‘What you need to do is win the lottery and life will become simple.’ Callie pointed her finger at Ella. ‘You have to be in it to win it!’

‘I can’t even afford a ticket.’ Ella rolled her eyes and Callie chuckled.

‘I was in the same boat when I turned up here – not with the same amount of debt, but I was lucky Julia owned the B&B and didn’t charge me anything until I’d sorted out my finances. We all help each other whenever we can.’

‘And now we’re both in the same boat,’ added Ella with a smile, ‘the one that takes us over the river to The Lakehouse each day.’

‘And you might know the captain of that boat.’ Callie tipped her a wink.

‘Huh? What do you mean?’ asked Ella.

But Callie deflected the conversation and pointed to the balcony. ‘Listen!’

The sound of Dolores’ voice filtered up from the balcony below. She was pitch perfect and Ella couldn’t help but think that she had an amazing recording voice. Dolores was belting out the song like she didn’t have a care in the world. ‘I wish I could sing like that – I’m tone deaf,’ shared Ella.

‘I know! I remember when you attempted karaoke in the uni bar, everyone thought you were joking around until we realised you couldn’t actually sing,’ teased Callie.

Ella placed her hands on her heart, pretending to be hurt, then giggled. ‘However, Dolores really can sing. She’s a very colourful character.’ Ella admired how a woman in her nineties still oozed star appeal, glitz and glamour. She hoped she lived life to the max in her later years, just like Dolores.

Ella took another swift look over the balcony. Dolores had now sat down at the bistro table, and in front of her was the slice of Victoria sponge looking scrumptious on a china plate. McCartney was stretched out by her feet, most probably still with a full belly after stumbling across the bag of sausages. Dolores was tilting her head from side to side and talking to Fred like she was expecting him to answer. Fred hopped on to the swing and suddenly began chirping.

‘She’s like a bird whisperer,’ claimed Ella.

They admired how Dolores was dressed to impress. Her top was a multitude of bright colours worn with a pair of leggings, accompanied by a large buckled belt pulled in tight to reveal her tiny waist. On top of her long blonde curls rested a pair of oversized black sunglasses and on her feet she still wore her kitten slippers. There was no doubt Dolores was still living her best life.

‘I wouldn’t say Hamish takes after his mother,’ said Ella, making an observation.

‘Not in his dress sense, but he’s also very much down to earth, kind and considerate.’