and Nora. This would have been such a happy time for them.’
‘Yes,’ said Bee quietly. She looked out of the window and
remembered the day it had happened. Waiting for her brother
and his wife to return from their trip to Europe; the excited
children at an upstairs window watching for their parents’ car.
without thinking what she was doing, Bee had turned on the
radio to hear the news. And then she had heard the words which
her head at first refused to believe:
The two o’clock plane from Paris crashed this afternoon.
Everyone on the plane was killed.
‘Bill and Nora loved the children so much,’ Nancy said.
‘They would have been so happy for Simon’s twenty-first
Birthday.’
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about Patrick, too,’ said Bee sadly.
‘Patrick?’ Nancy sounded surprised. ‘Oh yes, of course.
Poor Patrick!’
Bee looked at her friend curiously.
‘You had almost forgotten, hadn’t you?’
‘Well, it’s a long time ago, Bee. Patrick’s death is something
everyone tries to forget. I can’t really remember what he looked
like any more. Was he as like Simon as Ruth is like Jane?’