When Dottie moved in with Rebecca, the sisters lived as they had, sixty years ago.
It was a quiet life, and would have been empty, but the sisters filled each other, perhaps better than their husband’s had done.
They liked the same things, had the same memories.
It was over six years since Maxie, Rebecca’s husband had died. Six years since Dottie had moved in.
Every year, Dottie’s sons would visit. Rebecca’s daughter, Harriet, never could find the time, and their connection was a weekly phone call Rebecca made to her daughter. Sometimes the call wasn’t answered.
Rebecca put a happy spin on it, because it would be too painful to think otherwise.
Then, one day, there was a phone call.
She thought it was Harriet and so happy to hear from her, spoke easily. Yet something seemed a bit strange; and she realised it was Miriam. Miriam, who had just learned of her father’s death.
Miriam, the officially dead, who was calling about her father, who had died six years ago.