The summer of 1995. The skies above Battle spread a pool of pale blue, spread with grey flowing clouds in the waters. The man who disembarked the train walked into the open air, and felt as the world grew a little less heavy on his shoulders. He stood an impressive six feet three, with a full head of brown hair, less impressive when one knew he was in his mid twenties, but then that fact made other things about Marley Aislinn more so.

A Sussex University graduate with a first in Economics, and following that milestone a rising star across multiple fields of commerce in the two short years since his graduation, he already sat on multiple boards and held a great deal of potential in the eyes of his many mentors. But for all he was, Marley had one trait only those most attentive saw, a restless disquiet that led to pensive moments that he hid in those smiling business events and packed boardrooms. And on this day, he sought to tend to that side of his mind, in the only way he knew how.

Growing up, he hadn’t had much affinity for trains, being much more of a fan of flashy cars and affluent travel offers. Adulthood matured such desires from his system faster than most young men, but it wasn’t until after his university days that his love of hopping onto a train and exploring the wider Sussex countryside took off. Part of it he thought was the simple freedom of being away from those very corporate places that were so much of his life now, and to a more quaint existence. True, ‘quaint’ in such places still stung of affluence more than any semblance of soul, but Marley enjoyed hunting for the gems within such places. And it wasn’t long into his walk through Battle’s streets that he found a possible candidate.

The small café stood nestled between two charity shops, not the most prime of real estates for certain, but it had that charm that comes with non-chain outlets. The name above looked hand-painted on board in elegant calligraphy, proclaiming this to be ‘Nitley’s’. Inside, he found two people alone staffing the small venue that day. As he was among only a tiny handful of customers it wasn’t long before he received service from the waitress, a short girl with dark blonde hair and deep blue eyes seemed to linger around him, the bob of her light blue work dress catching the streaming sunlight from the window as if she were that sky itself. She asked about his work, seemed to stay at his table longer than most. He even saw her take unnecessary detours to keep talking to him.

"You're not from around here are you? What brought you here today?"

"Well, with food and service this good I'm guessing fate." he smiled at her. She beamed at him in return and went to assist the customer she was en-route to. Marley didn't mind the questions, enjoyed the attention. He set his empty cup back on his saucer.

"Would you like another cup sir?" she wound back again the long way.

"You know you don't need to call me 'sir', I'm Marley." There was a twitch in the corner of her mouth.

"Ok then Marley, would you like another cup?" She drew out his name with a glint in her eye. He couldn’t help but smile in the face of it.

"Yes please. I'll be bad and have another one of the scones too."

"Right away, Marley." She hung a few seconds longer than necessary before walking back to the kitchen. He had the feeling he was missing a key detail in the exchange. Marley struggled with reading signals in others behaviour, but noted her friendliness. He thought later how odd it was she'd not asked his name earlier. 

The experience of the café proved so pleasant, and her attentions perhaps the heart of that, that the next weekend Marley returned. Once more the girl was chatty, attentive, and in spire of more customers this time she again lavished him with her attention, receiving light chiding from the kindly old lady Marley presumed as her manager. At heart an introvert, Marley was polite but kept his cards close to his chest, but she opened up a part of him that he hadn’t realised became so locked away. When he left this time, she seemed to linger ever longer around him, and he got the impression she was waiting for something. In his obliviousness, he couldn’t figure out what.

Then, in the middle of a boardroom huddle it hit him like the train he already knew he’d take that weekend. He realised what he’d forgotten, and excused himself at once to the surprise of his fellows, though they accepted his excuse of ‘needing to do something’ at face value. As soon as he escaped the building, he ran to the station and boarded a train to Battle - in what felt like more ways than one. Gathering himself, he approached the café and entered, gazing about for her and fearful she might not be at work today. But she was, and she looked at him with surprise, but also genuine joy, not as he'd finally figured out a mere pleasant customer service approach. He approached her, and with a little embarrassment, asked the girl what he’d entirely neglected to: her name.

Less than two years later Connie and Marley married at a small chapel near Bodiam. Soon after the couple was again blessed with their one child. She was a beautiful healthy baby girl soon with long blonde hair, named for her great grandmother. To help support his growing family, the empowered Marley took another big plunge. Ditching the suit and tie, he opened his own business, a family friendly café called 'Aislinn's'.

