The Cliff's Edge


 
 
 
 
 
 
 Contents
 
 Cover
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Contents
 Chapter One
 Chapter Two
 Chapter Three
 Chapter Four
 Chapter Five
 Chapter Six
 Chapter Seven
 Chapter Eight
 Chapter Nine
 Chapter Ten
 Chapter Eleven
 Chapter Twelve
 Chapter Thirteen
 Chapter Fourteen
 Chapter Fifteen
 Chapter Sixteen
 Chapter Seventeen
 Chapter Eighteen
 Chapter Nineteen
 Chapter Twenty
 Chapter Twenty-One
 Chapter Twenty-Two
 About the Author
 Also by Charles Todd
 Copyright
 About the Publisher
 
 
 
 
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 Guide
 
 Cover
 Contents
 Chapter One
 
 
 
 
 Dedication
 
 
 This book is especially for Martha Teachey, a sister, aunt, and a very special person in both our lives. Through it all a
 survivor today and always.
 
 
 
 
 For Fran and Don, dear friends and family to us. Family born of caring rather than mere blood. Their kindness and dedication
 are beyond comprehension.
 
 
 
 
 For sweet little Button, who brought joy to the lives of her family. Always friendly, always happy, she had a tail wag and
 smile for everyone. Button was a member of the family for fifteen years, and they miss her every day. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter One
 
 
 Somerset, July 1919
 
 Simon brought in the post, set it on the salver in the hall, and went on through the house and out across the back garden
 to his cottage just beyond the wood. I’d watched him go from my window.
 
 
 Since we’d returned from Ireland, he’d spent most of his time there.
 
 Iris, our maid, claimed he was writing his war memoires, like all the generals were doing just now. I reminded her that he
 wasn’t a General. But, of course, Iris just shook her head and said, “There’s no rule says a Sergeant-Major can’t do the same,
 is there?”
 
 
 “Well, no,” I’d told her then. Iris always has her own interpretation about any situation. Still, I didn’t believe her, because
 most of Simon’s war, like the Colonel Sahib’s, was still officially secret.
 
 
 I was just coming down the stairs as she collected the post from the salver.
 
 “Mostly for the Colonel Sahib,” she said, looking up at me as she sorted the letters. “I’ll set it on his desk, shall I?”
 Then she stopped. “Oh, look, Miss, something for you.”
 
 
 She acted as if I never received any letters at all and this was a treat. Which warned me that it wasn’t the usual post. Now she was holding up the last envelope. “And for your mother, Miss. Shall I take it back or will you?” 
 
 “I’ll take it. I wanted to ask her about making new curtains for my bedroom.”
 
 “Oh, Miss, what about spring green? I’ve always fancied spring green,” she said. She was still holding on to my letter, as
 if reluctant to go on about her duties until she’s seen me read it.
 
 
 “I haven’t decided yet,” I said diplomatically, and held out my hand.
 
 Mine wasn’t a letter after all. It was a postal card. From Australia.
 
 No wonder she was curious!
 
 My second thought was, Had Simon seen it?
 
 Iris was pretending not to watch me as I looked at the front of the card—a drawing of a kookaburra bird—and then slowly turned
 it over.
 
 
 I knew who it was from, and why. Sergeant Lassiter . . . It read simply, Changed your mind yet?
 
 There was no signature. I didn’t need one. He’d proposed to me near the end of the war, and I’d said no, and I hadn’t seen him since then. I’d assumed—rightly, it seemed—that he’d returned with his regiment to Australia.
 
 
 Clearly disappointed that I hadn’t satisfied her curiosity about the sender, Iris handed me the letter for my mother.
 
 I was still standing there when she went on about her duties.
 
 The Sergeant and I had had a history. I hadn’t been in love with him—besides that, I was still a nursing Sister, and