And then, when he did, the fear crept back in.
Outside, the wind was howling. The wind always seemed to howl at night in Bytown, as if to remind people what kind of hell they were living in.
He suddenly had to know. To feel reassured again.
He got out of bed, creeping out into the hall, and then across to the womens’ guest room. Pressing a hand to the wood to control its motion precisely, he turned the handle and opened it gently. It was hard to see in the dark, but he could make out Béatrice’s face in what dim moonlight filtered in through the window. She was snoring soundly, but still so lovely despite it all.
And in the other bed, further in, was…
Émile’s heart started to race. He rushed into the room, feeling the second bed up and down until he was sure no one was there.
He rushed back to his room, snatched up his things, throwing on his coat as he raced down the stairs at full speed. He was halfway through fastening his boots when Ada appeared at the entrance to the parlour, wrapped in a shawl.