I lay quietly, listening to the sounds around me but mostly I listened to Pascale breathing, gentle now, steady.

“Karen...” she said, slowly, as if considering her words.

“Yes, Pascale?” I replied.

“Karen, I am sorry I got turned on by your story. I didn't know that boy was so horrible.”

“That's all right, Sweetheart. I do understand, honestly.”

“You are sweet,” she said, “How did you turn out so well after all that you have gone through?”

“It is just how I am, I suppose. Deep down, I look for the good in people.”

“Will you tell me some more about your life, please?”

“Pascale, I will tell you everything you wish to know,” I promised, “but not right now, it is getting late and you need to sleep.”

“Oh, yes, I am sorry but soon?” she insisted.

“Yes,” I laughed softly, “Soon!”

She went out to the kitchen from where I briefly heard the sound of running water, then returned, a few minutes later.

“Sorry,” she whispered, somewhat abashed, “I had to clean up a little.”

“Ah, I see,” I chuckled.

She flicked up the switch by the door and extinguished the dim bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling.

Once again I lay still and listened to the rustling of her blanket and little creaks of the cushions as she made herself as comfortable as she could in the big old armchair..

“Goodnight, Karen,” she whispered. I hope you are able to get some sleep. I am here if you need me.”

“Goodnight, Pascale,” I replied. “Thank you.”

And then, all was quiet. I listened as her breathing changed form general, easy breathing into the deep regular breaths of sleep. I smiled inwardly, happy.

From the darkness I heard a crow cry, raucous and loud. It flew down and landed upon the top of the darkened, shadowy form of the curve on the top of the stone beside which I was standing. I looked about me. All I could see in the almost complete darkness were gravestones. Some straight, some leaning. I could see the black silhouette of a stone Angel ahead of me and to my right, a large Celtic cross, barely visible in the blackness.

The air was cool but not cold, on my flesh. The crow squawked again and I looked at him, his head tilted to one side as though studying me.

I began to realise that, although dark, there was enough moonlight to be able to see the names on the stones. I recognised them all. They were the names from the passenger manifest.

A great sadness washed over me but also, a calmness inside. A calmness I had not experienced for so long.

I felt quite strange being there. I had no sense of fear, even though, in the eerie silver light of the moon, much of what lay ahead was hidden in the shadows. I began to walk, moving slowly with silent footsteps, from stone to stone.

At each one I stopped and read the name. I could see the faces of each one as clearly as if they were standing there. I saw the name from seat twenty-three, George's colleague, I saw the faces of the elderly couple from seats one and two, they were smiling up at me, as on the day when I first saw them whilst I carried out my cabin checks. At each grave a different face, all as vivid as if they were really there.

“I'm sorry, so truly sorry,” I whispered to every single one.

I realised that the crow was following me, stopping where I stopped, watching me intently, his shiny black head tilted, first one way and then the other. His deep black eyes blinking. I stared at him as he stared at me.

“I couldn't save them,” I told him, “I should be here with them. I tried but I failed.”

The crow blinked once, then again and tilted his head.

With a last cry, he spread his wings, jumped into the air and flew away.

I watched as he disappeared into the blackness.

“Just like everyone else,” I shouted after him, “Leave me on my own!”

“You are not on your own, Karen. I am with you everywhere you go.” The soft voice startled me, I hadn't heard any sound of footsteps or anything thing else that alerted me to the fact someone had approached.

“Mum?” I spun around to face the direction from whence the voice had come, “Mummy!” I exclaimed, running the few short steps to where she was standing and throwing my arms around her, holding her so tightly, never wanting to let her go, ever.

“I will be with you, watching over you until the day that you finally join me.”

“But I should be with you now, with all of these...”

“Ssshhh...” She put a finger to my lips. “You did all you could, more even. You couldn't save them, it was not your choice. That decision had already been made, you could not change that. Those whom survived, the ones you led to safety, their time had not yet come, the decision on their future, and yours, has not yet been made but you prevented their early demise.”

I looked carefully at her.

“You mean that had I done nothing, they would still have survived?”

“Oh no, make no mistake, Karen. Doing nothing would have allowed the Reaper to collect more souls. He will take whatever he can. You cannot prevent him taking those whose time has expired but that doesn't mean he won't take those whose time has not yet come!”

I thought for a moment.

“And you?” I said at last, “Could I have saved you?”

My mother smiled.

“No,” she said, shaking her head sadly, “You could not, no one could.”

I heard a Raven cry out in the distance.

“I must go. Don't worry, little one, I will always be near.”

Once again I put my arms around her waist but they closed about my own, holding nothing. She was gone.

I stood, motionless, lost, I had no idea why I was there or where I should go and so, eventually, I stepped out into the darkness, aimlessly. I did not know where I was walking to but I could see a faint orange glow ahead so continued towards it. As I got nearer I saw that it was the glow of a fire but not a visible fire, one that was hidden deep in the earth with the glow flickering from a hole in the ground like a fissure, the like of which I had seen in movies of volcanoes erupting.

