***

Mr Arthright made an abrupt movement in Sarah's face then walked away nonchalantly.

The lady behind him looked on in mortification, watching his lean figure disappear, enveloped by overwhelmingly bright streaks of sunlight.

Sarah was floating in the harrowing scene, unsure what to do. The premature ageing of her mind had vanished along with the adrenaline that had upheld it.

Finally, the lady brushed off her shock and turned to the forlorn child.

'Are you alright, dear?'

The question she posed was purely rhetorical, meant as reassurance and sympathy. However, being a child, Sarah felt the need to address question thoroughly.

'I am not alright. I do not think I will ever be alright.' Sarah began. 'I do not think my sister is alright, nor my father; yet my mother seems perfectly content. Why?' The lady motioned Sarah aside and sat down, stroking her back.

The situation was most peculiar. Somehow, in a matter of moments, a more urgent situation had eclipsed the other and brought the two people together. Perfect strangers were forced together by the darkness, driven to see the light by words of reassurance.

And from then, they were no longer strangers.

Far from it.

***

Mrs Pennyworth grasped the table, standing up slowly. The memory of the night Elizabeth left haunted her, the inner walls of her mind breaking down invisibly.

Whenever she cried she cried alone, with nobody to cry with her.

The letter lay, mere inches away from her fingers that crawled towards it. Once again her eyes slipped over the sloped, elegant hand-writing and once again her face was caressed by falling gems of salty water.

The bitter taste stayed on her lips until there came a knocker at the door. Mr Arthright. Her recognition of him was instantaneous. The pretentious garments that clad him were visibly beaming through the window, illuminated by the sun.

Mrs Pennyworth was the type to fight her own battles - and always prevail. However, in that moment, she knew that fighting a war of words with Mr Arthright could lead to grave consequences... and not just for her.

So, Mrs Pennyworth hid from him.

***

The lady, who Sarah learned the name of - Katherine Belemy - accompanied her home. Mrs Pennyworth was no longer in the house when they arrived.

She was to be located a few streets away behind a rose bush, cowering away.

Katherine turned to the child, her complexion ruled by a kind disposition of heart. There were no words for several minutes. Silence dwelt at their feet and mocked them.

'Do you wish to see them?'

It was such a simple question, only requiring a concise answer, yet Sarah gave no answer at all, but confounded in the lady by the way of an embrace.

As the small child clung feverishly to her legs, her small stature denying a further reach, Katherine looked down at her considerately.

***

The two found themselves by the newly dug graves of Robert and Elizabeth Pennyworth. Graves that were filled with decomposing bodies, anonymous in the large pit which pawed at them with dirt and disease.
The usually pleasant worms bumbling around just underneath the surface of the earth slid over the corpses and Sarah was reminded of a quote from Genesis... and for the first time she looked at the ground and, instead of puzzlement, faced dread. It was no longer meaningless. It was meaningful. Too meaningful.

'In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.'

***