Never Give up Hope

As the world closed in around us, even the stars refused to shine, making night as black as black. The sun, when it could face what we had done, was watery, almost as if it were crying. And who could blame it?

From my cell, I couldn't see much but I could still observe a square of sky through the steel-barred window. The door opened, not with the usual crash, but gently. A woman entered, tall, statuesque even, dressed as everyone was nowadays in military khaki. She looked at me and I sensed her weariness. Putting a finger to her lips she approached and held out a hand to help me up. I didn't argue. She guided me gently from the cell. Other doors had been flung open and the whole place was silent. We traversed long corridors, finally exiting the rear of the prison. Again, nothing.

As I stared across the fields where ears of wheat had once danced, I spotted a small plane taxiing towards us. Five minutes later we were up in the air. The woman turned to me. "Do you remember the letter I sent you?" How could I forget? It was the only one I'd received in over a year.

"Yes," I answered. "You must be Alice. You asked what three things I would take with me to a deserted island. I wrote back. Did you get it?"

In answer, Alice pulled a large box from under her seat and pushed it across to me. I hold my breath as I open it. I remove the first item, a family portrait. Mum, Dad, us kids, another lifetime. Then my record player, battery operated, and a pile of vinyl. "That counts as one," Alice said. Finally, a dress, the one I wore on my first date with James so very long ago. A sheath of blue silk. I smile, holding the dress, letting the silk fall through my fingers, remembering how awkward we both were, how ridiculously nervous. I feel tears pricking the insides of my eyelids as I recall the last time I saw him, ripped from my arms along with our little boy, forced onto a plane while I was prostrate on ground, a large, booted foot pinning me to the ground.

I caressed my face with the soft material and looked at Alice through my tears. "Is he, are they......?"

"That's what we're heading to find out. Don't give up hope. Never give up hope." She reached into her breast pocket, withdrawing a photograph, and handed it to me. Alice and another woman in summer dresses, two little girls holding their hands. I looked at her again and saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. I reached out and took her hand. Never give up hope.