‘Perfect. So Persephone would be impressed. But she doesn’t want to pay me—’

‘She’s stingy? Posh people are often stingy.’

‘Well, no, she’s skint. Because of the dispute with the son. But she gives me one free handbag in exchange for every ten I sell.’

‘Ah, not ten, Rachel! Every eight.’

‘Let’s make it seven. Six, then. And I’d always take a Chanel.’

‘I cannot believe there was a time when labels mattered to me…’

‘You’re an evolved being, Bridge—’

‘—but I’m still happy for you.’

‘Anyway, at some stage, Persephone will die and I don’t want to be sad…’

‘Maybe she wasn’t very nice? She hated the Irish? Only let you into her apartment because she thought you were Scottish?’

That made me laugh a lot. ‘Then I’d discover she’d left me all the unsold bags in her will. I’d feel a little guilty. Although I did go to her funeral—’

‘—the only person other than her chiropodist—’

‘But I’d own fifty Chanel bags and how could I be anything other than gloriously happy. Bridge, I will be fine!’

Back at the house, after a short savage downpour, the sun came out again, the whole world appearing squeaky clean.

‘Now would be a good time to ring Luke,’ Brigit said. ‘Before the next shower.’

It was eleven in the morning in Denver but Luke answered, seeming smiley and delighted. ‘Hey.’

‘I thought you might be out horse-riding,’ I said.

‘Nope. Sitting here all morning waiting for your call.’

I laughed. ‘Here’s Bridge for you.’ I passed her my iPad.

‘Luke.’ Her voice was weepy. ‘I’m so sorry about your mum. I sent a card to your brother’s address…you got it?’ Tears were flowing freely down her face. ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ she said, and now she was laughing. ‘Just an attack of nostalgia. It’s so nice to see you. You’ll always be my favourite seventies throwback.’

‘Setback,’ Luke replied.

‘Paperback.’

‘Hunchback.’

Brigit barked with laughter and replied, ‘Horseback.’

‘Niiiiiiiiice,’ Luke said.

‘You should come visit. Some weekend when Rachel’s here. We’ll have a reunion. We’re middle-aged now, that’s what middle-aged people do. Reunions. Will you come? Seriously?’

‘Brigit!’ I stood up, and took the iPad from her.

‘Sorry about that,’ I told Luke. ‘Don’t mind her.’

‘So I’m not invited?’

God, at times all of this ‘light-hearted’ banter was so draining. At times it actually made me sad. ‘Take it up with her. So? Would you like a tour of the changes here?’

‘Yeah. Great.’

Crossing the uneven, bumpy land to the converted cowhouse, I showed him around, then took him along the boundary line.

‘What about our lake?’ He asked. ‘Do you have time to go there?’

Abruptly, Kallie’s hints about her life-changing good news popped into my head and punctured any remaining positivity.