Flynn senior jumped to his feet, and straightened his shirt. “Right. Let’s go.”

“What, now?” frowned Flynn. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve sodded around for too long over the years,” replied his grandfather. “I’m not prepared to waste any more precious time.”

Flynn looked to me for a reaction and I shrugged.

“Ok, fine,” conceded Flynn. “We’ll go in my car.”

Mrs Oates hung back as the three of us made our way along the hallway and towards the front door. She eyed Flynn senior as he shrugged on his long black coat and tartan scarf. “Keep an eye on him please, won’t you? He likes to make out he’s a tough nut, but he is more vulnerable than he cares to admit.”

I patted her arm. “Of course.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The journey to Merry Wood was a charged expectant one.

Flynn senior insisted on sitting in the back seat of his grandson’s car. Every so often I would flick down the vanity mirror to check on him. He was sitting behind me, running his fingers through his floppy hair and staring out of the passenger windows with a faraway look.

“How is she?” he blurted; his eyes wide from the back seat of his grandson’s car. “How is Lily?”

“She’s good,” I replied, choosing my words carefully so as not to betray Lily’s trust. “A bit frailer on occasion.”

Flynn senior nodded and turned his attention back to the landscape sliding past out of the windows to lose himself again.

The December shadows were playing in the intermittent sun as we arrived at the picnic area.

“I always park here,” I said. “It’s just a short walk.”

“I remember,” murmured Flynn senior from the back of the car.

Flynn turned to his grandfather as he locked the driver side door. “Is this going to be a bit too far for you? Can you manage?”

Flynn senior snapped his head up to look at his grandson. “I may be knocking on a bit, but I’m not dead yet.” He started to stride on ahead. “I would walk over the blazing fires of hell for that woman.”

His words made a tiny gasp of emotion escape from the base of my throat. To have someone say that about you…

I believed him too.

We walked in an odd line, almost bumping shoulders, through the wavering grass. Birdsong from a bold little robin fizzed from amongst the trees.

The myriad of leafless branches opened out, revealing the expanse of shadowy glade. We were very close now.

Flynn senior drew up, as if processing it all in his head. Then he moved on ahead of us.

“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” whispered Flynn.

We crossed through the glade and were met by the sleepy stippled roof of Merry Wood.