Beside the fissure I could see a man, silhouetted against the glow, his back to me, looking down into the heat.

“Who are you?” I questioned him.

He didn't answer but just continued to stare motionless into the gaping abyss.

“Come away from the edge, you will fall,” I called out, trying to make myself heard above the clamour coming from below.

“He cannot hear you,” a man's voice said, “His time has come and gone, you cannot save him.”

I looked about but could see no-one. The orange glow flickered and illuminated the nearest gravestones in an eerie light and I spotted the name on the one closest to the edge of the fissure.

“Yes, that is right,” the unseen voice spoke again, “You know him. As he lived his life, so shall he be rewarded in death!”

I didn't answer, couldn't answer. I was in shock and, suddenly a brighter flame flared from the opening and the man turned and stared at me.

“I will be waiting, his time will come!” The words seem to appear inside my head rather than come from his mouth, which didn't move but I knew they came from him.

My eyes opened in horror and I clapped my hand to my mouth as he fell backwards with a blood-curdling scream.

“Noooooo...!” he cried and the scream was lost in the cacophony that rose from below before the fissure snapped closed and it was as though it had never been there. All that remained was the gravestone with the his name amongst all the other gravestones with the names I knew.

I stood still, silent, staring towards were the fissure had been. I felt strange but, oddly, not afraid, I felt as though there was something I should know, something I had to do, and yet, had no clue whatsoever what it could be.

I began to walk back the way I had come until I saw a low stone table, Something seemed to draw me to it.

When I reached it I brushed away the dust upon its surface to reveal the name engraved thereupon but, to my surprise, it was blank! I sat upon the edge and, after a moments thought about who's name should be there and why there would be a grave which was not exactly inconspicuous, I swung my legs up then lay back against the weathered stone surface and closed my eyes. I felt as though I had been there before, in another life perhaps.

I closed my eyes and crossed my arms over my breast, a hand upon each shoulder and listened as the blood flowed through my ears, pumping loudly with each and every beat of my thudding heart and all my worries and fears seemed to leave me. I felt a peace flow over me and then a warmth enveloped me as though someone was holding me, protecting me, keeping away all the bad memories of fear and loneliness. Slowly, the hard pounding rhythm began to slow and the tension I had felt drained away.

I breathed out slowly and relaxed the tension now replaced with an incredible contentment.

I lay still for some time, holding on to the feeling, wanting it to stay forever but, eventually I opened my eyes, expecting a bright light to be shining, as was depicted in so many accounts of death but there was no such thing, just a dim, yellow glow and I saw that I was in my bed but that feeling of warmth was still with me. I tried to move but something was still holding me so I looked down and there, around my waist I saw an arm and suddenly I realised, Pascale!

She was no longer in her chair but pressed tightly against my back. We were like a couple of spoons in the cutlery draw and I smiled inwardly remaining still for a little longer. It was such a long time since I had been so close to another person.

I closed my eyes and just lay there, relaxed, I had seen that the sun must be up as the light through the little cut out in the shutter was bright. Dawn was long past.

A short time later, probably only a few minutes, although it seemed longer, there was a soft tap and the door slowly opened. My heart leapt into my mouth, Françoise!

I pushed Pascale's arm away and sat bolt upright in sheer panic then gasped and cringed as I felt my recovering wound pull with the sudden movement.

“Françoise! I... I...” Words failed me and I looked at Pascale and back at Françoise, who was standing, smiling, in the doorway, holding two cups of steaming coffee.

“Shh, Calm down, Karen. Don't worry, I know nothing happened,” she chuckled.

Pascale stretched, sleepily. 

 "Mmm, good morning, Maman,” she said.

I saw that Françoise was dressed in her uniform.

“What time is it?” I asked her as she placed the cups on the small stand by the bed.

“Six thirty,” came the reply, “I thought you might like coffee before I go. Did you manage to sleep?”

I thought for a moment.

“Yes, I think so...” I replied carefully, “I had a really strange dream but I didn't feel frightened for once. I don't think I awoke, at least, I feel as though I slept well...”

“That is good,” she smiled. “I must leave now. You can tell me all about it tonight.” and with a little wave, she was gone.

I sat and stared at the door for a minute and then slowly turned to Pascale. I frowned but she just laughed.

“Your face!” she giggled, “So funny!”

“Funny?” I retorted, “I nearly had a heart attack. What if she thought...”

Pascale doubled up with laughter.

“She wouldn't mind if we had but she trusts you and she trusts me. She knows that I wouldn't do something you didn't want and she also knows that you respect her, respect Dominique and me as well.”

“Well it scared me half to death, I don't mind telling you. I would hate for her to think I had broken her trust.”

“I am sorry,” she apologised at last, “But that wasn't why I got into bed with you.”

I said nothing, just raised an eyebrow to indicate that I was listening.

