I home.
to the bookshop.
‘Miss inter is dead,“ I told my father.
‘And you? how are you?“ he asked.
‘Alive.“
he smiled.
‘tell me about Mum,“ I said to he way she is?“
old me. “Saken aer…”
‘My sister had died.“
‘Yes. t from o yours… I t I o lose all to every God I o save you. And my prayers . You survived. Your mother never really came back.“
to know.
‘ you tell me? About being a twin?“
turned to me ated. ory of your birt it too o bear. At least t’s for you, Margaret, if I could. I would o spare you.”
e sat in silence. I t of all tions I mig no t need to.
I reac t as he reached for mine.
I attended three funerals in as many days.
Miss inter’s mourners ion grieved for its favorite storyteller, and turned out to pay ts. I came away as soon as I could, having said my good-byes already.
t affair. tor and me to mourn to t tered.
till. In a crematorium in Banbury I tendance ity unknoo God’s t it er, “on behe Angelfield family.”
t least t signs of ts, green and freshe snow.
As I stood up I te. Snoled on his shoulders and he was carrying flowers.
‘Aurelius!“ how could he have grown so sad? So pale? ”You’ve changed,“ I said.
‘I on a o t blue as traigransparency to ed . ”All my life I ed to find my family. I ed to kno be some coration. Noaken.“
e doo and unly o me and dug eeto ther.
‘Is t . ”Is t t of my story?“
I .
‘Isn’t it lig as air. And yet…“ o ; a gesture to s finding it, do and took anote of cake.
morsel die ake me ao Mrs. Love’s o a doesn’t make sense.”
I folloral pato topped at a grave I before and laid down one was a simple one.