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“Do you not have any? Of your mum, even?”
“I have some. Honestly, I was a bratty teenager who hated everything and everyone around her after my mum died. I despised having to play happy families with my dad and Carmen and pretend like I was best friends with my kid brother,” I admitted, crossing my arms over my chest as we walked. “When I left for university, Dad gave me a small shoebox filled with some photos he thought I’d want, but I didn’t look through them all. They were family photos, and I was still too angry about everything.”
“That’s understandable. What if I told you I have some of your mum?”
“You have photos of her?”
“From your birthday party at least. At least I assume it’s your party. It was at Loxford House, and Freya thinks that’s about right. It’s pretty sunny and everyone is in summer clothes.”
“My birthday is in July.”
“Then it fits.” He smiled at me, and his blue eyes were full of warmth. “We can look through them before you leave, and I’ll ask Mum if there are any others we can send you.”
“Thank you.” I dropped my gaze to the uneven ground in front of me. “Do you think it’s weird that we have a history like that?”
“I think it’s weird we can’t remember any of it.”
“We were kids. I can remember a few things that make sense now, but I doubt I’d have been able to pick you or anyone else out of a line up. It’s not like we have unique names, either.”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “I know at least three Graces and two other Wills.”
“Exactly. Memories are weird things. I sometimes don’t know if I’m actually remembering stuff with Mum or if I’m making those memories up, so not remembering you seems pretty normal as far as things go.”
“That makes a lot of sense. I guess it’s no different to remembering a certain event in your childhood but not getting the details right.”
“Right. Like I could swear I got a toy kitchen for my third birthday, but Dad always insisted it was for my fourth. I asked Granny, and she agreed with him. I’d still swear on my life I was three when I got it.”
William laughed, continuing to throw the ball for Bruce. “I can imagine how fun those conversations are. But no, I don’t think it’s weird that we met again after all that time, if that’s what you’re really asking.”
“You don’t? Don’t tell me you believe it was all meant to be or something like that.”
He shrugged. “There are a lot of things linking us together, if you think about it. Our paths would have probably crossed sooner or later.”
“I suppose. Probably in a week or so at Eric’s funeral.”
“Are you going?”
“Dad asked me to. Well, it was an order disguised as a request,” I said, looking around at the beautiful landscape coated in white. “Isn’t your arm sore yet?”
“Nah, I keep switching,” William answered. “So you’re going?”
“I don’t have a choice. Besides, it would be rude not to. It’s one thing to skip birthday get togethers and even a wedding, but a funeral is quite disrespectful.”
“So you’d rather mourn someone when they’re dead than celebrate them in life?”
“Yep. The dead can’t ask you when you’re getting married and having babies,” I replied brightly. “Also, it’s the only place where you can reply, “When’syourfuneral?” when someone asks you when your wedding is.”
William pursed his lips, but I could see he was fighting back a laugh. “I think that’s an answer you could give anywhere, to be honest.”
“I know, but it’s more shocking at a funeral. My great-aunt’s second husband died two years ago, and her friend asked me when I was going to have a baby. I asked her when her funeral was, and when she told me it was inappropriate, I told her that the contents of my uterus was none of her business, and if she didn’t want to answer an inappropriate question, she shouldn’t have asked one in the first place.”
“What did your great-aunt say?”
“I believe it was, ‘Thank God someone’s finally told that old biddy to shut up.’”
“Not so friendly, then.”
“No, and I’d have believed her sentiment more if she hadn’t reminded me to get married before she died.”
