikki and Dom are heart-broken, naturally. Not only have they lost Tom, but now they've lost Harry as well. They've left London and moved to the country for Nikki's health, which is failing. We went to visit them, Sam and I trying to make the journey fun for Nicky, despite the heaviness that hung in the air. Nikki was a ghost of herself. Rail thin, staring blankly at nothing. Nicky didn't understand why Nan didn't pick him up or feed him ginger biscuits. It broke my heart, for both of them. I fear that she will not come back from this.

Paddy is angry. He's been getting into all sorts of trouble, worse than when Tom and Harry were alive, and Dom has no idea what to do. I've said that he can come and stay with us if he gets to be too much for Dom to handle.

Because I understand.

I understand how all of them are feeling because I live it, and have been living it everyday since Tom died, only to have my pain and anguish compounded by Theresa's death.

I wonder if I'm really as sane as everyone thinks I am. I barely sleep or eat, just enough to keep my going. I honestly believe that if I didn't have Nicky, I wouldn't be here.

Poor Nicky. It's much harder to keep him out of the loop, now that he has some grasp of what's going on. He keeps asking why everyone cries all the time, which only makes it worse for them. I've tried explaining it to him, but it's all too much for him to comprehend. He doesn't understand why I cry every March, remembering those awful three days to bring Theresa into the world, only to have to bury her immediately.

He's only five after all.

So for now I just say that everyone misses Daddy, baby sister Tess and Uncle Harry, and wishes that they were still here. And he nods, serious as all children are when they're told the truth, a small line between his furrowed brows. God. He looks like Tom when he does that.

"Know that everyone loves you, darling. And that you make everyone's days brighter" I tell him, trying to be strong for him, to keep my voice calm and smile in place.

But the words ache, the hole in my chest expands, and though I do my best not to cry, I cannot stop my tears. My wonderful boy has known more heartache than a child should ever have to know.

And as I cry, he wraps his little arms around my neck and holds me tightly, whispering "I love you Mummy. I love you Daddy. I love you baby sister Tess. And I love you Uncle Harry", over and over as I crumble and begin the arduous and painful process of putting myself back together. Because now it's not just Nicky who needs me, but Sam and Paddy, Nikki and Dom, more than ever.

Oh Tom. I wish you were here.