Chapter Twenty-five

SEVERAL MONTHS PASSED and Eustace and I set up home in a small house in Camberwell Gardens, with a garden at the back for the puppy to run around in. Our days passed in quite a regular fashion. We ate breakfast together in the morning and then walked the ten-minute distance to our respective schools, me standing at the gate until Eustace had entered his, then crossing the road to begin my own day. Afterwards, we met again and walked home together, ate our evening meal and sat reading or playing games until bedtime. We were content with our lot.

Eustace thrived in his new school. He appeared to put the events of the previous few months behind him, and I learned in time that he did not wish to discuss them at all. I tried on occasion to bring up the subject of his father, mother and sister, but it was pointless. He would shake his head, change the subject, close his eyes, walk away. Anything to avoid discussing it. And I learned to respect that. In time, I thought, perhaps when he is older he will want to talk to me about it. And when he is ready, I will be ready too.

He made friends, two boys in particular, Stephen and Thomas, who lived on our street and went to the same school as him. I liked it when they came to the house, for although they were mischievous, they meant no harm, had good hearts and, besides, I rather enjoyed their nonsense. Of course, I was only twenty-two years old by now; I was still a young woman. I enjoyed the company of these children, and the fact that they brought Eustace so much pleasure was a delight to me. He had never had friends before; there had only been Isabella.

In short, we were happy. And I trusted that nothing would come into our lives to disturb that happiness. We would be left in peace.