Till the Sun Shines Through by Anne Bennett

from her eyes and trickle down her cheeks and she ran from the place lest anyone should see. She knew she had to move well away. Anyone could be about the hall outside: people out for a breath of air to cool off, courting couples – anyone. There was a little copse of trees not far from the hall so she made for there and leaned her head against a tree trunk. She could still see the twinkling lights of the hall and hear the laughter and tantalising music from inside and it cut into her very soul. It felt like a mockery, especially as she remembered how excited she’d been about the dance. At the thought of that, the tears came in earnest, almost bursting from her in a torrent.
    She had nothing with her to wipe her eyes; she’d run in a panic, leaving behind her bag, her work boots and her stole. But she couldn’t go back for them, she’d look a sight and she knew her eyes would be puffy and red from crying and everyone would know something was wrong.
    But then what should she do? She couldn’t go home yet; her parents might still be up and would wonder why she was back so early. They’d know she’d have been upset by something and wouldn’t rest till they got it out of her.
    She’d take a walk, she decided. Her kid boots would be ruined, but no matter. It was precious few dances she’d go to after this one.
    One person, the one who’d watched Bridie all night, had seen the altercation between her and Rosalyn. He’d seen Bridie’s flight and Rosalyn biting her bottom lip in consternation.
    But he didn’t approach his daughter. Instead, he’d slipped outside and stood by the side of the hall and then, hidden by the velvety darkness, had begun to move forward. He’d watched Bridie approach the edge of the copse and had heard her tears, but he had not moved closer until he seen her enter the small wood and then he began to follow in earnest.

CHAPTER FOUR
    When Bridie heard the snap of twigs behind her, she told herself not to panic and stop imagining things. This was the wood not that far from her home that she’d walked in and played in as a child many a time. It was also the home of many small animals and birds and the rustling and cracklings around her were them going about their business, or settling down for the night.
    She did stop once and looked around surreptitiously, but she saw nothing and chided herself for her foolishness. Even when she thought she heard breathing behind her, she thought she’d imagined it.
    So when a hand shot out and grasped her bare shoulder, she jumped and opened her mouth to let out a scream, but the other hand, already clasped firmly over her mouth, effectively stifled it. ‘Don’t be frightened, Bridie,’ a familiar voice said. ‘It’s me – Francis.’
    That hardly made Bridie feel better and her heart was hammering in her ribs. She told herself not to overreact, to act as normally as possible. Whatever had ailed Francis a couple of years before had effectively passed and so she said sharply, ‘Uncle Francis, what are you doing? You could have given me a heart attack.’
    â€˜I was looking out for you,’ Francis said. ‘You shouldn’t be walking home alone. I promised your mother …’
    â€˜I’m perfectly all right,’ Bridie snapped. ‘I’m a wean no longer. And if you wanted to walk me home, why didn’t you call out? Why did you creep up on me like that?’
    â€˜If I’d have called out, you’d probably have run away,’ Francis said. ‘And break your neck likely as not because you’re nervous of me, aren’t you?’
    â€˜If I am, it’s with reason.’
    â€˜Ah no,’ Francis said, slipping an arm around Bridie’s shoulder and beginning to caress it gently as he continued, ‘I’d never hurt you, Bridie.’
    â€˜Don’t,’ Bridie said impatiently, trying and failing to dislodge