last I gulped air and screamed.
Samuel lurched upright and found me in the half-light, held me until I calmed. When my wits returned enough to babble, ‘There, at the window, a face, it was horrible, Samuel, a horrible ghostly face,’ he sprang from the bed and dragged on his trousers. Grabbing a cloth bundle from under the bed, he unrolled a black object and rushed out the door. I heard his footsteps pound down the stairs then around the side of the hut, crunching through the bracken as he moved away. A moment later he returned, thudding back up the steps and across the verandah, bursting through the door with a muttered curse.
‘Who was it?’ he demanded.
‘Don’t know.’
He replaced the black object on the floor under the bed and gathered me into his arms.
‘Whoever it was, they’ve gone. I tell you, Aylish,’ he said, stroking my hair and pressing his lips along my brow, ‘if I getmy hands on the mongrel . . .’ He pulled back and examined my tear-stained face. ‘Did someone follow you here? Are you sure you didn’t recognise them?’
‘It wasn’t a person, Samuel. I’ve already told you. It was a ghost.’
He sighed and threw a thoughtful look across the room. ‘Ghosts don’t spy on people through windows, Aylish.’
‘This one did.’
Samuel’s eyes were full of shadows then, and he pulled me close. Retreating into the bed, we lay without speaking. The disturbance had stolen something; we were no longer alone in the universe, no longer cocooned in our dream. The outside world had crept through our barricade of love and polluted it with uncertainty and doubt. The night drifted by, and we must have dozed because, too soon, the piccaninny light began to blush along the eastern horizon, then dawn stained the hem of the sky first with pale green, then pink, then gold.
I shivered. I’d seen death. Death had seen me. Fear sprouted in my heart like a dark mushroom, pushing and straining until it broke through the surface of my resolve.
‘I don’t want you to go. I’m afraid you might die over there.’
Samuel folded me closer against him and kissed the top of my head. ‘No one’s going to die. I’ll be back before you know it – we’ll be married and never spend another moment apart for the rest of our lives. We’ll survive the war and be together again, Aylish, have no fear.’
‘Oh, Samuel.’ I wanted to snuggle like a kitten and take refuge in his arms, but then he was sitting up, drawing away and reaching for his shirt. With one final firm kiss to the corner of my eye, he clambered out of bed and retrieved his object from the floor.
‘Which means that while I’m gone, I want you to be safe. And the only way you’ll be safe is if you know how to defend yourself.’
Crossing the room, he paused by the doorway to look back. The light had strengthened, the edges of the sky were tinteddeepest blue, the colour of wild violets. Samuel drank in a breath of the moist air and shut his eyes, as though capturing the moment – the sight of me dishevelled and naked on the bed, the yearning that surely radiated from my eyes; the vase of rosehips, our scattered clothes, the scent of bush jasmine; and the dark tree-shadowed hole of the window.
‘Samuel – ?’
He blinked, then with a smile that seemed more sad than happy, he beckoned me to follow.
I dressed quickly but then lingered on the verandah. Samuel stood ten paces from the hut, fiddling with the object he’d retrieved from under the bed. There came a click as the weapon broke across the middle, and Samuel loaded six brass cartridges. He motioned me to join him.
‘No, Samuel.’
‘Come on, Aylish. It won’t take long.’
‘I can’t . . . you know Poppa opposes firearms. The mere idea of me handling a revolver would stop his dear old heart . . . But learning to use one? God help him, Samuel, he’d perish – ’
Samuel cocked a brow. ‘All the more reason to arm yourself. If Jacob won’t defend you, then you
Samuel lurched upright and found me in the half-light, held me until I calmed. When my wits returned enough to babble, ‘There, at the window, a face, it was horrible, Samuel, a horrible ghostly face,’ he sprang from the bed and dragged on his trousers. Grabbing a cloth bundle from under the bed, he unrolled a black object and rushed out the door. I heard his footsteps pound down the stairs then around the side of the hut, crunching through the bracken as he moved away. A moment later he returned, thudding back up the steps and across the verandah, bursting through the door with a muttered curse.
‘Who was it?’ he demanded.
‘Don’t know.’
He replaced the black object on the floor under the bed and gathered me into his arms.
‘Whoever it was, they’ve gone. I tell you, Aylish,’ he said, stroking my hair and pressing his lips along my brow, ‘if I getmy hands on the mongrel . . .’ He pulled back and examined my tear-stained face. ‘Did someone follow you here? Are you sure you didn’t recognise them?’
‘It wasn’t a person, Samuel. I’ve already told you. It was a ghost.’
He sighed and threw a thoughtful look across the room. ‘Ghosts don’t spy on people through windows, Aylish.’
‘This one did.’
Samuel’s eyes were full of shadows then, and he pulled me close. Retreating into the bed, we lay without speaking. The disturbance had stolen something; we were no longer alone in the universe, no longer cocooned in our dream. The outside world had crept through our barricade of love and polluted it with uncertainty and doubt. The night drifted by, and we must have dozed because, too soon, the piccaninny light began to blush along the eastern horizon, then dawn stained the hem of the sky first with pale green, then pink, then gold.
I shivered. I’d seen death. Death had seen me. Fear sprouted in my heart like a dark mushroom, pushing and straining until it broke through the surface of my resolve.
‘I don’t want you to go. I’m afraid you might die over there.’
Samuel folded me closer against him and kissed the top of my head. ‘No one’s going to die. I’ll be back before you know it – we’ll be married and never spend another moment apart for the rest of our lives. We’ll survive the war and be together again, Aylish, have no fear.’
‘Oh, Samuel.’ I wanted to snuggle like a kitten and take refuge in his arms, but then he was sitting up, drawing away and reaching for his shirt. With one final firm kiss to the corner of my eye, he clambered out of bed and retrieved his object from the floor.
‘Which means that while I’m gone, I want you to be safe. And the only way you’ll be safe is if you know how to defend yourself.’
Crossing the room, he paused by the doorway to look back. The light had strengthened, the edges of the sky were tinteddeepest blue, the colour of wild violets. Samuel drank in a breath of the moist air and shut his eyes, as though capturing the moment – the sight of me dishevelled and naked on the bed, the yearning that surely radiated from my eyes; the vase of rosehips, our scattered clothes, the scent of bush jasmine; and the dark tree-shadowed hole of the window.
‘Samuel – ?’
He blinked, then with a smile that seemed more sad than happy, he beckoned me to follow.
I dressed quickly but then lingered on the verandah. Samuel stood ten paces from the hut, fiddling with the object he’d retrieved from under the bed. There came a click as the weapon broke across the middle, and Samuel loaded six brass cartridges. He motioned me to join him.
‘No, Samuel.’
‘Come on, Aylish. It won’t take long.’
‘I can’t . . . you know Poppa opposes firearms. The mere idea of me handling a revolver would stop his dear old heart . . . But learning to use one? God help him, Samuel, he’d perish – ’
Samuel cocked a brow. ‘All the more reason to arm yourself. If Jacob won’t defend you, then you
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