Harry stretched his arms above his head in an attempt to wake his aching joints. It was past noon now, and as he stepped off the train the sun shone in his eyes, momentarily blinding him.

The crisp air outside felt good after the hours spent in the stuffy train carriage. Harry stopped for a second to take a deep breath, before remembering about the people behind him. Blushing, he turned around to apologise, but Arthur just stepped out and stopped- taking a deep breath in the exact manner that Harry had.

Harry didn't quite understand why Arthur had saved him a seat on the train, but he was very glad about it. It was nice to know that someone was thinking about him, and he surprised himself by actually enjoying Arthur's company (of course, Arthur was a lovely person whom anyone could get along with, but Harry wasn't used to enjoying anyone's company).

He turned to Arthur and said, "well, I best be getting on with the bags then."

"Oh yes, of course." Arthur replied, "why don't I help you?"

Harry couldn't help being a little surprised, "that would be appreciated. If you don't mind, that is"

"Not at all, just show me what to do"

Since the task was just carrying the luggage off the train before it left the station, it didn't take Arthur long to master it. It took significantly less time than if Harry had done it alone, and he made sure to thank Arthur several times for his help.

Just as they placed the last trunks on the platform, George walked over.

"Arthur, Harry" he nodded his greetings.

"good morning George" replied Arthur with a smile.

"It's afternoon," said George

"Is it? Well there you go"

George shook his head at Arthur and said, "how did you find the journey?"

It took Harry a moment to realise that this question was directed at him, "oh, it was very pleasant, thank you."

George smiled and said, "it's lovely to be near the sea again."

The pair nodded, and as they saw Mr. Rob approaching, Arthur said "good afternoon Mr. Rob"

"Good afternoon gentlemen, come along now, I'll find a coach to take you to the inn."

***

After loading the luggage onto and off the coach, Harry felt pretty exhausted. And yet, he still had work to do. Mr. Rob wanted to check that everything with the theatre was in order for the following night's performance, and he told Harry that his presence was required.

By the time they returned to the inn, it was early evening. Mr. Rob hurried inside immediately. Presumably, he would retire to his room until the morning, as was his habit. Harry, however, stayed outside for a moment. He needed a minute of quiet after such a busy day.

Shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the rough stone wall behind him, Harry turned to face upwards. The stars were just beginning to show against the darkening blue of the sky. All around him, Harry could sense the world beginning to shift from day to night. The sun was clambering down, towards the horizon, casting long shadows as it went. Candles were beginning to flicker in windows, and a few people had already drawn their curtains. The slam of distant doors could be heard, as children ran home before dark. The muffled laughter and chinking glass of people having their dinner was in the air, and the smell of food began to waft onto the street from the inn.

Even though there were people all around him, tucking away inside their houses, or nestled in the warmth of the pub, Harry felt a thousand miles from anybody. All alone.

An abrasive sound of an opening door only a few yards away knocked Harry out of his contentment. The door crashed against the wall behind it and was then slammed shut with considerable force.

In this half-light, Harry struggled to make out the exact features of the silhouette that had stormed out of the inn in such a fiery way. It was a woman, certainly. She had initially begun to walk up the hill, away from the inn. However, after about a hundred yards, she turned back. Now, she was standing by the north edge of the inn, about ten yards away from Harry.

It was Martha, he realised. He didn't think she had noticed him standing there, and he began to shrink back into the growing shadows in an attempt to make himself invisible.

He had never spoken directly to Martha before. He had heard what the other actors said about her, and, although he was certain that it wasn't all true, he had decided it was unwise to get in her way. And now, of all times, it did not seem appropriate to change that policy.

He began to panic. What should he do? If he were to wait for her to go back inside, who knows how long he could be out here? But then again, if he revealed himself now, he would probably scare Martha and make a fool out of himself.

For now, at least, she wasn't looking in Harry's direction. She seemed too focused on what she was doing to pay much attention to her surroundings. Squinting, Harry decided that she had a matchbox in her hands. Yes, definitely a matchbox. She was trying to light one, but her hands seemed to be trembling too much.

After several minutes, she was finally successful and held the flame to the end of something which was apparently a cigarette. She then brought the cigarette to her lips and took a deep inhale.

