was a place of beauty and serenity where she would eventually reunite with all those she loved who had gone before. As she strode briskly along the path, with the horizon emerging out of the night in a blaze of reds and golds, she was certain that God was behind the magic, for no earthly creature could touch her heart like He did. She basked in the splendour of the Divine.
And then she fell.
She wasn’t aware of how it happened, not even after it had happened as she lay face down in the grass with her cheek-bone throbbing and a pain shooting through her left shoulder. Never before had she had such a sense of being aground, of being utterly in her body, just at the point when her spirit was being carried off into the sky. She lay there blinking, her pride wounded as much as her body, tears stinging her eyes and merging with the blood now seeping from her face. Her euphoria had been cruelly snatched away and in its place was despair.
She remained inert on the grass, trying to turn her mind back to the fateful moment. If she had tripped, what had she tripped on? Or had her legs simply given way all on their own, unprovoked? She didn’t want to move. She wanted to lie there a while and gather her thoughts. She could feel the wet soaking into her trousers. Then she began to tremble with cold.
Suddenly a furry face prodded hers and a warm, slimy tongue licked her cheek. A moment later Mary Hanson’s worried voice. ‘Marigold? Is that you? Are you all right? Bernie, come away. Bernie!’
Marigold knew she had to get up or Mary’s account of finding her lying inert in the grass might worry Dennis unnecessarily. She allowed Mary to take her arm and help her to her feet. She stood a little unsteadily as the blood rushed from her head, making her swoon. ‘Goodness,’ she mumbled, forcing a smile. ‘I must have tripped. I was going at quite a pace.’
Mary’s face was crinkled with concern beneath her plum-pudding hat. She looked Marigold over with a searching gaze. ‘You’ve got an awful cut to your face, Marigold.’ She put a hand in her pocket and pulled out a scrunched-up tissue. She dabbed at the blood. ‘Poor old you,’ she said kindly. ‘It’s a nasty cut. Can you walk, do you think?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Marigold in a hearty voice that she hoped would convince Mary that nothing was wrong. ‘I’m fine, really.’
‘Then Bernie and I will accompany you home. Come on, we’ll go at a gentle pace.’
Marigold examined the ground for the thing that had tripped her up, but there was nothing obvious. ‘That’ll teach me to drag my feet,’ she said.
When they reached the village, she thanked Mary. ‘You’re very kind to have accompanied me home. I’m fine now. I’ll pop in and clean up before I open the shop.’
‘Are you up to opening the shop today? Perhaps you should rest a little. You’ve had an awful shock. Look, you’re shaking. Tasha can cope on her own, can’t she?’ Then Mary grinned. ‘I mean, it’s about time she took some responsibility, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘Thanks, Mary. I’m sure I’ll be all right. I’ll have a cup of tea. Everything’s better with a cup of tea.’
Mary laughed. ‘You’re so right, Marigold. You go and put the kettle on. And call me if I can do anything. I’ll happily help in the shop, if Bernie can come too.’
Marigold hoped she’d be able to nip up to her bathroom to clean her face before anyone saw her. But as she went into the hall Nan was coming down the stairs. ‘I had the strangest dream last night,’ she said. ‘Dad was alive and telling me to look after you. Isn’t that strange? He did have a soft spot for you, though, didn’t he? People do say that daughters are closer to their fathers and sons are closer to their mums.’ She sighed as she reached the bottom. ‘Though, I can’t say your brother pays me much attention . . .’ Her eyes settled on Marigold’s face. ‘Good God, Marigold! What have you done to yourself?’
‘I tripped on the path.’
‘Well, your father was right, then, wasn’t he! Come into the kitchen so I can have a look at you.’
A moment later she was sitting at the table being observed by her mother as if she were a child again. ‘That’s a