They’d all been in the sitting room; bunched together around a spread of sandwiches and cakes that Hilda had laid on. Adam had been too young to fully appreciate what had happened to Douglas or the toll it had taken on Corrine. He hadn’t thought much about that day since he’d lived it; but confronted suddenly with the image of an ailing Victoria, it had all come flooding back.
He’d overheard Corrine telling Hilda that nothing made love more eternal than sharing someone’s dying days with them. He’d caught sight of Hilda’s tender, consoling smile; heard the first notes of Corrine’s tears as the music of her sadness began its recitation.
He’d scurried back upstairs, using whatever judgment children rely on to determine for themselves when discretion is the better part of valour. He hadn’t d
