At the grave, Laura’s anxiety is louder than the minister’s words. She hunches down, winds the pashmina round her throat. No-one likes funerals. No-one. But when one of your own has come so close to death, even being at a cemetery feels reckless, like you are tempting fate. She would have preferred to make her excuses, send flowers, a letter to Wendy—she’d even written out what she wanted to say. But in the end, well. What disrespect it would be to the memory of Aunty Jessie, this lovely woman who had been a presence in her life for so long. And to what Grunnie Meggie and Wendy’s grandmother, Aunty Clementina, had meant to each other. The two families had drifted apart over the years; even the friendship between her and Wendy had dwindled to Christmas cards and a birthday call if one of them remembered. But the bond between their grandmothers, and their mothers, too, had been like family, like blood, and it is that she is here to honour. Under the circumstances, Wendy would have understood if she’d stayed away, but she’d thought of her mother, and Grunnie, and she just couldn’t do it.

Even so, people seem to be avoiding her, trying not to stare. Or is she imagining it?

… Dust to dust.

A quintessence of dust, she thinks. The finest.

Thunder breaks on the horizon and she raises her face to look for lightning, forgetting, as always, the order of things: light before sound. A glance at the grave again. So Aunty Jessie had wanted a burial, or perhaps it’s what Wendy had wanted for her. Not so her own mother. Kathryn had always been clear about that. Cast my ashes on the sand, she’d told her. Somewhere out near South Beach. If the earth doesn’t take me home, the wind or waves will do it.

Where’s home? Laura once asked.

Where it begins, she’d said, her mouth tight. Typically cryptic Kathryn.

She’d followed her mother’s wishes, and there’d been no plaque, either.

A young woman in a burgundy blazer is walking from person to person, offering a canister of earth. Laura takes a handful, steps forward, lets the sand fall.

Goodbye, Un-ty Jessie, she whispers. Rest in peace.

The grass is spongy and the heels of her boots sink into it. When she turns, a woman is waiting for her, two open arms.

Laura …

She hugs Wendy, buries her face for a moment in the soft collar of her coat. When they pull apart, Wendy grips her hands.

Thank you for coming. Above and beyond, with everything else that’s happening. And it’s a long drive for you, from the hills. Ma would have been so touched.

I loved your mother.

You were so very precious to her. Wendy’s smile falters. And how … how is …?