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Amelia Wells lowered herself onto the sofa opposite her Grandmother Mabel and examined her carefully. The old woman wasn’t looking back. Amelia was almost certain she was dead.

The almost part was the trouble. Could she truly be sure? What if Grandmother Mabel was just in a really deep nap? Did people do that with their eyes wide open?

Amelia hadn’t heard of that, but she didn’t know trees could grow sideways out of cliffs until she saw it. Was this like that? Was Grandmother Mabel just growing sideways?

Amelia leaned forward, giving her grandmother’s arm a gentle shake. She slumped sideways a little.

Amelia sank back, tears welling. The denial was falling away. Amelia was sorry to see it go. Because this was bigger than her grief. This was an event of consequence. Grandmother Mabel wasn’t just her grandmother; she was a leader of their community. Her passing would shake the island of Solhaven to its core.

Amelia really needed to stop seeing her grandmother’s eyes staring into nothing like that. She grabbed a dishcloth from the kitchen (clean, of course. Grandmother Mabel didn’t leave dirty dishcloths around) and placed it over her face as respectfully as possible.

Amelia sat down to think, to process, to try and feel anything other than pure panic. She pressed her fingers to her brow, willing the world to stop spinning.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Mabel? You in there?’ came Esther’s voice, ringing through the wooden door at a volume that made Amelia flinch.

Of all the people to knock on the door, Esther was probably the worst. Not only was she an Elder like her grandmother, but she was the most observant woman on the island (there was another word for it, but Amelia didn’t like to use it), and if she so much as suspected Mabel had passed, the whole community would be in an uproar within minutes.

Amelia wasn’t ready for that.

She went to the door and cracked it open just enough to show her face.

‘Amelia!’ Esther exclaimed. ‘You here to help escort Mabel to your mother's?’

That had been the idea. Her grandmother had been late to her daughter’s—Amelia’s mother’s—regular Saturday morning tea, and her mother had packed her off to check on her. Before Amelia realised Grandmother Mabel had had her last cup of tea.

‘That’s right. That’s right. That’s what I came to, to, to do. How are you?’ Amelia asked, trying to appear normal.

Esther looked delighted to answer that question. ‘How am I? Awful. Just awful. My feet are such a burden, Amelia. I was born with flat feet, and I’ve learned to bear that. But now a bunion? What more suffering will be heaped upon me, I ask you?’

Amelia shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘My sister has the gout in her foot. I’ll probably get that next.’

‘You might,’ Amelia agreed without thinking.

‘You think so?’ Esther said, slightly shocked.

‘Sorry, no, I didn’t mean…’

‘Anyway, that’s why I’m here, on the off chance I’d catch her. And my luck is in! Your grandmother might have something to relieve the pain, mightn’t she? When I had my digestive issues, she sent them packing and no mistake.’

Amelia put her hand on the doorframe, standing in her way as though it were a barricade. ‘She’s resting. She’s got a… She’s picked up something, I think. We think.’

Esther narrowed her eyes. ‘Funny. She didn’t mention anything of the sort at Council yesterday.’

‘Came on suddenly this morning,’ Amelia said quickly.

She was well aware that her lie would catch up with her at some point. But that was later. Right now, Amelia just wanted Esther to go away so she could get herself together.

Esther’s lips pressed tight. But before she could interrogate Amelia further, the front gate creaked open. Amelia turned her head to see Finn coming up the path, a bundle of firewood over his old, sloping shoulders.

‘Amelia! Got a load of wood here for Mabel’s hearth. I thought she might need it with the chill coming on,’ Finn called out.

‘Oh, Finn, that’s so kind, but I think she’s fine for wood!’ Amelia said, too brightly.

‘Better to be safe,’ he said with a wink, setting down the firewood. He looked past Amelia. ‘Where is Mabel, anyhow?’

‘She’s—resting,’ Amelia said again, her voice shaking a little on the final word.

Esther didn’t look convinced. ‘I’ve never known a little bug to put Mabel down. Even when she sprained her ankle, she couldn’t be persuaded to stay off it. She grabbed a stick and limped to church.’

Amelia’s heart pounded in her chest. She opened her mouth, but before she could think of a reply, a small crash from the sitting room made all of them jump.

‘What was that?’ Finn asked, alarmed.

‘Nothing!’ Amelia squeaked, nearly choking on her words. ‘The wind, probably!’

But it was too late, Esther was pushing past her. Finn followed, and Amelia was left to trail behind them, her legs feeling heavier with each step.

They reached the sitting room, where Mabel had slumped further, her hand falling into a side table, knocking it over. The dishcloth was still in place, however.