Deep down Marley was sensitive. The highs of success and the natural bumps that go with family and work life affected him a lot more than he showed. He always opted to keep this hidden beneath the surface because he felt the need to be the anchor. This meant as the years passed and he began to start to feel, unusual, he brushed it off. If asked he put it down to tiredness from working and didn't seek any advice on the matter. Over a decade went by, all was calm and contented. Heather grew into a healthy and happy child, and mother and daughter bonded nonstop. Marley watched happy while life flourished around him as he never dreamed possible. He was a man who had the world, and needed nothing but the knowledge that his loved ones felt supported. Until it all went wrong.

"Dad?"

Marley looked out of the tall window in the lounge most of the time he spent at home. Whether lost in thought or a broken man it was hard to tell. But those eyes that turned to face his daughter even though all the pain couldn't help but light up.

"Hello sweetie, you ok?"

Heather ran over and hugged him tight.

"Easy there, still a little frail."

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah I'm better, things got a bit much again that's all."

That wasn't 'all' at all. Both knew it, and he knew his daughter knew. But his determination to internalise sincerity on his illness never changed. He did it in an attempt to protect her, but it scared her so much. With her dad in this state, few would blame her.

"You've gotten thinner."

"Well you know, I've been meaning to lose a few pounds."

"That's not funny dad." She tried to say it in a stern voice, but her relief betrayed her by bringing a weak smile to her face. She was too grateful, as she always was when he came home, to see him again. Connie watched from the door as Heather held him. She too thanked the lord he'd made it home at least one more time.

For the first evening in almost a year, the family reunited under one roof. Dinner was a simple affair, as Marley was still in not much of a state for cooking and Connie had been working all day. Had she gotten the call sooner she'd have dropped the afternoon shifts to prepare. And despite how long they had been apart since he’d last been well enough to come home, it almost felt like a regular family gathering. They seemed good-humoured, there was a lack of tension in the air. But Heather knew that this was a surface level calm. Regardless, she tried to relax and enjoy it. The excitement of the night's events was still burning below the surface, but she tried to hide them.

As she made her way to her room once more, she looked back at the table. It hurt to think, but it was all too uncanny. The scene was so close to normal, but it was off, enough to make family time eerie. That was a horrible place to be, not how she wanted to see the people she loved.

Connie was cleaning up the dishes a while afterwards when she heard steps behind her.

"Hey." She didn't look up to him, but her voice was calm.

"Can I help?"

"You should rest dear." Connie said, her voice kind, but firm.

"You're sure I can't–"

"Really, Marley, thank you. I appreciate the offer." It was pleasant, but there was a small hint of sharpness to her tone that mixed with her lack of eye contact. By now, he knew her signals.

"Connie talk to me."

Connie sighed, and let the cheap plastic brush clatter into the water. She turned to face Marley leaning on the countertop beside her.

"Nothing's up. I'm just, no it's honestly nothing. It's been a long day and I'm tired."

"I know you are. I'm–"

"Don't, don't say that. You know there's nothing to apologise for." Connie put down the plate on the drying rack, but didn’t reach for the next one.

"And we both know that that isn't true." Marley said.

"Marley stop it.” She faced him now, her face flat but not yet agitated. “You can't help being ill."

"But I still want you to be able to talk to me." Marley said, holding his ground even as he swayed in that tiny way he couldn’t help, even at his full strength.

"I know I can talk to you." The slightest crack of pain entered the words. "Believe me I know. I'm just glad you ma–glad to have you home." She winced at the slip-up. Marley didn't. He knew the emotions she would be battling.

"I'm not like that anymore. I know, I know it's never going to be the same, but it's never going to happen again either." He watched Connie let out a long breath, could hear the shudder contained within it.

"You don't know that." Came out as the faintest of words. "But it's ok, you know I understand. I love you."

Marley didn't say anything back. He could always sense when Connie was feeling tearful and felt it himself. But there was this horrible unspoken vow between them to not let it rise to the surface. Instead, he rested a hand on her back and watched her gaze into the shimmering sink water.

"I'm happy you're here Marley. We both are. We missed you."

"I missed you too. How's, Heather holding up?"

"Same as I think. We, we don't talk much nowadays."

