Page 134 of Strangers in Time

Molly composed herself and told Oliver about her mother being savagely attacked by the men in the bomb shelter.

“God. What a bloody, foul thing. People coming for safety and finding just the opposite.”

“Perhaps… perhaps he killed the soldiers because they represented the government that refused to help him,” she said, glancing nervously at him for Oliver’s reaction to her words.

“That could have been the case. But killing innocent people is never right, Molly.”

Her features crumpled. “I know. And he blamed himself for what happened to my mum, I’m sure of it. Poor father.”

“A terrible, terrible guilt to have to bear,” noted Oliver quietly.

“Do you… do you think he might have gone off to… kill himself, like…?”

Oliver looked deeply troubled with her query. “I really have no idea, Molly. Any answer I could give would be based on pointless speculation.”

“I mean, it would explain why he’s been gone all this time. Why he’s never written or tried to contact me.”

“People are very complicated. And your father had your mother and her maladies to worry about,andyour welfare to think about, too. And remember that he did work for England and from whatMajor Bryant told me, he was very good at his job. Very brave. It’s just that—”

“—he made the wrong decision.”

“As did Imogen,” replied Oliver.

“But she tried to make amends, while my father—”

“Yes,” said Oliver. “Quite so.”

Later, Molly got into a pair of old pajamas that had once belonged to Imogen, and went to her room. Charlie was lying, still fully dressed, on his cot, staring at the ceiling.

“Charlie, it’s late. You need to go to sleep.”

He said nothing, as was usual when he was like this, she knew.

She sighed, got into bed, and turned off the small lamp.

Later, she awoke and noted the glittering of a light.

It was coming from a candle resting in a holder on the table between their cots.

Charlie had his pen, and his journal, and he was writing in it.

Molly had seen him do this before. “What are you writing tonight?” she said sleepily.

He glanced at her. “Just this and that. Muckin’ round.”

“Will you ever let me read any of it?”

He glanced at her with a smile. “You need to stick to real books. They’re better for you. Learn thin’s.”

“Yours could be a real book one day that I learn from.”

“I doubt that. I can’t even spell good,” replied Charlie.

“Someone can spell everything quite nicely and it still wouldn’t be worth reading. I’ve read books like that. Ortriedto.”

Charlie grinned as he looked at her again. “You got a wonderful heart, Molly, like my mum. I’m glad we’re friends.”

She smiled warmly in return. “Comparing me to your mother is an amazing compliment, so thank you very much. And we’ll always be friends, Charlie. No matter what happens.”

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