by John Creasey
She couldn’t keep the tears back; but a moment later she was laughing loudly.
There was sudden silence upstairs, and then Richard said in his clear voice: “Mummy’s downstairs.”
“Grace isn’t in her room,” said Scoopy.
“Mummy!”
“Mummy!”
“I’ll be up soon, boys. You can go into—Richard’s room, Scoopy. Don’t make too much noise.”
They laughed, delighted.
Roger said hoarsely: “He was in Richard’s room already. Nothing’s changed. God! I’ve got to see them, Jan. I must see them. I——”
“I’ll go and talk to them,” said Janet. “I won’t be long.” She stood up, then leaned over him and kissed him, and he felt her damp cheek on his. She swung round and hurried out of the room.
Mark was in the garden, hands in pocket, back towards the window, shoulders squared; cheerful again.
Janet said clearly: “Now listen, boys, I’ve a surprise for you.”
“You’ve been crying,” accused Scoopy.
“I didn’t do anything,” said Richard, defensively.
“No. No.” She could hardly get the words out. “Now— listen, boys. I’ve a big surprise. I’m not really crying, I—I’m laughing. Something wonderful—wonderful has——”
Scoopy cried: “Daddy’s back! Daddy’s come back!”
“Daddy!” shrieked Richard.
“Boys! Just a moment, it is Daddy, but——”
They were tumbling about on the landing as she tried to tell them what to expect.
* * * *
It would be all right; everything would be all right. He was alive again.
THE END