“You always bring down such lovely pots of flowers for the grave,’ Nancy approved when he showed her the vibrant tub of autumn heather, and the yellow, red and purple chrysanthemums that filled the second one. ‘Will we go and put them on the grave after you’ve had a cup of tea?’ she asked eagerly. ‘If you’d like to,’ Jonathan agreed. ‘I would. Then they’d be on it for Sunday,’ his mother declared. The biscuit cake was scrumptious and he was on his second slice when the phone rang. ‘I...’ll get it. Stay where you are,’ Nancy instructed. Jonathan watched her walk to the phone on the kitchen wall, noting that she was a lot slower and stiffer than she used to be. He hated seeing his mam ageing. He knew they were so lucky to have had her with them for so long and for her to be in relative good health, but as she often said to him, only half joking, ‘I’m in the departure lounge now. I’ve had a good innings, so when my flight takes off, don’t you be wailing and bawling.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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