Page 122 of Valour

“I’m happy to take the measure,” Rufus said, catching hold of Tom’s hands and kissing his fingers. “I’d rather you were missing toes than fingers, if you catch my meaning.”

Tom laughed, their gazes lingering.

Rufus held his cup out to Valerie, who poured a tiny splash of meths into it. “The person most likely to steal your tobacco.”

Fingers pointed to Emlyn, who rolled his eyes. “I thought that roll was mine.”

Mei glowered at him. “That’s what you always say.”

“The person most likely to hot-foot it to the church for the reading of the banns when we get home,” Emlyn said, a coy smile on his scratched face.

Charlotte laughed and pointed to Arnold along with the rest of the crew.

Above Stromness Whaling Station, South Georgia

The snow looked more and more inviting. Hester only needed a little lie down to ease the ache in her bones. Only for a moment.

The rising sun cast pink and purple streaks across the sky, silhouetting the mountains at their backs. They had trudged through the snowfield all night. Finally, a steep icy slope stood before them, Stromness close to the bottom of it.

Hester’s legs were barely holding her upright. Her lungs ached with the cold and exertion, and she couldn’t feel her fingers or toes.

Septimus shivered, shielded his eyes and looked out over the slope towards the sea. “There’s this slope, or the safer way down will take us around the bay. It’s an extra five miles.”

Hester couldn’t imagine another five miles. “I say we slide down this hill. I’m so tired I could lie down and never get up again.” The fact that she was considering it scared her more than anything.

“What if there’s a crevasse at the bottom?”

“So be it. We die up here, or we die down there. Or we make it.”

“It’s come to that?”

“It has.”

Septimus shucked off his coat and sat on it, legs wide. He patted the space before him, and Hester sat down.

“Wait. Do you hear that?” he asked.

So faint she could hardly hear it; a whistle. It could have been the wind.

Hester fumbled in her pocket, drawing out her watch. “It’s six thirty.”

His eyes lit up. “Do you understand what that was? It’s the rousing call for the whalers.”

She laughed hysterically. “There are other people—just down there. After all this time!”

“The first sound of civilisation since December 1914.”

Her aching chest almost caved in, her brows drawing together. They had been through so much. So very much to arrive here. “Pain and ache, boat journeys, marches, hunger and fatigue,” she whispered. “They all seem to belong to the limbo of forgotten things.”

Septimus laughed heartily. “We are going to make it after all. Are you ready?” He shuffled them to the edge of the icy slope.

“Wait,” she said. “I love you.” She tugged at the tether in her chest.

He tugged back. “And I love you.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Like the eagles, tumbling down from the sky.”

“Like the eagles.” He pushed them the last inches to the edge. “Hold on tight, little witch.”