To be honest, it was a bit disappointing how easily life went on after the conversation where Blake and I laid all our cards on the table. He still came over to help me prep the gardens and build up the back corner of my field that sloped down toward the brook just off the back end of my property.

There wasn’t a chorus of angels every time our eyes met, nor were either of us trying to make cunning maneuvers to accidentally touch or brush against each other while we worked together.

I supposed I should be thankful for the good fortune of having a man around who was true to his word and didn’t try to formulate ways to pay me back for making him wait.

Not that Bob did stuff like that either, but I’ve been reading far too many trashy romances where the misunderstanding at the end could be easily cleared up by a simple conversation. I’m glad we’d been able to take the conversation solution.

“Do you want a cup of fairly weak tea?” I asked him as he toed off his boots by the door at the other end of the hallway. “It’s a delicious blend but I find if I make it regular strength, it seems to catch at the back of my throat and make me want to cough.”

Blake chuckled. “After that curious description, how can I refuse?”

“My brother got it for me from his last trip. I don’t know why I react to it that way. It’s almost like it triggers my gag reflex.”

“You could have a sensitivity or be allergic to some of the leaves.” He said as he came toward the kitchen. “I get that way if I’ve had too many scallops. Eventually my body just says, nope. No more.”

“Allergic to scallops? You poor thing.” We’re in the heart of shellfish country.”

“Yup” He agreed. “I limit my intake so I can live to feast on them another day.”

“There is nothing worse than a conflict between your tastebuds and allergies. Bob used to love crab. Then one day, out of the blue, he broke out in hives as we were sharing a potful at a restaurant out west. We thought maybe he’d had a bad one until the hives came back the next time he ate some here. He was so upset that he couldn’t eat one of his favorite treats anymore.”

“That’s why I stop as son as I get that feeling at the back of my throat. The doctor thinks I’m just at the edge of reacting to shellfish, so I limit my intake trying to stretch out the time before I can’t safely eat them anymore.” He shrugged, “In the meantime, I have an epi-pen to take with me when I know it’s on the menu, just in case.”

Ude’s Contribution

“We have to formulate a plan” Jude was in the hallway. The only safe place away from Mum’s sharp ears.

“That’s a bit formal” Nene laughed. “Formulate a plan”

“Let’s see what cunning plan we can formulate”. Nene was enjoying herself. Mella and Elem exchanged looks.

“Formulate a cunning plan” Their voices joined in unison, like a chorus to a song. Tia raised both arms to the ceiling. “

Look this is a serious matter. Our sister has been found dead in her flat and you haven’t had the balls to tell her Jude”

“Don’t be so rude Tia. It’s not like you made an effort. It’s not easy” Elem was on the defensive.

“There’s a fortune in manuscripts in that flat of hers. She never did like us”.

“What are you insinuating Tia?” Tom’s voice was direct and cold.

“Family business stays with the family. That’s what I’m saying. That journal you took out of her bag doesn’t belong to you”

Tom reached into the deep pocket of his loose jeans. She always teased him about these trousers and his antiquated, not up to date, fashion sense.

He opened the pink velvet covered A5 booklet to the first page. Her writing, in black ink flowed out of the page.

“For you Tom. My dearest friend. I love you dearly”

Mum suddenly appeared in the hallway. She carried a white mug.

“Here you are Tom” A silky trace of milk could be seen floating on the top of brown liquid.

It was a fairly weak tea.

“I know you English like your tea “she said laughing.

“Now what is it you are all whispering about? And where is Chinee?”

So they had all gone to Mum’s place. Poor old Tom forced to go too and squeeze some bodies into his car. I could imagine the scenario. Jude taking the baton and trying hard to say what he thought had to be said but failing of course Mella and Tia keeping a low profile but chipping in when directed to, by Nene’s stare and single nod. And Tom. What would be going through his mind right now.

The first page of the journal, those words. I meant every word I said. It was annoying I hadn’t told him how I felt when I was alive but c’est la vie!

“So, Mum. What I’m trying to tell you. Let’s all sit down in the front room. It’s too crowded here. We can’t all just be standing in this narrow corridor”

“Yes dear” agreed Mum. “Let’s sit in the front room. It’s so cold in this corridor. I keep telling these people to look at the heating. I don’t know how to make this place warmer. I’m not sure how to use the thermostat. Jude, can you fix this heating when we’ve finished talking please”

“Yes Mum. Anyway, as I was saying..”