The man ushered them into a quaint sitting room filled with vintage furniture and family photos hanging on the walls. A faint smell of wood smoke lingered in the air.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the worn armchairs. “I’m Derek, by the way. What brings you to our little village?”

Madeleine took a deep breath, her heart racing. “We’re looking for someone called Thomas” she said hesitantly. “His last known address was here, this house on Willow Lane.”

Derek's expression shifted, and a shadow of sorrow crossed his kind features. “The Mathews, lived here before me, from what I’ve been told,  But they passed away years ago.”

Madeleine felt her heart sink. “Oh,” she whispered, the weight of disappointment pressing heavily on her chest. “I was hoping to find them.”

Derek nodded, his voice gentle. “I think they’re buried just down the road at the churchyard. You could visit their grave, if you wish?”

Madeleine exchanged a glance with her mother, who offered a reassuring nod. “Yes, we’d like that very much,” she said softly.

The elderly man stood, and they followed him outside, the crisp air brushing against Madeleine's cheeks as they made their way down the cobblestone path. The village was picturesque, with quaint cottages and blooming gardens lining the streets. Madeleine felt a strange sense of connection to this place, as if the very ground they walked on held echoes of the past.

When they arrived at the churchyard, the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the gravestones. Madeleine’s heart raced as they walked among the rows of weathered stones, each one a testament to a life once lived. Finally, Derek stopped in front of a large headstone.

“Here lies Margaret Mathews,died 1970” he read, his voice reverent.

Madeleine felt a lump form in her throat as she knelt before the grave, etched into the stone beside it was the words “ Beloved wife, of Private Thomas Mathews died 1944.”  She traced the letters with trembling fingers and felt a deep sorrow. 

“Madeleine , do you think he remembered me?” Lucy’s voice echoed in her mind, and Madeleine closed her eyes, wishing for a moment that she could bridge the gap between the living and the dead.

“Thomas,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “I wish I could have known you. I wish I could have told you about your sister.”

Her mother knelt beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Madeleine took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. “ I can tell Lucy that he was loved, that he had a wife that cared about him.”

As she stood, a breeze rustled through the trees, sending leaves swirling around them. For a fleeting moment, Madeleine felt a warmth envelop her, as if Thomas’s spirit was acknowledging her presence.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Madeleine said, turning to Derek. “It means so much to us.”

Derek nodded, his expression softening. “You’re welcome, child”, he softly said.

As they walked back to Derek’s home, Madeleine felt a sense of closure, not just for herself but for Lucy as well. 

Back at Derek’s house, they shared tea and biscuits, when it was time to leave, Madeleine thanked Derek once more. “You’ve helped us more than you know.”

As they stepped outside, the sky was painted with hues of orange and pink, the sun setting behind the hills. Madeleine glanced back at the churchyard, a sense of peace settling over her. She knew that she had fulfilled a part of her promise to Lucy—that she would help her find her brother.

“Let’s go home,” Madeleine said softly, her mother wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they walked back to the car. 

As they drove away, Madeleine couldn’t shake the feeling that the whispers of the past had become a thread connecting them all.