The Woman In Black

Widowed

Mary Johnson was widowed at 26.

The news couldn't be withheld from her any longer.

Arthur was dead.

Mary, alone and ashamed went into hopeless depression, for no more that two miserable weeks, shocked that she would never see his face, or feel his warm embrace again. However, she soon discovered that if she continued lying in her small bubble of excruciating pain, her beloved children would have to be taken into someone else's more capable, and as they said 'stable' care.

That snapped her harshly back into her senses.

Alternatively, she made the decision to look further into the matter of Arthur's death, instead of moping uselessly, and get the full story of what and how it happened, before finally accepting that Arthur's time really was up.

Arthur, had recently gone on a work trip, and claimed he would come back by the end of the week, as he loathed staying away from his precious family, but by the end of the week, there was no sign of his return.

Growing worried, as one would as a wife, Mary sent a telegram to his office, enquiring about the matter, but the reply didn't give her any satisfaction.

'I send my sincerest apologies, Mr. Arthur Johnson, has not been sighted or heard from by any of my fellow colleagues, nor me in that matter, and we haven't heard from him since his departure to Eel marsh house, to collect the missing documents.

Regards, Mr. H Davis'

Mary was furious. In his 'sympathetic letter' he hadn't once reassured her that someone would be sent to Eel Marsh house to search for her missing husband. Now she began to wonder why everyone had it in their heads that he HAD died, given the fact that no one had checked.... this was certainly rather peculiar.

Well, Mary wasn't going to stand by and helplessly watch, while Arthur's work company did a very scarce amount of work finding evidence, to confirm if he really HAD passed away, and so being the loyal wife she was, she decided to travel to the village in which Eel marsh house belonged to, and question each and every person there, to see if anyone had any knowledge of her unusual situation.

She was going to find out what happened to her dearest husband, if it was the last thing she did.

*

(Mary's POV)

I cursed under my breath. I had stupidly just whacked my head on the banister on the bottom of the stairs, searching for my red hat box. I had been looking for the blasted thing all morning and to no avail.

I had packed everything else and was completely ready, so this short delay was irritating me more than I thought physically possible.

'For Goodness sake, were is it?!' I hissed to myself with gritted teeth.

Suddenly I spotted it.

In the far corner of the damp, gloomy broom cupboard, sat the box I had been looking for, for so long.

'C-come h-here youu...' I mumbled reaching forward as far as my short legs would allow me.

I grabbed hold of the small, polka-dotted box containing a surplus of the hats I had forgotten about, and smiled in triumph as I brought it towards where I was leaning.

After all my bags and boxes had been loaded into my carriage, I started to say my tearful goodbyes. Mrs. Alison, our nanny, was taking care of Donna and William, until I returned, and I wanted to make sure they knew I would be back as soon as I possibly could. The last thing I wanted was for my children to think that they would soon have neither a father NOR a mother, and become orphans in the harsh times of London.

'Now my sweet little Donna and Will.' I began trying to keep my voice even, so as not to upset them.

'I need you to be good little children for Mrs. Alison, okay? I don't want any telegrams saying you have been naughty or not done as your told, alright?' I finished my sentence with an involuntary sniff of sadness.

I knew I had to solve this curious mystery, but parting from my dear, sweet young-ones, even for a few days was almost too hard for me to bear.

'Mummy...' began Donna, just before I turned my head around.

'Yes dear?' I replied, facing her again, a small wobble of unhappiness in my answer.

'Is daddy coming home with you?' She said, her question muffled as her blanket was half wedged in her mouth, refusing to let her speak. William also gave me a questioning look, sucking his thumb, and making 'popping' sounds every so often.

'I'm not very sure, sweetheart.....maybe....'

And I wished with all my heart that he would be.

To be continued....

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