Table of Contents1234567891011121314151617181920212223242526272829303132333435363738394041424344454647Also by the AuthorFluxAbout the AuthorThe Dark StoneMark R Faulkner2013 Mark R Faulkner AcknowledgementsId like to say a special thank you to my wonderful partner and editor, Fay Jones. Also thanks go to Kath Middleton and Julie Stacey for the proofreading and encouragement.Original cover photograph by Nik Crabtree. 1Ma sneezed. Soup splashed over the side of the bowl she was carrying and thick silence filled the room, only to be shattered when Pas spoon slipped from his hand and rattled off the stone floor.Lillian began to cry. “Youre not going to die are you mummy?” she asked, sniffing a string of snot back into her nose.“No my love, of course not. Its probably just a cold or something, nought to worry about.” None of the family was convinced. Sam tried to fool himself into believing his mothers reassurances, but one glance at her face told him otherwise. Pa sat on his high backed chair; pale, wide eyed, and staring at his wife. Unlike him she had colour in her cheeks, but it was the slight flush of an early fever. Her hand was trembling and as she set down the bowl, more soup spilled onto the worn table-top. “For goodness sakes,” she snapped and stormed back into the kitchen to fetch the next bowl and a cloth. While she busied herself wiping soup from the table and floor, the rest of the family sat in glum silence, staring at their dinner.Sam had no appetite and slowly stirred his spoon around the inside of his bowl, occasionally lifting out chunks of vegetables before letting them slip back in with a splash.“If you dont stop doing that youll get a clip round the ear,” Ma said whilst attacking the table with the cloth.Sam just pushed his lumps of carrot around in circles instead of splashing.“Well eat up then,” said Pa. “Frettin aint going to do you no good is it? As your Ma says, its just a cold. Nothing to worry about.”Lillian, who was sitting to one side of Sam, was still sniffling and studying the slimy trails on her the back of her hand and on the other side, Louise was busy untying a knot shed twisted in her hair. He raised his head to look across the table at his father and for a moment their eyes met. Pa was more worried than anyone.The children were sent to bed early and all three trudged upstairs without complaint. Sam said a subdued goodnight to his sisters before closing his own door and climbing into bed, but he found sleep impossible. His parents voices drifted up through the floor from downstairs, too muffled to distinguish what they were saying. Every so often their conversation was punctuated by Mas sneezing and later on, when she developed a hacking cough, Sam buried his head beneath the bedclothes to blot it out.In the dark of his room and cocooned in his blanket, eyes wide open, he heard Ma and Pa climbing the stairs and going to bed. Through the wall he could hear Mas cough getting worse and the bed creaked until well into the night, letting Sam know at least one of them couldnt settle. He heard nothing from his sisters room.The next morning Pa came downstairs alone. The children asked no questions of him but could plainly hear Ma hacking away in her room. It was obvious she was ill, but she was still alive and that was the only answer they needed to know. For breakfast they each ate a lump of hard bread and washed it down with water. The silence around the table was awkward as each tried, and failed, to find the right words to begin a conversation.When they heard the familiar sound of the bell coming up the street, Sam flinched. Lillian and Louise threw their arms around each other and Pas shoulders sagged. Moments later, they heard hooves and cart wheels slowly trundling over the cobbles outside. The clang of the bell sounded louder than usual and Sam could clearly imagine the greasy man ringing it without needing to look out of the window.“Can we go see her?” he asked.Pa seemed to mull the question over for a moment before slowly nodding his head. Three chairs all scraped across the tiles at once. “Just dont get too close,” he said. Sam was already halfway up the narrow stairs. Pa rose more slowly, with effort, and followed after his children.Ma looked really ill, and the sight of her left no doubt she was suffering something more serious than a cold. Large boils festered on her swollen neck and covered her red, blotchy face while her eyes appeared as if laced with milk. Sam raced to her side and took her hand in his. It was hotter than a hand should be. A fit of coughing took her and she was forced to sit almost upright as spasms wracked her ribs. When her head lifted from the pillow, Sam noticed spots of