‘Surely we were meant to get off there,’ she said, as I sped onwards.

‘Do you want to be right, or do you want to be happy?’

She threw back her head and laughed out loud.

‘I want to be happy.’

EPILOGUE

SIX WEEKS LATER, Marina was back in Fryslân and Saskia and I were there with her.

She had been back and forth several times to assist her mother, each visit causing her much stress and grief. Meanwhile, Saskia had stayed at home with me to go back to school for the summer term.

It had been the morning before Marina had been due to come home for Sassy’s half-term holiday that she had called me to say that the inevitable had finally occurred, that her father’s ailing heart had finally beat its last, and he had died peacefully in his sleep.

She had been quite calm about it.

‘I know it’s very sad,’ she said. ‘But I have been hoping for weeks now that, one day, he simply wouldn’t wake up, and now that has happened. Mamma has been sleeping in the spare room and she went in to him at eight o’clock with some tea, but he’d already gone.’

‘How is she taking it?’ I asked.

‘Pretty well, I think. Over the weeks, we have all got used to the fact that he would go sometime soon. Him too. He told me yesterday that he’d had enough and was tired. Mamma’s been keeping herself busy since she found him, putting up white sheets over all the windows. It’s a custom round here to ward off evil spirits.’

‘I’ll book a flight over for Sassy and me.’

‘Do you think it’s wise to bring Saskia? She could go to stay with Charles. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.’

‘I think she should come with me. It’s going to be difficult for her either way, but she needs to be with us at a time like this.’

So I had booked two seats on the British Airways flight from Heathrow to Amsterdam for later that afternoon.

Charles had stepped up to the plate and had called, offering to look after Rosie while we were away.

‘It might be for quite a few days,’ I said to him. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure,’ he said. ‘I’ve arranged for my neighbour’s son to take her for a long walk every day to try and tire her out.’

So Saskia and I had driven to Heathrow via Aynsford to deliver Rosie and her bed, along with enough of her food for a whole week. Charles had given Sassy a big hug and said how sorry he was that Opa had died.

‘He isn’t dead, Grandpa. He’s just gone to heaven. Like Tilly.’

The flight had been uneventful and I had booked a rental car at Schiphol.