January, and it was the dead of night when Emma woke up cold in her bed to the sound of a freight train rumbling through the town. She pulled the covers up around her shoulders and turned onto her other side. The rumble went on and on until the last of the carriages passed the end of Custer Street and the sound slowly faded away, leaving silence in its wake. On the bed against the wall, Gladys slept soundly. Not a murmur from Irene.
Emma pulled the covers up to her chin and tuned into the soft breaths of her daughters, her thoughts straying all the way to Kobe, to Ernest, asleep in another bed, with his interpreter, no doubt.
To rid herself of the image, Emma pictured the others in the house, deep in slumber, especially Anna in the room across the landing. Emma liked to think of Anna. Wh
