Coronation Park lay to the south west of the town. A narrow path zig-zagged its way to the summit, through a covering of trees that blanketed one side. At the top, the path opened up into a large meadow and provided a grand view of the town below. Little houses straggled out before them, lining narrow roads which spread out, like tentacles, from the winding river that weaved its way through the town.
Rose looked down upon it, its sight and sound immediately taking her back to one of the many days she had been there with Sam. Nicholas must have sensed her mood, as he quietly moved away so she had the time and space to remember Sam without his presence invading her thoughts. Time passed and Rose eventually realised she no longer wanted to be alone. She looked about her for Nicholas. He stood no more than ten yards away, his head bowed, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his shoulders rounded as if he bore the weight of the world upon them. It did not surprise her. They had come here for her to remember Sam, but the solitude of Coronation Park also gave room for other people to remember and Nicholas must have a lot to remember too. Eventually he approached her, a dark crease between his brow the only sign of his concentrated thoughts from before. His attempt to break the silence was endearingly awkward. His voice was hoarse and a little broken.
‘Have you always lived here?’
Rose nodded. ‘Yes.’ She knew he didn’t really want to ask that question, but what do you say when you know that one is filled with grief?
‘How did you meet?’
‘On a day trip to the beach.’
Nicholas shuffled the grass at his feet with the side of his boot. ‘Was he good to you?’
‘Yes. I think he brought me out of my shell. He had a good sense of humour and used to make me laugh.’ Sam’s laughtercame to mind and her smile broadened. ‘No one could make me laugh as he did.’ She thought of Nicholas making her laugh on their trip to Truro and realised that was no longer true.
‘Some people have that gift.’ Nicholas ceased marking the turf and lifted his chin stoically. ‘His humour would have served him well in the army. Soldiers need someone like him to keep their spirits up. I did.’
Rose’s eyes began to smart. Since arriving at the summit she had felt nothing — not even sadness. She could not produce emotions on demand — until that moment she wasn’t even sure she had any left to show. She had been in the abyss of grief for so long that it had become normal to sometimes feel devoid of emotion.
Nicholas must have noticed the tears in her eyes as he stepped closer, his hands still thrust in his greatcoat. ‘I know it’s hard for you to think of Sam. We have all lost someone to the war. Many of the men I fought with died. Some I knew longer than others. Some I considered my friends.’
She brushed away a tear. ‘Sam was not a fighter. He should have been home . . . with me.’
‘Did he volunteer?’
Rose shook her head impatiently, ‘No. He was conscripted. It was all so senseless. Such a waste.’
‘Then he didn’t have a choice. He had to fight.’
Rose spun around to him. ‘Don’t you think I know that?’ She covered her mouth, shocked at her outburst. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not fair to take it out on you.’ She turned to the horizon. The carpet of houses below it blurred before her eyes. ‘I hatethemfor their warmongering. They laid down the lives of other people’s sons and fathers to fight for something we knew nothing about . . . until it was too late.’ She felt Nicholas’s arm about her, but resisted the urge to lean into him. ‘When his mother arrived with the news of his death I felt as if my breath had been sucked fromme. Those words ended my dreams for our future. It snuffed out the lives of the children we hoped to have one day. Oh . . .’ Her legs began to shake violently. ‘He’s not coming back, is he? If they had made a mistake we would know by now.’ Her legs buckled and she fell into Nicholas’s arms. An anguished cry escaped her, as she struggled for breath. ‘I still hoped . . . there had been a mistake. I thought . . . he might still come home.’
Nicholas rocked her in his arms. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered into her hair. She wanted to reply, say something to show she was going to be alright, but her body refused to obey her. She felt weak and fragile, like a new-born foal. Her grief had risen painfully and now slowly drained from her, sapping her strength as it did so. Eventually her sobs subsided and Nicholas brushed the hair from her tear-stained cheeks. ‘Sam is not coming home, my love. He is gone.’ He tilted her chin to look into her eyes. ‘He would not want you to be so upset. He would want you to look to the future.’
Rose found herself nodding as she leaned against him. She knew he was right, Sam always looked to the future. What a fool he would think she was, to be crying like a child almost two years after his death.
‘Look. It’s snowing,’ Nicholas whispered, as he looked up to the sky.
Rose lifted her gaze towards the grey clouds. The light was beginning to fade, but she could still see the silent flakes falling in infinite numbers towards her. She closed her eyes and allowed them to softly land on her upturned face.
‘It is snowing,’ she repeated needlessly. ‘Sam always liked it when it snowed. We spent our first Christmas Day with our own families. I didn’t mind. I thought we would have many Christmases together in the future. I was wrong. By our second Christmas, he had been called up.’ She opened her mouth so she could taste the flakes. Their icy soft crystals melted instantly onher tongue and made her smile. ‘Sam laughed at me for catching snowflakes like this. He said I looked like a fish.’
‘No doubt he will be up there smiling that lopsided grin of his, with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.’
Rose nodded and allowed Nicholas to help her to her feet. ‘Come on,’ he coaxed as she regained her balance.
Rose offered him a trembling smile. ‘I feel as if I have aged twenty years.’
‘Then it’s time I walked you home.’
They retraced their steps, following the path which was slowly disappearing beneath a carpet of snow. The journey began soberly, but by the end the festive spirit and picture postcard scenery of snow-topped roofs, hurrying pedestrians and brightly lit shops, had lightened their moods. As they approached the gas lamp in the centre of the bridge, it only seemed natural to pause there as they had done several times before. Nicholas reached into his pocket and withdrew the gift for his sister. He placed it in her hand.
‘This was never going to be for my sister. I don’t have a sister. It was always meant for you.’
Rose looked down at the small box wrapped in red and gold paper, tied with a scarlet ribbon. ‘I can’t take this.’
‘Yes you can. I should have waited until we were at your door before I gave it to you, but I was afraid your parents might be home and I didn’t want them to ruin the moment.’
Rose caressed the smooth ribbon with her fingers. The gift was beautiful, by far the prettiest thing she had ever owned.
