A Sunlit Weapon: A Novel by Jacqueline Winspear

Author:Jacqueline Winspear [Winspear, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780063142268
Google: 1EKHzgEACAAJ
Amazon: B097RN7JZB
Goodreads: 58444861
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2022-03-22T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Clambering over undergrowth, Maisie and Billy moved with as much speed as they could muster along the rough path back to the farm, but as Maisie watched her assistant beat away the foliage once more, she grew concerned. She had no need to mirror his movement to know what caused him to lose balance and to understand what ailed him.

“Billy, I can see your leg is giving you trouble—let’s just take another breather. Stop now.”

“We don’t have time to lose, miss, and—”

“True enough—but I’d rather have you reach the motor car so we can get on our way, than have to leave you behind languishing in the undergrowth.”

Billy put his hand to his chest and leaned against a tree. Maisie stood alongside him.

“When did your leg start giving you trouble to this degree again, Billy? You were on an even keel for a long time. It was barely noticeable and your pain had diminished—even when we first started walking today, it wasn’t as obvious as in the past. I think you’ve become very good at masking your discomfort.”

Billy nodded. “It’s the time of year, you know, coming into autumn, that sort of thing, what with winter around the corner and the damp.”

Maisie met his eyes as he spoke, but he turned away.

“Billy, your leg started up again when you heard that your son had been taken prisoner. I saw it coming on—and I know what the pain means.”

“Just my old war wounds, miss. Just them blimmin’ old war wounds.”

Maisie stepped closer to Billy. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Wounds like ours run deep, Billy. Priscilla calls it the dragon living inside that you have to keep mollified. Give that dragon half a chance, and he roars back and the flames rush through you, along with all the memories in the dragon’s arsenal.” Keeping her hand in place, she stopped speaking for a moment, allowing the soft rustle of leaves and the soothing sound of the rushing river to fill the silence. “Yes, I’ll allow the weather can bring home the aches and pains, but wounds are also like radar—they tell us when something isn’t right. They alert us when the enemy of what we hold dear is approaching.” She lifted her hand from his shoulder. “You’ve been taking on your son’s suffering, Billy. You’ve allowed it into your bones—just as your wounds became your sons’ wounds when they were young. They may have been children, but they understood that you had endured unbelievable terror.”

“I knew you’d say something like that, miss. I just don’t know what to do—every morning I wake up and wonder if this is the day we find out he’s dead, or if this is the day we’ll hear footsteps on the path and he’ll open the door and say, ‘Dad, Mum, I’m home. Where’s our Maggie-Ro?’ Every morning, I get up knowing we’ve got to be a normal family until we go to bed at night and I can stop pretending that everything’s all right.

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