Loïc“It’s not England that’s magical; it’s life.”
—Loïc Berkeley
“You know what amazes me?” London asks on our drive to the nursing home that houses my granddad. Her question is rhetorical because she continues, “The cottage felt lived in even though no one had stayed there for years. I mean, the sheets smelled like they had been freshly washed. Nothing had dust on it. The air didn’t have the stale smell that abandoned places get.”
“Yeah.”
“I think Ms. Willis has been cleaning that cottage, waiting for you to come, for almost twenty years. That’s commitment.” She reaches over and places her hand on my thigh.
“You’re right. She could have been keeping it nice in memory of Nan, too. They were best friends,” I offer.
“It’s probably a little bit of both,” London agrees. “Are you feeling
