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“So what happens now?” George asked.

Ash ran her tongue over her teeth and Pen knew what she was going to say before she said it. “I have to call the solicitor,” she said.

“But from what you’re saying, this girl isn’t even Mary’s niece,” Pen put in, trying desperately to think.

“And neither am I,” Ash said carefully.

George took a breath and laid a hand on Jesús’s shoulder. “You’ve had a shock. Do you feel like a drink? I certainly do.”

Jesús looked curiously at Pen and she saw that he had brown, kind eyes. The sort of kind eyes that she knew Mary would love. And her heart crumbled a little more because this man had just lost the woman he loved, whether they lived together or not, and he must be hurting and yet here he was patiently explaining to Pen why her life couldn’t be the way she wanted it to be.

“Yes,” Jesús said. “Perhaps that would be best.” He looked at Ash. “And so…”

Ash grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and scribbled down her number. “That’s my mobile, text me so I have your number. I’ll talk to the solicitor this afternoon, tomorrow morning at thelatest, and let you know what he says. He’s going to need to track down the real Ashley and I think he’ll want your help with that.”

“Of course,” said Jesús. He cleared his throat. “I wonder if, perhaps…”

Pen was about to speak, to tell him that of course he should go upstairs, but Ash got in before her. “Please, take your time, if there’s something of Mary’s you’d like, help yourself. And, uh, I’m sure that George will be happy to fill you in on the details of what happened and where her memorial is.”

“Absolutely,” George said.

It took another forty five minutes before Ash was closing the shop door behind George and Jesús, leaning back against it, facing Pen. “I know what you’re going to say,” she said.

“You do not,” Pen said.

Ash crinkled her face into a smile. “Give me some credit, Pen. I have gotten to know you at least a little over the last few weeks.” She bit her lip. “And let me just put this out there: I want to continue to get to know you.”

The weight in Pen’s chest lifted a little. “You do?” she said. “So you’re not leaving?”

“You’re about to tell me to pack my things up and move them into your flat, aren’t you?” Ash said.

Pen shifted her weight to her other foot. She had been about to say exactly that. “Um, well, you could sleep on the couch if you think it’s too soon to officially move in and everything.”

Ash shook her head. “I can’t do that, Pen. It wouldn’t be fair on either of us.”

“Why not? I’m inviting you. You said that you liked it here, you said that you were thinking of staying. Or did I imagine all that?”

Finally, Ash moved from in front of the door, coming and looping her arm through Pen’s, leading her back through to the kitchen and sitting her down. Fabio chirped and rolled over onthe table that he’d just jumped up on so that Pen could scratch his belly.

“Pen, let’s be sensible here.”

“What’s not sensible? I like you, you like me, you like it here. I see that things aren’t quite as easy as they were a couple of hours ago, but I don’t see why we have to change so much.”

“Because…” Ash sat down opposite her. “Because, in words that maybe you can understand, perhaps it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pen said, her voice sharp again because she didn’t want to cry. “I thought you said you wanted to get to know me more.”

“I do,” Ash said reasonably. “But two hours ago, I had a potential home and a business to run here in town, one conveniently located next to a woman that I find very interesting indeed. Now I don’t have those things and, realistically, I do have a flat and a life in London.”

“Which is very far away,” Pen said dismally.

“It’s not that far.”

A thought suddenly came to Pen. “What if he’s a scammer?”

“A scammer literally called Jesus?” asked Ash, raising an eyebrow. She sighed. “Did he honestly seem like he was lying to you?”

Pen thought back to the hurt in his eyes, painted across his face, and shook her head. “No, I suppose not.”