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‘I see you and have to double-take sometimes,’ the old lady went on. ‘It’s just as if our Lilian has walked into the room again.’ Florence Sibley wiped away a tear. ‘Grieving is a process. We have to do it properly, take the time, or we will never settle in our souls. It’s been a long time now, andI have processed it – something I’m afraid your mother never did. I tried to encourage her, but she refused to take the help she was offered. Just stayed in that caravan on her own seeing and doing God only knows what. Me and your uncle tried to be there for her, but she was in her own little world up there on the Head.’

‘She still is,’ Star replied. ‘That’s so interesting about grief and getting it out. A bit like me being at school and someone telling me that if I didn’t cry about something sad it would go back inside and drown me.’ Star let out a tinkly laugh. ‘How weird. I never understood that until now.’

‘So true. That’s why I’m glad that you still feel you can come and talk to your old auntie. Your mum did right by sending you our way, at least. And nothing fazes me. Nothing at all. You know that.’

‘You don’t even have to say it out loud.’ They both sat looking at the fire for a while before Star broke the comfortable silence, letting all her worries flow out in a sudden stream of words.

‘I’m frightened that Skye will leave home and not come back to me. I’ve met a man and he seems really lovely, but you know Jack who I told you about? I still have feelings for him, and I don’t know if they are real or whether I’ve built him up into something that I shouldn’t have because I’d had no one to love for such a long time.’

‘Slow down, my dear. That’s a lot going on in that pretty head of yours. Let’s break it down into bite-size chunks, shall we? I mean, you wouldn’t try and eat an elephant in one go, now would you?’

‘Pretty boy,’ Boris squawked.

Florence tutted at the budgie’s antics, then carried on. ‘It’s obvious that Skye adores you. You have created afoundation of love, trust and respect with that child. Yes, she’s going to find her own way in life, but that umbilical cord between mother and child will never be broken. Wherever she is, your hearts will be forever joined, and you will always be with her and she you.’

Star felt a lump forming in her throat as her wise auntie continued. ‘And as for your affairs of the heart, only you can be the judge of your feelings. That Jack had a girlfriend, didn’t he?’ Star nodded. ‘I can’t condone that, but it happened, and your feelings are your feelings. And sometimes they need all kinds of managing.’

Star shifted slightly in her seat. So strong was the urge to make love to him, she hadn’t even cared that he had a girlfriend.

‘You spoke about another man?’ Florrie Sibley never missed a trick.

‘Yeah. Big Frank Brady’s nephew is staying in Hartmouth for a bit. He seems genuinely nice. We went for a drink and he wants to see me again.’

‘Me and my Jim used to go to the pub a lot when we were courting. I used to have a Babycham and he would have a pale ale. We both used to smoke like bloody chimneys in the sixties.’

‘Well, I never would have thought that!’ Star laughed. ‘You’re a dark horse, you are.’

‘The Good Lord looked after us. Well, our lungs anyway.’ It was Florrie’s turn to laugh, then her face dropped. ‘He was such a good man, your Uncle Jim.’

‘I know,’ Star said. ‘He really was.’

Florrie’s face then lit up again at memories of her beloved husband. ‘“If I make it to three score years and fifteen, I’ll be happy,” he would say, and he did. Died to the day onhis seventy-fifth birthday. All his affairs were in order. He even gave me a bigger kiss than usual in the morning before he went down to sort the paper orders. Had told me to stay in bed for an extra cup of tea. I reckon he knew.’ She became brisk. ‘Anyway, he wouldn’t want us to dwell on it, this life is for living. What’s this new chap’s name?’

‘Conor. His name is Conor, and I do like him, Auntie.’

‘Well, that’s a good start. Is this one single?’

‘Yes.’ Star smiled. ‘And Irish.’

‘Oof, he’ll be giving you all the blarney then. Sexy too, I bet?’

‘Auntie!’

‘Not everyone will abandon you, Star. And if you don’t give anyone a chance, well, what a sorry life that would be.’

‘Where did that come from? I don’t remember Mum abandoning me, if that’s what you meant.’

‘Physically she didn’t, no.’

A quiet ‘Oh’ was all Star could muster.

There was a short silence, the only sound the ticking clock on the mantelpiece – a present for Jim from Flo when they had reached forty years of working at the newsagent together. She had joked that as she had always been the boss, it was up to her to buy it for him as there was no one else who would.

‘What would be good for you to understand though, Star, is that there is a strong contrast between love and fear. I know you don’t always agree with my Bible bashings, but the Apostle John said, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love.”’

‘How do you remember all these verses? And what does it all mean in heathen terms, exactly?’ Star asked, feeling a warm rush of love for the old woman in front of her.

‘The Apostle John is saying that it is impossible for love and fear to harmoniously co-exist. When real love hits, there will be no fear. When I met my Jim, it was as if nothing else mattered anymore. I justknew. In fact, I would have taken a bullet for him and him for me. And even when he was unable to give me children, it was still OK. We had Estelle, you and our Skye to fill that void. How blessed were we.’ She looked right into her niece’s eyes. ‘Don’t be afraid to jump in. Let love win. It usually does.’

Star got up and went to stand behind her auntie, putting her arms around her and nuzzling into the back of her hair as she used to do when growing up. ‘I am so lucky to have you in my life.’

‘Come on, that’s enough of all these maudlin meanderings. Let’s get our chippy tea in us, shall we? I might even get you to say grace.’

‘Grace.’ Star laughed loudly as her auntie heaved herself up, harrumphing and trumping at the same time.

‘Pardon me!’ Boris shouted from under his cover.