The Soft Whisper of Dreams by Christina Courtenay Page A

white-grey hair had been scraped back into a severe bun, making her seem even older, but the soft skin on her face was only slightly wrinkled. There were deep worry-lines on her forehead and around her mouth, and the bags under her eyes seemed to indicate either that she didn’t sleep well or that she cried a lot. Maddie was absolutely certain she’d never met her before.
    The woman began to regain consciousness, but as her glazed eyes came to rest on Maddie’s face once more, she became agitated again.
    ‘No, go away. Please!’
    ‘Mother, don’t be silly, she’s only trying to help. You fainted.’
    ‘No! Go away! Oh, why won’t anyone ever listen to me?’ The wails rose into a crescendo of pitiful crying, and Maddie thought it best to remove herself from the vicinity. If her face was the cause of so much grief, there was no point in trying to be helpful. Perhaps I remind her of someone she’s lost? She shrugged at the girl, who looked apologetic but relieved at the same time, and stood up. Frowning, she made her way back to the bench and sat down, putting on the sunhat which thankfully was still where she’d left it. Why had the woman taken such exception to her? It didn’t make sense.
    The wails behind her ceased shortly afterwards and as she risked a peek over her shoulder, Maddie saw the woman being helped to her feet. The passers-by who had stopped to offer assistance disappeared one by one, and finally the lady was alone with her daughter. She looked around furtively, as if searching for something, but Maddie bent her head down so her face was hidden by the brim of her hat and the woman didn’t spot her. Apparently satisfied, the lady set off almost at a run towards the nearest street without looking back, pulling the girl with her.
    ‘Mother, what’s the matter? Wait!’ Maddie heard the girl remonstrating with her mother, but apparently to no avail. The woman didn’t slow her pace.
    Her curiosity well and truly piqued by now, Maddie decided to follow them.
    ‘I seem to be making a habit of this,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Maybe I should set up in business as a detective.’ This idea was too ludicrous and she smiled to herself while hurrying to catch up.
    As she walked behind them, Maddie had a sense of deja-vu, and she soon realised why. The two women turned into the exact same street as the dark man had on the previous occasion, and when they hurried into the very same house as the minister, Maddie wasn’t surprised. Somehow it had been inevitable.
    Stunned, she stood there staring at the door, just like the last time. Thankfully no one came to ask her any questions and she was left alone with her thoughts, which were racing.
    If the woman lived in the same house, she must be Mrs Blake-Jones. But why had the sight of Maddie upset her so much? It didn’t make sense, unless they had met before. Maddie shook her head. She couldn’t make head nor tail of it. Mrs Blake-Jones obviously thought she knew her – and feared her by the look of things – but Maddie didn’t recall ever having met her. However, she recognised the woman’s husband, who in his turn didn’t appear to know who Maddie was. What the hell is going on here?
    Maddie rubbed her temples. Her head had begun to throb as the endless questions whirled around inside her brain. Nothing made sense anymore. She felt emotionally drained and unable to cope with it all. It’s too much.
    She hesitated, wanting to knock on the door and demand some answers, but somehow she didn’t feel she had the right. Judging by the woman’s reaction to her, she definitely didn’t want to see Maddie. Mrs Blake-Jones had made that abundantly clear. This thought caused Maddie to shake her head once more and turn back towards the car park. She had to get to the bottom of her own mysterious background before she did anything else. Then perhaps she would have some answers. She glanced towards the house one last time, but all was quiet.
     

 
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