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?“

        turo 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    o.

        I reac t as he reached for mine.

        I attehree 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 ao mourn to t tered.

        till. In a crematorium in Banbury I tenday 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 ged,“ 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. A…“ 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.
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