“He was the most wonderful man who ever lived, Annie,” she said. No tears pressed behind her eyelids now. She even managed a smile.
“That’s better, gel,” Annie said. “We can’t none of us weep forever. I bet old Pepe, wherever he is, couldn’t never believe the gallons I wept for him.”
“I think I’m over the worst already. As long as I have our work…”
“That’s right. Keep smiling, eh?”
Abigail slipped her arm into Annie’s. She was all warmth and reassurance.
“We’re both alone, now, Annie,” she said. “Two rich widows, who’d give it all just to…” She almost broke down again.
“Now, now. Come along then. We’re bound to be alone, love. We’re made of tougher stuff than what they are. I always thought that.”
“Annie? Come and live with me now. We’ve got so much to share. Do say yes!”
It was quite unpremeditated. But it was heartfelt. And she knew it was absolutely right. For both of them it was right.
Annie stopped dead and turned, delight and disbelief all over her face. “Straight?” she gasped.
“Straight!”
“You don’t know what you’re saying, gel.”
“I do.”
“I got a shocking temper.”
“Don’t I know it! You’ve got all your spirit. You’ll never lose that, I know.”
“What’s it to you?”
“I need it, Annie. I’m being selfish.”
“Blimey! Who’d ever have thought it’d come to this!” She looked shrewdly at Abigail. “It’ll be forever, won’t it?”
“It’ll be forever, Annie.”
“Not afraid?”
“Not afraid.”
Annie gave one vast sigh of satisfaction. Her dark eyes sparkled. “All right, gel! Give it a go, eh?”
She took Abigail’s arm and together they walked with springing steps down to the waiting carriage.
Then Annie said, “Anyway, I daresay we could all do with a good laugh now and then, me old love.”
About the Author
Malcolm Macdonald is the author of thirty novels, including the bestselling Stevenson Family Saga, Rose of Nancemellin, and Hell Hath No Fury. He was born in England in 1932, and currently lives in Ireland.
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