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give the cottage to
Violet. And she also said that Nan wasn’t to worry about Susan because she wasn’t destined to be lonely and unloved. Nan didn’t disclose that, though, because talk like that would
have worried her family. Or had them ringing for the men in white coats.
    ‘Your mother doesn’t half get dressed up to go to her book club,’ said Nan playfully. ‘I reckon there’s a fella there she fancies.’
    ‘Mum? Give over.’
    ‘I bet you anything there is,’ said Nan.
    ‘That would be nice, wouldn’t it?’ said Violet. ‘I wish Mum would meet someone.’
    ‘Yes, I do.’ Nan sighed. She worried that if there was someone on the scene, Susan would feel too disloyal to the memory of Jeff to let it develop, and that would be such a shame.
Susan deserved to be loved and looked after, so Nan really hoped the angel was right. She studied the key sitting in Violet’s hand.
    ‘That cottage is yours whatever,’ she said.
    ‘What do you mean, “whatever”?’ asked Violet.
    ‘It’s not a wedding present. It’s for you because I want to give it to you. YOU . It’s yours and you can do whatever you want with it. You can move into it, rent it
out or sell it and buy somewhere else. It’s legally yours to do with as you will. I did all the signing and sealing with the solicitor when I was “of sound mind”, as they
say.’
    ‘Oh don’t joke,’ said Violet. Her world felt as if it was turning on its head. Her mum and Nan were constants and she never wanted them to change or grow old or ill, but she
knew she was helpless to stop that. ‘And of course I wouldn’t sell it. I’ll live in it.’
    ‘Well, you might for a bit, but it won’t be big enough if you have children.’
    A picture of Glyn and her living in the cottage with children flashed across her mind. Except they weren’t really children; they were mini versions of him with his head on their flabby
little bodies.
    ‘Just you remember something for me,’ said Nan. ‘If you’re unhappy, you’ll kill me quicker than anything happening in my brain.’
    Violet fell against her nan’s fragile shoulder and the old lady put her arm round her. She smelled of a lovely old nameless scent with a hint of face powder: warm and safe.
    ‘There’s nothing better than a good marriage,’ said Nan. The warmth of the memory with her life’s love was suddenly chilled by the thought of her first husband, whom she
married at seventeen and divorced aged twenty-one. No one in the family knew about him. No one need know how many cuts and bruises she sustained at his hands, and the baby he made her miscarry.
‘And there’s nothing worse than a bad marriage,’ Nan went on. She looked hard at her granddaughter. ‘If you have any doubts in your head at all, don’t put that ring on
your finger.’ She touched her own wedding ring. It had worn thin over the years but still she could recall the feeling when Grandad Jack slid it on to her finger and whispered to her,
‘You’re mine now and you’ll stay mine.’ It brought a delicious thrill to her heart.
    ‘Your grandad used to drive me insane burning holes in everything with his bloody pipe, but it’ll be nice to see him again,’ smiled Nan.
    ‘Do you really believe in heaven, Nan?’ asked Violet, gulping down the tears that were rising to her eyes.
    ‘Course I do,’ said Nan with a wink. ‘Where do you think that angel came from last night?’

Chapter 8
    Bel had just unlocked her front door when the phone rang.
    ‘Er, Miss Candy, this is Pip from For Goodness Cake.’ Bel raised her eyebrows at the ridiculous name of the shop every time she heard it. ‘Er,’ carried on the terribly
puzzled female voice on the end of the line, ‘I’ve received your email about the alteration to your wedding cake design. And I just wanted to check that I’ve got this
right.’ Then she read out word for word what Bel’s email had said.
    ‘That’s it. That’s exactly what I want,’ said