Arthur shifted in his seat, as he tried to pay attention to what George was saying.

Where was Sophia? She was never later than him.

Ever.

In fact, when he had first arrived at the theatre that morning, he had allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. But now he was worried. Sophia had been acting odd the night before, almost distracted. And now...

"Arthur? Did you hear me?"

"Hmmm? Oh, sorry George. You were saying something about owls?"

"I asked if something was the matter."

"Oh"

"Well?"

"It's Sophia, I'm concerned..."

George interrupted him with a laugh, "break your heart again did she, boy?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide his smile as he said, "you're not funny you know"

"These women Arthur, you have to be careful."

George was in stitches by this point, and Arthur had to turn his head to hide his grin.

Francis leaned over the chair from the seat behind them, "what's so amusing?"

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but George beat him to it, "Arthur's having a lover's quarrel with Sophia."

Without missing a beat, Francis nodded solemnly, "pregnant, is she?"

The two older men howled with laughter at this, while Arthur sulked, "I was going to ask you for genuine advice you know."

After taking a moment to catch his breath, George said, "Oh, lighten up Arthur, Sophia's fine. She probably slept in."

"You're probably right."

"There you go!" George ruffled Arthur's hair, and Francis laughed as Arthur swatted him away.

For a moment, their laughter echoed around the walls of the theatre until George seemed to sense something behind him. One by one, the men turned to look at the figures standing in the doorway.

It was Eleanor and Sophia.

There was nothing obviously different about them, but there was something indistinct. Something melancholy and heavy hung around them and spread across the room- chiming discordantly with the previous mood and chasing the last traces of laughter away.

Maybe it was the hollowness in their eyes or their hunched shoulders, or maybe it was the fact that Eleanor looked so weak, she had to lean on Sophia for support. Or maybe it was that they were holding hands

Holding hands....

"What do you suppose that's about?" Francis murmured, presumably to George.

If George gave a response, Arthur didn't hear it.

After a long moment, Arthur collected himself enough, to raise his arm and try and get Sophia's attention.

But she didn't even look in his direction. Instead, she turned and whispered something to Eleanor, who nodded and sat on one of the chairs at the back of the auditorium. Then Sophia began to walk around the edge of the seats, before reaching Mr. Rob who was sitting at the front, reading some papers. She said something to him, and they walked backstage together.

Bringing his hand down slowly and placing it in his lap, Arthur could feel George and Francis' eyes on him. He stared at the floor, trying to avoid their gaze and blink away the idiotic tears that were slowly building.

What was that about?

The following silence felt too long to bear. Arthur didn't have to look up to know the looks of concern passing between George and Francis. Concerned about him. Unsure of what to do.

It was idiotic to be so upset about one moment. Arthur knew that. It was just.... He has always known what was happening with Sophia. He always knew what she was thinking. That was the point. They understood each other, shared their secrets. But not today. Today he was totally in the dark. That isn't how things are meant to be with a friend. Is it?

Eventually, he raised his head to confront the sympathetic faces. He was expecting some sort of great speech from George, full of nice sentiments, grand illusions, and sound advice. But all he got was a gentle pat on the arm and,

"These women, you have to be careful"

Arthur couldn't help but laugh this time. He gave a light chuckle and shook his head before the men settled back into silence.

****

A full half-hour passed. The orchestra had given up on waiting for Mr. Rob and had started warming up on their own. George had stretched his legs out in front of him and was dozing with his hands on his stomach. His faint snores could just be heard over the din of the orchestra. Francis was flipping through a newspaper, his fingers covered in ink stains.

Arthur was watching a pair of house martins build a nest below the eaves of the theatre's roof. It was busy work- each bird collecting as much mud and grass as it could carry. It was a little early to be making a nest, Arthur thought. From his memory, house martins normally began breeding in late spring, and it was only early April. The couple was clearly eager to prepare. He hoped that tonight's performance wouldn't disturb them. It would be such a shame if they had to abandon all their hard work.

He would have happily watched the birds all day, but eventually, a familiar voice drew him back to reality.

