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.