Connie returned to the dishes at this. Marley knew she wasn't cutting him off. He recognised his wife's desire to have a focus to keep emotions in control. He could see her bare hands devoid of gloves clenching the brush, mild scolding from the hot water. He moved back to the countertop. His legs were still thin, and the lack of muscle from a long stay in the ward meant his footing wasn't as sure as it once was.

Then, concentrating, he walked to the fridge, to look at the pictures. The centre picture was their daughter many years before. Taken in a time gone by smiling away on Eastbourne beach, the pier in the background. There was a twinkle to her eye he felt a deep shame in, in his view, taking away. But tonight he thought he had seen it there. He was sure he saw a little glimmer, a bit of the old excitement and liveliness.

"She seemed well tonight?" Marley said, trying to adopt a more casual tone.

"Yeah, well she's happy to see you." Connie said, her own tone trying to match, though hers sounded a little off; he knew she was trying.

"Well, at least I can do that." Marley chuckled, a light and gentle sound from him.

Connie wiped off her hands on the towel, then turned to and hugged her husband close.

"You do more than you think."

They both stood by the sink in each other's arms, taking in each other's warmth and the safety it brought. Connie rested her head against his chest and was grateful no tears would stain his top. He knew how she felt, but she knew the guilt it caused him to see her so vulnerable. She had to stay strong for him too.

****

No sooner had her head hit the pillow that night, Tuesday dawned. It was the most restful night's sleep she had experienced in years. The lack of dreams made it the first in a long time she felt refreshed from, and the absence of the twisted new nightmares for once was a very welcome development. Heather was able to shower and prepare herself in her own time, a welcome change from the usual rush. She was going to have to detour back here to prepare for the evening later; two backpacks was too much to carry.

Most of that day paled to obscurity. Heather went into school, walked to classes. She even chatted and socialised a little which was unusual for her. She seemed happier than usual to those around her, and to those who asked why she said her dad was home. Few knew about her dad's situation and past of course, but none knew the other big reason she felt so chirpy that day. 

Elissa, if anything, appeared more upset than usual at this. She scowled when Heather caught her eye while talking to a mutual friend, and turned away to talk louder to one of her many male friends. When Heather wasn't feeling so overwhelmed she saw Elissa's behaviour for what it was. Her friend wasn't concerned why Heather might be acting differently. Instead, she pouted and dropped off-hand comments within earshot. Elissa's actions were sad, but Heather's thoughts were an astronomical level above them.

She bolted home when the final bell tolled, in itself weird for her as she made straight for Ore most days. It was also unusual, as well as welcome to not feel bogged down by lethargy in the day's closing throws. It was a refreshing change to have the energy to take in the world. She'd be heading to the station soon enough, but there was the other bag to collect first. 

The Oxford English Dictionary had seemed the most obvious place to start. As a catalogue of words and definitions, it would have made a great starting point. But even she wouldn't have been sad enough to take the dictionary to read for leisure. Following this was the Thesaurus counterpart. Atop then a spatter of novels that were littering the side of her room. She crammed an old dusty book on top that turned out to be a 3 print of Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management. She finished up with her own journal, a pink battered book with silver-edged pages and a stencil image of a flower on the cover.

In the side pockets, what followed were any other books she could see around that were small. She almost took a selection of her mother's old romance novels but decided that might not be so useful. It was best not to give him any ideas, not that he seemed like the type.

Her backpack groaned with displeasure from these offerings, close to splitting as she forced the clasp into place. Had she tried hauling this around the school all day she would have gotten some weird looks. It also, she mused, would have snapped her spine in two. Heather was glad her priorities were right, vanity coming ahead of self–preservation.

About to leave with the weight of what felt like a full university library on her back when she stopped. There sat her astronomy books. As always on top was her favourite, with its large full-colour cover burning in the glare from her window. Deciding that this topic made sense, and with protest from her spine, she added this one last book.

The walk to the station took some effort. There was a sense of instant regret in each step, cumulative with each footfall. Her hurt ankle from the previous week decided to sear after turning the corner of her street. Next time she thought to herself, maybe bring fewer books. Still, she reasoned, this should give him a lot to work with. The sun dipped below the horizon to leave its deep crimson hue woven through the night time cloud, painting streets around  Hastings with a faint red glow. It seemed to mark a path to Ore.