“No. I awoke in the night, something disturbed me. You were mumbling in your sleep, very restless and kept turning back and forth. I couldn't make out what you were saying other than odd words, something about 'souls' and 'time'. It didn't make any sense to me but whatever you were dreaming seemed to be troubling you, although not like when you cried out on the verandah, so I thought it might help you if I cuddled you. I climbed into bed beside you and held you so tightly and it seemed to do the trick, Almost immediately you calmed down and your breathing slowed and became more regular.”

“I felt you...” I spoke slowly, remembering. “I was lying upon a gravestone when suddenly, a great feeling of calm came over me, as though I was being protected, It was you...”

“You sensed me? In your sleep?” she looked at me, aghast and I nodded in affirmation.

“It must have been you because I felt as though I was being held. Perhaps you disturbed me, I don't know but whatever it was, it worked. That was the first full nights sleep I have had in weeks!”

I reached out my arm and put it around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me.

“Thank you, Pascale,” I whispered and kissed her softly upon her red, tousled bed hair.

“She looked up at me and smiled, then rested her head upon my shoulder.

“You are welcome,” she whispered back.

“What exactly were you dreaming?” she asked at length. “If you don't mind me asking of course.”

“I don't really know,” I sighed, “You know how it is with dreams, they are symbolic. I remember being in a graveyard and the rest is sort of hazy but I felt weird, on edge. When I awoke I could still feel that feeling although it was quickly forgotten when your mother came in!”

“And you can't remember the dream at all?” She seemed disappointed and I pondered for a while.

“No, well... maybe, I am not sure. I can feel it but it is like it is in my subconscious, being suppressed somehow.”

“All right, I won't press you. Maybe it is not good to bring it back but, if ever you need to talk, I am here for you, Karen,” she said, “Not for my pleasure, you know, although...”

I smiled as she paused. I knew what she was thinking and didn't have to wait long before she told me.

“I would be lying if I said that you don't interest me because you do. I have talked about such things with Maman and with Doctor Harlow. I find mental issues terribly fascinating... Oh... I don't mean that...”

She stopped and her face turned bright red with embarrassment.

I gasped aloud and put on a look of shock and hurt.

“Oh, Pascale! You think I am crazy?”

“Oh! No!, Karen, No! I didn't mean that at all! Oh gosh, I am so sorry...”

I stared hard into her eyes but I couldn't keep up the pretence. I felt so sorry for her, her face was a picture of fear and embarrassment and immediately I felt sorry I had done this. My face cracked into a grin and I burst into laughter.

“Oh, Pascale!” I exclaimed, squeezing her shoulder and pulling her to me, “I'm so sorry, I couldn't resist. I understand what you meant but I think 'psychiatric' may have been a better word?”

She pouted.

“That was mean. I couldn't bear to upset you and I thought I had.” She put her arms tighter around me and nestled her head against my shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” I repeated, “I know you would never say or do anything to upset me.”

“No,” she whispered, “I never would.”

The day grew brighter and warmer. The heat by midday was becoming unbearable and all I did was sit in the chair on the verandah. Pascale fussed about me like a mother hen but it was nice. Her attention made me realise just how lonely I had been since my mother was killed.

I had met many people and made superficial friends but Pascale was like a sister. All of them were like the family I never had.

Dominique returned home later in the afternoon and she too helped Pascale to look after me and keep me company. Between them, they drove away the fears and memories and, by the time Françoise was due to return I had helped them prepare dinner.

Dominique to set five places at the table and Pascale placed bowls of crisp fresh salad in the centre with serving spoons so that each of us could help ourselves.

My leg was sufficiently healed now to enable to stand for short periods without crutches so I sliced bread and vegetables whilst Pascale cooked a chicken.

When all was done I stood for a moment and looked at the table. It was a meal for a real family. It was then that I realised that there were indeed, five place settings.

“Is your friend joining us tonight, Dominique?” I asked her.

“Have you forgotten?” she replied with a frown, “It's Friday.”

“ No, I haven't forgotten, I know it's Friday but...?” I was puzzled.

“Your father is coming for the weekend!” She almost laughed as she said it.

“Oh, gosh, yes! So he is.”

I had quite lost track of the days and, for the moment, had not appreciated that Friday was almost the weekend. I felt so stupid!

“Maman is meeting him at the station on her way home,” Dominique looked at the clock. “They should be here soon.”

No sooner had the words left her lips than I heard the sound of a car pull up in the driveway.

“Talk of the Devil!” Pascale smiled, “That will be them now!”

A moment later the door opened and Françoise and my father walked into the kitchen.

“Wow! Look at you!” my father exclaimed, his face breaking into a beaming smile as I hobbled carefully towards him. “No crutches! You are healing well!”

I put my arms around him and held him tightly. I felt his strong arms envelop me and I felt safe and happy.

No further words were needed and I released him and we sat at the table to eat.

We chatted as we ate but as time passed I began to remember the dream and, particularly, the man at the fissure and a feeling of unease began to fill me. What did he mean, 'His time will come'? Who's time and why would he be waiting?

To be continued...