‘True that.’ He reached forward and took the mug of tea from her hands, sipping it. He had learnt that in Kellow homes, tea was communal.
‘I was just saying to Jarvis, I’ve heard juicy gossip today. Some of the staff were talking about Loretta Mortimer, who’s the chair of the board of governors. They reckon she was born in a field on the outskirts of town and that old Guthrie Mortimer only married her because his father made him marry someone, and that he drank because he never got over his one true love, Helen. No wonder she’s so spiky! What do you think of that?’
She turned to face him, the man who held her hand across the mattress at night. The man she loved beyond words and would love beyond life.
‘I think that it’s a shame folk still find the need to talk about someone at all, sad that she should be the brunt of gossip and tittle-tattle for all these years. And I think you’ll find the girl Guthrie loved and who loved him in return was called Ellen, not Helen.’
‘Hah! Your gran was called Ellen.’ Alex smiled at the coincidence.
‘Yes she was, my love, yes she was.’