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* * * Sweat trickled down between her breasts as they walked slowly though the trees. The further they went, the thicker the undergrowth became. Ned was quiet for once, his face closed and pensive, and she knew that he was thinking about tomorrow. But then so was she. It hung over them like a bleak cloud, an ominous portent of doom. The musical sound of water distracted her from her thoughts and when the path twisted one final time through the trees, they found themselves in a grassy clearing beside a sparkling pool. At the far end of the pool, water cascaded down the side of the granite cliff in a picturesque waterfall. Green fronds festooned the rocks and tiny white flowers bloomed everywhere. It was a magical place. ‘I’ve never been here before,’ marvelled Eloise with surprise as she surveyed the scene in enchantment. Ned grinned at her expression of delighted astonishment. ‘Shall we eat…or swim?’ He dropped the small canvas bag he had been carrying on to the grass. ‘Swim?’. Her father would have happily married her off to his 50-year old business partner to cement the business more firmly together but, though obedient to her father in most things, she was not keen to take as husband a balding, overweight man with bad teeth. He wasn’t unkind, and he wouldn’t have been cruel, but he was shy; and he wasn’t a good catch for a girl on the cusp of sexual womanhood. She allowed his advances and wooing within strict limits, deliberately extending the period into infinity, the period between an apparent attraction and an accepted engagement.Mark Johnson became her escape from this deadly life. She knew she was lucky. She did not have to rise at 5am to black the range or wash the sheets in cold water in winter, or sleep in the cold garret or the basement where servants slept. She knew she was lucky; but her mind was atrophying. She had taken an interest in the Civil War. She had been fascinated that a democratically elected president could take undemocratic.
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