Percy nodded shortly. If Juniper had left the bus but still found her way home, it meant, presumably, that whatever it was that had caused her to lose time, that was responsible for the blood on her clothing, had happened close to home. Which meant that Percy had to check immediately, take the torch, walk down the drive and see what she could find. She refused to speculate as to what that might be, knew only that it was her duty to remove it. In truth, she was grateful for the task. A solid purpose with a clear objective would help keep the fears at bay, stop her imagination from running ahead unchecked. The situation was troubling enough without that. She looked down at Saffy’s head, the pretty curls, and frowned. “Promise me you’ll do something while I’m gone,” she said, “something other than sitting here, worrying.”
“But, Perce—”
“I mean it, Saffy. She’ll be out for hours. Go downstairs; do some writing. Keep your mind busy. We don’t need a panic.”
Saffy reached up to knit fingers with Percy. “And you look out for Mr. Potts. Keep your torchlight low. You know what he’s like about the blackout.”
“I will.”
“Germans too, Perce. Be careful.”
Percy took her hand back for herself, softened the fact by driving both inside her pockets and answering wryly, “On a night like this? Any brains and they’re all at home tucked up warm in bed.”
Saffy attempted a smile but couldn’t quite complete it. And who could blame her? The room was hanging with old ghosts. Percy stymied a shiver and headed for the door, saying, “Right, well, I’ll—”
“Do you remember when we slept up here, Perce?”
Percy paused, felt for the cigarette she’d rolled earlier. “Distantly.”
“It was nice, wasn’t it? The two of us.”
“As I remember it, you couldn’t wait to get downstairs.”
Saffy did smile then, but it was full of sadness. She avoided Percy’s gaze, kept her eyes on Juniper. “I was always in a hurry. To grow up. To get away.”
Percy’s chest ached. She steeled herself against the pull of sentiment. She didn’t want to remember the girl her twin had been, back before Daddy broke her, when she’d had talent and dreams and every chance of fulfilling them. Not now. Not ever, if she could help it. It hurt too much.
In her trouser pocket were the scraps of paper she’d found quite by chance in the kitchen while preparing the hot-water bottle. She’d been hunting for matches, had lifted a saucepan lid on the bench, and there they’d been, the torn pieces of Emily’s letter. Thank God she’d found them. The last thing they needed was to lose Saffy to old despair. Percy would take them downstairs now, burn them on her way outside. “I’m going now, Saff—”
“I think Juniper will leave us.”
“What?”
“I think she plans to fly away.”
What would make her twin say such a thing? And why now? Why tonight? Percy’s pulse began to race. “You asked her about him?”
Saffy’s hesitation was long enough for Percy to know that she had.
“She intends to marry?”
“She says she’s in love.” Saffy spoke on a sigh.
“But she’s not.”
“She believes that she is, Perce.”
“You’re wrong.” Percy set her chin. “She wouldn’t marry. She won’t. She knows what Daddy did, what it would mean.”
Saffy smiled sadly. “Love makes people do cruel things.”
Percy’s matchbox slipped from her fingers and she reached to collect it from the floor. When she straightened, she saw that Saffy was watching her with an odd expression on her face, almost as if she were trying to communicate a complex idea or find the solution to a plaguing puzzle. “Is he coming, Percy?”
Percy lit her cigarette and started down the stairs. “Really, Saffy,” she said. “How am I supposed to know?”
THE POSSIBILITYhad crept up on Saffy softly. Her twin’s glowering mood all evening had been unfortunate but not without precedent, thus she’d given it little thought other than to attempt its management so the dinner event wouldn’t be spoiled. But then there’d been the lengthy disappearance down to the kitchen, ostensibly to obtain aspirin, the return with a marked dress and a story about noises outside. The blank expression when Saffy asked her whether she’d found the aspirin, as if she’d quite forgotten having needed it in the first place … Now Percy’s determination, her insistence almost, that Juniper would not be marrying—
But no.
