December Postings...

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THE SAPCE BETWEEN
Copyright Nicola Batty © 2006
PLEASE NOTE: The Space Between is a-work-in-progress-novel.
CHAPTER 4
Ross nodded slowly, still watching the rippling waters catch the light as they were disturbed by a passing punt which was being pushed along by a brawny, red haired student with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his large bare feet.
“I know exactly what you mean… I too dislike Bosie. I wish Oscar would see sense!”
“Oh yes… but I think it’s too late for that now. We never see him anymore, Robbie. The boys are always asking: Where’s Papa? Will he come home tonight? And what am I supposed to say? I can’t keep on lying to them… they deserve better than that.” She broke off and bit her lip. “They want their old Papa back to play soldiers with, and make fairy tale castles in the sand. It’s so unfair for them! How can he do this to his own sons, especially to Cyril… he used to stand there in Cyril’s nursery and just watch him sleeping. He said the child sleeping was too perfect to last and the situation must be disturbed at some time. Well, Cyril has grown older but Oscar’s love for him is still there, I think.” She fell silent as she watched the eldest of her two boys. He was paddling in the river, his breeches rolled up to his knees and his shoes in his hands. The sunshine caused his head of curls to gleam with an almost white light, so that for a moment he resembled something angelic. Constance turned to Ross, sighing. “But still… I wish I could be sure. I don’t feel sure of anything anymore, Robbie.”
He could think of nothing to say, so he simply shrugged and moved along the river bank towards her, searching in the pocket of his jacket as he did so.
“You should not think about these bad things for too long, Constance… you know there is really nothing that can be done, I’m afraid. So let’s change the subject completely. You should take this gift… where is it? Ah!” He drew the ivory silk purse from his pocket and handed it to her. “It was intended to be a birthday present, but it is a little late I’m afraid. Happy birthday anyway!”
Constance took the small object and turned it over in her hand, examining the embroidered black rose carefully. She looked up slowly, drawing in her breath and smiling.
“It’s lovely Robbie, thank you. It doesn’t matter a bit that it’s late.” Ross gave a little laugh.
“I had to wait for it to be completed. It was made by a friend of mine, you see, or rather the friend of a friend. He paused, wondering why he felt such an urgency to tell Constance this. He couldn’t explain it to himself for a moment, so he went on regardless. “Oscar may have mentioned this friend… Harriet is her name. We both met her some years ago in Whitechapel, and I met her once again by chance a few weeks ago.”
Frowning slightly, Constance shook her head.
“Oscar has never mentioned Harriet… how did you meet her?”
“Ohhh… it was just a chance meeting, nothing more,” he explained quickly, not wishing to elaborate upon the subject of Harriet. For her profession had been clear to him even then, and he didn’t wish to elaborate upon such a thing to Constance. “I must say that I was surprised, but she recognised me at once,” he continued with a shrug of his shoulders, “I didn’t think that I had such a memorable face! Of course she would remember Oscar… but he’s different, isn’t he?”

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