Harry's father was a smoker. His mam wouldn't allow it at home, so he would smoke at work, on his lunch break, and on the way home. Every evening he would come back reeking of tobacco. The faint smell Harry caught now, brought the memories flooding back.

Harry noticed that Martha's shoulders had begun to shake. At first, he was puzzled, but then he realised that she was crying. To say that this surprised him would probably have been an understatement. Harry had never seen Martha behave this way before. She always seemed distant and cold, maybe uninterested. But never sad.

He wanted to comfort her, of course. But he was far too afraid of making her feel embarrassed or angry. So, Harry just stood and watched.

After another few minutes, the door opened again. This time it was gently and politely opened, barely making a sound.

The figure that crept out of the door, Harry immediately recognised as Sophia.

She stood for a moment in the doorway, before calling out, in a hushed but urgent whisper, "Martha. Martha, are you out here?"

The only response she got was a small sniff from up the hill. Sophia turned and saw the woman standing there, with hunched shoulders and a lit cigarette still between her fingers.

She didn't say anything, simply walked over and carefully wrapped one arm around her. Then a second one. The two women embraced, as Martha began to sob on Sophia's shoulder. Previously, her crying had been silent, but now she began to truly wail, gasping for breath every few seconds.

Sophia just rocked her and murmured things that Harry couldn't quite hear. They stayed this way for a long time before the sobs began to slow, and Martha's breath returned to normal.

And still, they didn't say a word. Martha got out another cigarette (the other one had been dropped in the emotion) and lit it. She held one out to Sophia, who politely shook her head.

Another ten or so minutes went by. At this point, Harry was wondering how he could leave without being noticed. He considered sneaking down the hill and then walking back up- pretending that he had been down at the beach the whole time. But he didn't want to risk being spotted walking away.

Suddenly, he noticed two people wandering up the hill. As they got closer, he could see there was a woman, slowly trudging along, holding the hand of a small child, who was quietly murmuring to a rag doll she carried.

Sophia and Martha watched these figures in silence. As they approached them, the woman nodded a silent greeting at them, a gesture which they returned. He may have been imaging it, but Harry could have sworn something unspoken passed between the three women.

After the mother and child had walked out of earshot, Harry heard Martha say, "You know, I only just managed to escape that."

"Escape what?" Sophia asked.

"Oh, you know. Motherhood. Being someone's wife, being a housekeeper, staying trapped in a tiny house in a tiny town, worrying about money without being able to say anything about it. Always being tired. Always looking after someone, always being lonely but never being alone."

Harry was a little surprised by this monologue. The description alone made him feel panicked and scared. Is this what life was for women? He thought of his mam, his sisters, aunts, nieces. Was that what their lives were about?

But Sophia didn't seem faded. She just nodded and said, "me too."

"That's why we're here I suppose," said Martha

"I suppose it is." There was a moment of silence, "what happened?"

Martha didn't answer. She just left the words to hang heavy in the air.

The quiet began to settle back over the street. By now it was fully dark, the only light coming from the stars and moon and the candles flickering behind the windows of the inn.

"I think I'll go back inside; the landlady should be serving food by now." Said Martha, breaking the silence.

"I'll be one minute." Replied Sophia.

Martha shrugged and walked back into the pub, letting the door slam shut behind her.

Harry watched as Sophia dug her hands into the pockets on her dress, leant against the wall behind her, and turned to face the stars. She sighed heavily.

Then, with a shake of her head, she followed Martha back inside.

As the door gently closed behind her, Harry began unpicking everything that had just happened. But it was too complex, too much. As his sister, Anne would have said, "deal with it in the morning Harry".

So, after a few minutes of waiting, he walked up to the door of the pub, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.

"Harry!" a voice immediately called, from across the room.

Following the sound, he walked over to Arthur, who was sitting with Sophia and George at a table in the corner of the room. Sophia was still wearing her shawl and looked a little shaken, but the others looked relaxed and happy. Harry guessed that she hadn't told them what had just happened, and he didn't think she was planning to.

"Where have you been?" asked Arthur, with his usual smile.

"I, um, went down to the beach."

"It's lovely, isn't it?" said George

"yes, quite."

"sit with us," said Arthur.

And so, Harry sat with them and listened to the conversation about food and politics and how much George loved the sea. And he watched Sophia and Martha pretend as though nothing had happened.