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Contents (54)
  1. The Hour Before Dawn
  2. Table of Contents
  3. PROLOGUE
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. EPILOGUE
  49. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  50. About the Author
  51. THE HOUR BEFORE DAWN
  52. By the same author
  53. Copyright
  54. About the Publisher

I looked at her sitting in the chair in the half-light. We had thrown the shutters open and there was a moon out there, in a crystal clear sky of stars. If we turned the light on the mosquitoes would have had a field day. The small mosquito coil burning on the bedside table reminded me of Ah Heng squatting on the floor waiting for Saffie and me to go to sleep. The smoke from the coil would waft up around her head, the smell of it so much a part of being young. I looked at Fleur’s face and saw such sadness there, and I wondered, if she could go back, what she would change, apart from the obvious. I could hardly remember her happiness with Dad; I had concentrated on my own memories. Mostly they lived on in photographs and stories. Stories Fergus and Fleur had shared with me to keep him alive for me, to keep him firmly in my heart. And it had.

I was unsure if she had gone to sleep in the chair because her eyes were closed. I said softly, almost to myself, ‘If you could go back and have your life again would you wish for a life with David or with Fergus?’

I had wondered this so many times. Fleur and Fergus had been close, like soul mates. They liked each other as well as having a love that was unmistakable. I had been too young to know what sort of love my parents had. I only knew that Fleur and Fergus surmounted the sorrow they carried together, the sorrow I added to for most of my childhood. I saw now that their sadness added to the depth of their relationship, to the life they shared together. They never argued about unimportant things and I don’t think either of them ever took happiness for granted.

I guess it was why I could not help loving Fergus; despite the fact that I could never understand his lack of integrity when my father was alive. I knew he had saved us, Fleur and me. I knew he was special. He had the sort of loyalty and love that nothing can kill, absolutely nothing. It lasted his whole life. I could see and hear him now, saying, the day I got my degree, ‘How lucky I am! How incredibly lucky to have a beautiful and clever daughter!’

He had scooped me up in a bear hug with one arm, and Fleur, laughing, with the other. They had been inseparable, yet he never, ever made me feel the outsider in their lives.

So I said now, ‘If you could go back and have your life again would you wish for a life with David or with Fergus, Mum?’

She looked up straight away. ‘Nikki, you know it’s a question that I can’t answer. You might as well ask me if I would have preferred to be an Eskimo.’

I was glad to hear the exasperation in her voice. It was a pointless, childish question. I knew I had asked it instead of the thing I really needed to know, but did not want to hear. Why did you fall out of love with my Dad? What happened? What happened in that seamless memory I have of you both?