Sleeper in the Valley

Epilogue

She sits beneath a large tree, her hair turning grey. The bench she sits on is well oiled, the polished wood gleaming in the sunlight. Her fingers travel slowly over the grooves of letters carved into the wood. The wind moves the branches, sun glinting off a small gold plaque.

Every day she sits there. Sometimes for a few minutes, to rest her aching feet or catch her breath. Sometimes for hours on end, talking to thin air or just sitting and staring at nothing. Sometimes she is joined by a man with a scarred face and a limp, and together they sit and watch the sky, talking quietly or sitting in silence.

But every day she sits. No matter sun or snow, rain, wind or sleet.

She sits and waits. But for what?

The neighbours don't know, though they wonder. She has lived on this street in the same house longer than any of the other residents. She doesn't say much, bar a friendly hello or good evening.

But she never really seems like she's all there. Like she's constantly waiting for someone to come home.

**

"Nora..."

I look up to find Sam standing in the back door. He leans heavily on his walking stick, his scarred face lined and tired. I am sitting on the bench that Nicky made for me, talking to Tom and praying for him to bring Nicky home.

"Hello Sam. Do you want some tea?" I ask, patting the spot next to me.

Sam's face, behind the lines and scars, is pained, his eyes watery. "Nora, you've got a letter"

My heart sinks. And I know, I know it in my bones. I wish I was wrong but I know what has happened.

Sam is holding out the letter but I cannot move. I cannot make myself stand and take it.

"Open it" I whisper.

Sam sighs, tearing open the letter with shaking hands. "Mrs. Holland. It is with deepest regret that I write to inform you -". Sam's voice chokes and it takes him a moment to recover. When he does he's barely able to control his trembling voice, emotions too strong to be tempered. "To inform you that your son, Private Nicolas Garrett Holland of her Majesty's Royal Army, has been killed in the line of duty".

Sam can read no more. The letter crumples in his hand and he hobbles over to sit next to me, collapsing onto the bench with a choked sigh. Together we sit on the bench Nicky made, shattered in our grieved silence.

I knew it. I knew it would happen. Knew that I would lose him like I lost Tom.

Sam reaches out and takes my hand in his, squeezing tightly.

"Nora, I'm so sorry"

"I know"

It's all I can manage right now. I can't cry, though I desperately want to. I want to tear the sky apart with my screams. I ache to beat my chest, tear my hair from my head, to wail and curse and sob. I want to screech till my throat is ripped to shreds, till I lose consciousness and escape briefly from my living nightmare.

I want them all to know what I have lost and that it's their fault. I want the world to feel my pain, to know that through their selfishness they took away not only my husband, but my only son, my sole reason for being. I want them to see the devastation they have caused, to suffer as I have for years. The hollowness in my chest is expanding, a black hole sucking the life from me, from the world, draining it of colour, of meaning, of love, of happiness.

Nicky was all I had left of Tom. And now I have nothing.

"Oh Sam. What am I supposed to do?" I whisper as the waves of devastation begin crashing on top of me, swallowing me, drowning me in my misery.

Sam doesn't reply.

**

Diary of Nora Vivienne Holland

Nicky's dead. Oh Tom, he died just like you. In a stupid, bloody, goddamn awful war. He was only 27. Older than you, but still. He was my baby. He was all that held me together for so long.

He had a wife. Her name was Marie-Claude, beautiful French girl. But she couldn't cope. So she took too many pills with a draught of whiskey and fell asleep forever. And she was pregnant, Tom. Pregnant with my grandchild. She had a little piece of you and Nicky inside her. And now you're all gone and left me behind.

I'm sorry my love. I failed you and Nicky.

They forced him to go, the bastards. Invented this blasted thing called conscription and made him go and die, just like you. I'll never forgive them. Ever. To Hell with being a patriot, to Hell with this whole goddamn world! Without you and Nicky it's all as bleak and empty as my heart.

Before my sweet boy left, he gave me a gift. It's a wood bench, built it himself. He was clever and generous and kind, just like his Daddy. Carved our vows into the wood. Even had a little plaque made up for you, with your name. Put it underneath the tree in the backyard for me. Said it would be a place where I could go to talk to you. I think the cheeky bugger read my old diary that I kept during the war, after you...

I'm having a plaque made up for him. I'll have it attached next to yours, so when I sit out there I can sit with my men and tell you both what I'm doing, which is honestly not much bar waiting for death to claim me. Sam joins me most days, both of us waiting impatiently to die and be free of this pain, which is a constant reminder of what we've lost. Every day we must wake with the knowledge that you're all gone and never coming back.

God I miss you both. It's painful how much I miss you. I am but a bleeding wound, constantly blotting the edges in a vain attempt to stem the flow but no matter what I do it just keeps leaching.

You better take bloody good care of Nicky and Theresa till I get there Tom. Because I'm coming and when I do, I'm never letting go of you three ever again.