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making blasted nuisances of themselves the way they usually do.’
    ‘It would make a change from being frightful nuisances,’ Rowzee commented lightly.
    ‘Ha ha, very funny. Where are your shoes?’
    Blinking, Rowzee looked around. ‘I’m not sure, why?’
    ‘I just wondered. What’s happened to your toe?’
    Rowzee looked down. ‘You mean the black mark on my little toenail? It’s from where you trod on it.’
    Pamela eyed her in amazement
    Rowzee grinned. ‘It’s always been there,’ she reminded her. ‘You just haven’t seen my nails without polish for a while.’
    ‘Which reminds me, if you’ve still got some of that Blueberry Pink I’ll borrow it if I may.’
    ‘You may. Apparently Blake Leonard can make the party, isn’t that lovely?’
    Pamela frowned. ‘It’s good for him to get out,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t know if it’ll help take his mind off things, but it has to be better than staying at home tearing himself to pieces. Is Jenny coming with him?’
    ‘I believe she’s away in Devon with her parents.’
    ‘She’s always away – and often with the fairies, if you get my meaning. What shall we do if he starts going on about his daughter? I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, in his shoes I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else, but it’ll be a bit of a downer on the . . .’
    ‘I’m sure he won’t, but even if he does, it’s our job to be sympathetic and supportive, not to treat him, like some people do, as if he’s in some way to blame for what’s happened.’
    Pamela’s eyebrows rose. ‘I’ve never done such a thing,’ she retorted.
    ‘I’m not saying you have.’
    Pamela eyed her meaningfully. ‘For all you know he is to blame.’
    ‘Pamela . . .’
    ‘I’m just saying, that’s all.’
    ‘But it’s not what you think, so stop pretending you’re a cold-hearted, ungenerous old bag and take a copy of the guest list with you when you go. If I’ve missed anyone out send me a text.’
    Minutes after Pamela drove off she rang. ‘I thought you were going out today,’ she declared.
    ‘I was, but things changed.’
    ‘Where were you supposed to be going?’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘What do you mean, why? Is it a secret?’
    Rowzee laughed, for they’d had this very conversation the night before last when she’d tried to find out where Pamela was going. She never had got an answer, come to think of it. ‘I had a meeting in town, but it got cancelled,’ she lied, although it was sort of true, she decided.
    ‘So you could help Graeme at the shop?’
    Rowzee froze. She’d completely forgotten that their brother had asked if one of them could stand in for him today. The things she was forgetting lately, maybe Alzheimer’s really was catching up with her. ‘I’ll call him right away,’ she stated, and ending the call she scrolled straight to her brother’s number.
    The line was busy, but he rang back a few minutes later to assure her that he had everything covered.
    Ten minutes later Rowzee was at her desk answering the emails she regularly received from ex-students updating her on what they were doing these days, or telling her about something that had reminded them of her, or, more often than not, showing her photographs of new babies as they came into the world.
    She enjoyed them all and was meticulous about replying to each one, as well as careful in the way she declined the honour of becoming a godparent. There weren’t so many of these requests, but they happened from time to time, and she was always touched, but firm with herself about not giving in. She really didn’t need any more children in her life. She had plenty with Pamela’s daughters, Graeme’s two sons, and the great-nieces and nephew that had already started to swell the family numbers.
    It was wonderful to be a part of the joy that came with a new life, especially in her own family, whom she loved above all else in the world. Her only sadness, which ran deeper than she could ever express,