Epilogue
It’s October when winds are up, tides are high, and calendars signal a fast-approaching All Hallows’ Eve, when witches are abroad, riding the night skies.
At the top of Spike and Polly’s new house are two attic rooms.
Polly stands at the window of the one she calls the Spy’s Nest, as it’s where Spike has rigged up a telescope right next to Cap’n Jack, who stares permanently towards the docks.
Outside the window there is a small balcony where two chairs can just fit, side by side and, on nights when there’s not a cloud in the sky, Polly and Spike like to sit together, drink wine and gaze at the stars, as so many star-crossed lovers have over the years, centuries, millennia.
They chat, kiss and look up to the heavens.
Sometimes they take a blanket and make love out there in a quiet awestruck way, knowing that they have come home.
She’ll go down in a minute.
Spike is below with their baby, Sonny, whose crying threatens to wake Rowan.
Polly takes a moment to stand and stare into the night; a sudden gust whips her hair, and she can taste the salt on the wind’s breath.