TURNING PAGE | ❝I surrender who I've been for who you are.❞
After the loss of her husband, Winifred Erstwhile must come to terms with her new life amidst her grief. In a world where society views her through the lens of marriage, the widow slow...
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THE VISIT HAD PASSED AS QUICKLY AS IT BEGAN. After their jam-packed day, Winifred and her sisters spent the rest of the long weekend together at Highbourne. It was a relief to be together with Abigail and Jemima in an environment she knew and enjoyed, and the feeling was clearly mutual. They were able to catch up on old times, whilst also exploring the village and staying up late together.
On the morning her sisters left, a blanket of quiet fell over the house again. It had been a jarring contrast to the constant chatter from Abigail and Jemima throughout the last few days. So, Winifred had done her best to busy herself as she always did. She sketched in the garden, practiced her violin, went walking through the local country paths.
She spent one whole afternoon reading and responding to letters she was behind on — from Lettie, Madeline, her brother-in-law Hugh, and even Sir Phillip Crane (thanking her once again for the encyclopaedic drawings). Winifred had melted into the chair in the study, one which used to be Joseph's predominantly. That is, whenever he was home.
Winifred still has his blue-eyed gaze overlooking her from a portrait of him in his uniform. It is the same one she brought down from the nursery, a room which has since been cleared of all its child-ready belongings. Toys and cribs were given to the Erstwhiles, should they bring more children, and a few of the dolls she knew a certain niece of hers would be very keen to play with... it had been a weight off her chest to bid goodbye to the nursery.
Still, having him watch over her from the painting frame now straddles a fine line between comforting and haunting. Winifred figures she should be accustomed to the solitude. It has surrounded her for long enough, even before Joseph died.
But now it seems to be more deafening than ever.
That feeling has been particularly strong in the days since her sisters left. It was only another few days later, on the fourth of October, that Winifred wondered whether it had all been leading up to this event — Joseph's birthday. He would have been eight and twenty.
Unlike last year, when the thought of visiting his memorial had paralysed her, she made the effort to go to that hill where his name is etched. She brought a fresh bouquet of flowers to lay down, finding another bright-looking bunch already stood there when she arrives. Winifred suspected either Lance or Hugh Erstwhile might have stopped by to pay their respects.
She had spent a few minutes there by herself, taking in the view.Then she placed one hand on the side of the stone.