"Arthur?"

"Sophia...." he paused, "good morning"

"Will you come over here for a moment?"

She led him backstage and gestured for him to sit down on one of the hard wooden benches designed for actors waiting for their cue. Arthur waited for Sophia to talk, but she remained quiet, avoiding his gaze.

"Talk to me, Soph. I'm not going to do this for you."

Clearing her throat, perhaps a little shocked by Arthur's comment, she said, "Eleanor's brother died."

"...oh! Oh, I'm sorry. I...I didn't know. I thought..."

"I'm going to the funeral with her this afternoon. That's what I was talking to Mr. Rob about. We'll have to miss today's rehearsal and he said he would cancel the performance as well."

"I see. That's just awful. How's Eleanor?"

"She's doing well, considering the circumstances," Sophia looked pained, "she feels bad, I think. That she left."

Arthur nodded, that was a feeling he knew well.

Sophia continued, "To be truthful, I'm a little nervous."

"What about?"

"The funeral. I've only ever been to one and it was many years ago."

"Really? Who was it?"

Sophia sighed the veils of her past drawing over her eyes. Arthur almost imagined that he could see tears shining in them, but she blinked and they were gone.

"The girl who lived next door. My father thought it would be improper not to make an appearance, but he made sure I knew not to speak to anyone in case I embarrassed him. I don't remember much of it, except that there were lots of flowers and all the ladies wore large hats. It was very sombre and grand. Somehow I don't think this funeral will resemble that very much."

"No, neither do I," replied Arthur, as the memory of the last funeral he had attended pushed itself to the forefront of his mind.

"It will probably be quite busy, but in a small church, so it will feel a little too crowded. Everybody will be wearing their usual Sunday best but with a black ribbon sewed around the wrist of their clothes. The coffin will probably be simple and there won't be many flowers. Everyone will bring food for the family."

At this, he stopped, unable to go on. He tried to compose himself in silence like Sophia. But Arthur wasn't Sophia, and the tears leaked down his cheeks quicker than he could wipe them away. Sophia gently placed an arm around his shoulders.

"Oh Arthur, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned these things, I shouldn't have reminded you."

"No. No, don't be sorry. It's just... that I miss her."

"I know, I know. Of course you do."

At this point, Arthur was sobbing. He brought his hands to his face in a fruitless attempt to mask his feelings.

"They buried her with the baby you know. They were in the same coffin. The baby died a few hours before she did, but I remember she wouldn't let her go. She kept on holding her right until...the end. Father didn't say a word for days. I don't think he knew what to do with himself. I tried to be strong like him, but I just wanted to talk to my mammy..."

He broke down, as Sophia began to rock him and murmur something into his hair. Arthur couldn't decipher quite what she was saying, but it sounded comforting.

They sat this way for a very long time before Sophia glanced at her pocket watch.

"Arthur, I'm so sorry. I have to go now, I agreed to meet Eleanor in an hour and it's been an hour and a quarter already."

Arthur sniffed, and nodded. He was feeling a little better now anyway and he knew he couldn't keep Sophia any longer.

But just as she was rising to leave, she seemed to remember something and sat back down.

"Oh, there's something else."

"Yes?"

"Eleanor told me she loved me."

"......Excuse me?"

"And I told her I loved her too."

Arthur was stunned, the grief temporarily pushed to the back of his mind. It took a long time before he could say anything.

"Sophia..... are you sure you've thought this through?"

Sophia frowned a little at this, "yes. Well no, but isn't that the point of love? You don't have to think?

"I...I don't know"

"Art, I" Sophia paused and swallowed, "I need you to be on my side."

"I'm always on your side Soph. I just want to make sure this is what you want."

"Of course it is! Why are you doing this? Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"I am. I'm happy if you're happy."

Arthur took Sophia's hand and squeezed it gently as if to emphasise his point.

"Well. Alright then. I should be off. I'll probably see you this evening."

"I hope it goes well."

It was all Arthur could think to say. And just as suddenly as she appeared, Sophia was gone.