Esther picked up the dishcloth and gasped. She placed it back. Finn started crossing himself.

They both looked at her. ‘Why wouldn’t you tell us?’ Esther demanded.

Amelia rubbed her temples. ‘I was just trying to figure out how to—well, you know—break the news.’

Esther’s voice quivered as she turned to Amelia. ‘Amelia, this is Mabel. You don’t break this kind of news. You announce it. We need to gather everyone now.’

‘Oh no,’ Amelia murmured, ‘she wouldn’t want that. She hated being fussed over.’

‘She did,’ Finn agreed solemnly. ‘But the people will need to know.’

‘Shouldn’t we wait a bit? Let the doctor check her…’ Amelia asked, panic rising in her chest.

It was too fast. She’d only found her a couple of minutes ago, and Mabel’s death was already becoming public.

Esther straightened her hat. ‘We need to do this properly, Amelia. A gathering in the Long Hall. The island must mourn together. It’s only right.’

Amelia's shoulders slumped. ‘Whatever you think is best,’ she buckled.

‘I’ll ring the bell!’ Esther announced with slightly too much enthusiasm.

Then she sprinted outside, her burdensome feet troubling her no longer.

Amelia sat back down opposite her grandmother, shattered. Something terrible occurred to her only then.

‘Oh no, wait!’ she cried after Esther.

Finn looked to the door. ‘She’s gone.’

‘I have to tell my mother! She can’t find out with the island,’ Amelia told him.

‘Oh, hell’s teeth, I hadn’t thought of that! Poor Lorna!’ Finn said sorrowfully. ‘It’s a terrible thing to lose your mother. A terrible, terrible—’

Amelia didn’t have time for this. She stood. ‘Finn! There’s no time!’

His hand moved to adjust his hair awkwardly. ‘Lorna’s a fair walk away. What’s the quickest way to get there? Do you need a cart or—?’

Amelia, already halfway out the door, didn’t look back. ‘No time for carts, Finn! I’ll run!’ She bolted out the front door, making for the narrow path that led to her mother’s cottage on the other side of the village.

Her thoughts were an incoherent mess of panic as her boots clattered on the gravel path. She should have taken the cart. Why hadn’t she taken the cart?!

The wind picked up, blowing her hair into her face, and just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, a flock of ducks flew across her path, honking loudly. She swerved to avoid them and slid over on her hands and knees.

‘You… ducks!’ she cursed.

She got to her feet, ignoring her scraped hands and scuffed knees, and reached the bend in the path where she could see her mother’s cottage, just a few hundred yards away. By her reckoning, she had less than a minute to get ahead of the bell.

Her pace quickened; her breath ragged now. Her legs burned; her chest ached.

Finally, she reached the small cottage. She didn’t even bother knocking—just threw the door open and ran in. Her mother was sitting at the dining table with Mrs Caldwell and Mrs Hanford, a large pot of tea and a plate of freshly baked shortbread between them.

‘Amelia?’ Lorna said, looking mildly annoyed at the intrusion. ‘Why are you busting in here like a ten-year-old! You’re a grown woman. Walk in like it.’

Amelia shook her head. ‘Mum, it's… um…’

‘Go back out and try again,’ her mother said.

Amelia’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What?’

But her mother was turned toward her friends. ‘Thirty-five, and we’re not done raising her. Would you credit it?’

Mrs Caldwell and Mrs Hanford looked amused.

‘Fine,’ Amelia muttered, turning on her heel, pulling the door open and stepping outside.

Time was seriously running out. The bell would ring any second now.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the door handle, paused to gather her composure, and then pushed it open again. This time, she entered slowly, deliberately. step at a time. Head held high. She even let the door swing closed with a soft click instead of the slam it had made earlier.

Her mother nodded. ‘Better.’

‘Mum, I need a private chat. Right now,’ Amelia said, plastering a polite smile on her face and attempting to pull her mother to a different room.

Lorna pulled back, resisting with surprising strength. ‘Amelia, I have guests. I can’t just—’

‘We don’t have time for this!’ Amelia pled.

Lorna finally threw her hands up, exasperated. ‘Your manners today! What on earth—’

The bell rang.

‘Grandma’s dead!’ Amelia blurted out, practically throwing the words at her.

There was a long pause as Lorna froze, her expression one of total disbelief. ‘What?’

The island’s bell continued to ring, its deep, resonant toll echoing through the house, filling the silence. Lorna stood. For a moment, Amelia thought she might say something—but instead, her mother crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

As Mrs Hanford And Mrs Caldwell rushed to her aid, Amelia could only watch. In retrospect, she decided, perhaps the bell would have been a better way to break the news.