Surviving in Harmony

Chapter Seventy-Four | Hester House, May 2021

Seventy-Four

Hester House, May 2021

Maeve Bowen hauled a large, dusty book from beneath her bed, sneezing violently. Her crinoline spread as she sat on the floor, inspecting the pictures. Yes, she had to be right – the sunny figure that had appeared, it had been her Nana Hazel.

In the pictures, the very, very old ones, her Nana looked worn. This was before she had children, Maeve knew because her scars were deeper, more prominent. The girl in the photos looked sad in her eyes, even though she smiled. It broke Maeve's heart.

In the later photos, she was plumper, and there was a different light in her eyes, a modified sadness. A heartache that was being nursed, but would never heal. Maeve had seen the same look in her Papa and Aunt Sonia's eyes, in many of their friends from the war.

Closing the album, Maeve carefully shoved it back under her bed and set down the hall, entering Robin's room. Her older brother had been sent home with a bad bout of Muggle pneumonia, for the fourth time in his life. Their hope was that he'd have been back at school weeks ago, but he was still weak. Maeve heard his chest rattling at night sometimes.

"Robbie?"

He looked up from the book in his lap, something on space Andrew had brought home from work the other day. He was doing part time at the Ministry now, leaving Maeve in the care of her Uncle Winston. Winston was happy to be Robin's main caregiver while he was home, and made dozens of broths out of his plants. Each one helped, but Robin still couldn't stay out of bed for more than a few hours at most.

"Hey, Mae." He patted his bed, and Maeve scrambled up. "I like your tutu."

"It's a crinoline."

"Ah, right. My apologies."

Maeve stroked the white crinoline she had picked out. Hester said no one at Hogwarts wore crinolines, but her best friends Lorcan and Lysander's mother wore them, and she was old. "How're you feeling?" she asked. Mama had said you always had to ask how Robin was feeling before proposing a game or task.

He shrugged, and then coughed a little. "I'm okay. Do you have a game in mind?"

"Not really, more of a – a mission."

Robin crooked one eyebrow, making him look remarkably like their mother. He had the warmest brown eyes, and they always made Maeve feel safe. Andrew said they were only a shade or two lighter than his mother's. It was all Robin had inherited from Andrew's side of the family looks-wise; he had the same cinnamon curls as Amara, the regal nose and jaw, along with the loveliest long lashes and lips. He was probably prettier than all of his sisters, in a traditional way. The Bowen girls however had a different kind of attraction, a wild look – even Hester, who liked to wear baggy knit sweaters and her chunky glasses. Hester looked like Amara too, but with Andrew's sky eyes – the kind of blue that reflected all the colours in the world.

"What sort of mission?"

Maeve leaned in. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course." Robin put on a very serious expression. Again, Amara flashes through his features.

Glancing behind her, Maeve whispered: "I saw Nana Hazel."

Robin gasped, and then leaned over to open his bedside drawer. He pulled out a photo, worn at the edges. "Are you sure, her, right there?"

Nodding eagerly, Maeve took the photo. "Yes! She looked just like that too, in a long dress."

"That's Auntie Sonia and Uncle Charlie's wedding, and when I saw Nana Hazel, she looked just like she does here."