Westgate street is deserted, Eliza waits for Jasper as the driver lights a lamp for them. The houses the line the street have no lights on, they look like ghost houses the way the loom above you, a tall dark mass of brick and glass. Jasper carries the lamp in one hand, it lights a few feet ahead, he hands the white lilies to her and he pushes the gates open. The rusty cemetery gates creak as they swing open, the wind whistles through them as they walk down the winding path toward the lines of graves. Eliza slips on the wet ground but Jasper catches her arm before she topples over.

"Thank you." She whispers, her breath coming out in a steamy cloud. He nods his head but his body becomes very still as he catches sight of a large grave to the west of the ground. He lets go of her and walks towards the grave slowly. He arrives at the grave and stands there, he stares at the engraving and doesn't move a muscle. Eliza hesitates before following him, her heels stick in the wet mud but she eventually struggles to his side. His face is a stony as the shiny marble stone reads:

Duke Phillip Simon Harrington

God rest his soul

1723- 1789

Eliza slips her arm through his, he starts but doesn't pull away, he simply stares at the grave unblinking. She takes a lily from the bunch she is holding and holds it in front of his face, his eyes drop to it. He doesn't take it for several moments but when he does, he throws it and it lands in front of the grave.

"I'll give you a moment." Eliza murmers, she walks away from his father's grave. In the dark she is careful as she weaves between graves until she finds the path that leads to the other side of the graveyard, she follows the tiles down until she recognises the oak tree with the left crooked branch, she hurries over to it, in the dark it proves to be much more difficult than as a child at a funeral. She stops by the tree and turns to the right. She sees the outline of two graves, tucked in the corner, away from prying eyes. She walks over to them, her heart being to ache. Two identical white marble graves are illuminated by street lamps. The orange glow casts a golden shadow on the names so she crouches down to see them better.

Samuel Robert Turner Eloise Anne Turner

Quod autem ex veritate Christi crux est mea lux

1748-1790 1778-1790

A tear falls down her cheek and hits the mossy grass, time and the elements have worn the graves down but the once disturbed earth has become covered with grass and in the summer flowers must have covered the graves in bright carnival colours.

She takes the remaining lines, she splits them in half and lies them on each grave. It may have been a few years ago but Eliza can still clearly picture the two funerals, how they lowered both coffins into to the ground and how small her sister's was. She hears a crunching behind her and she spins around but it is only Jasper, he walks over to her. She stands up and leans against Jasper's solid frame, her tears fall faster and faster but ever so silent.

"Was it a mistake to come here?" He asks quietly.

"A mistake?" Eliza sniffs and looks up at him.

"You're crying," he says sweeping a tear away from her eye.

"I know." She chokes up a little, "But that's alright, it's okay to be sad sometimes."

"What does it mean?" Jasper asking pointing at the latin on her father's grave.

"Oh." Eliza clears her sobs from her throat, "That, however, is of the truth. It means the truth will out."

Jasper considers the phrase, "And your sister's?"

"The cross of Christ is my light."

Jasper wraps an arm around her and kisses the top of her head, she closes her eyes at the contact. She opens her eyes when she feels something cool on her cheek, her fingers touch her face and come away wet. She looks up and the sky is full of swirling white snowflakes.

"It's snowing." She gasps, she holds her hand out and the flecks of white land and melt on her flushed skin.

"So it is," Jasper says looking up at the mass of white circling in the night.

"Indeed, It's going to be a snowy Christmas." Eliza leans her head on his chest. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"You're welcome." He replies.

The snow flutters down from the sky, it creates a blanket on the peaceful people sleeping under the ground. The couple stand in the cemetery, holding hands, they stand amidst the graves, two living souls between the resting ones. Winter is falling down upon London this night, children run outside in excitement, they forget their hats and scarfs, they build snowmen and create snow angels. Dogs bark at the white flakes, people poke their heads out of windows and doors to watch as every bar, shop, brothel, and house becomes a scene from a Christmas card. People watch the sparkling snowflakes from their frosted up windows, rich and poor alike marvel as everything is completed with a thin layer of snow. As the snow encases this busy bustling city in a frosty cover the couple stand, together, hands and hearts entwined.