Holly sat on Robert’s bed, her hands clasped on the footboard and her chin resting on her hands. Robert sat on the room’s only chair, a spindly affair that creaked with the occupant’s slightest movement.
He looked at his watch. “Shouldn’t you check on her?”
“No. It’s what happens now. But I think she needed a wee moment alone, too.” Holly picked up the telegram on the bed.
“Should I get tea?”
“Wait and ask her…”
The friends fell into silence, listening to the rain pelting the windows and roof. Holly sighed. “We can do nothing except commiserate about her brother, and I do grieve—I knew Ronnie all my life. But for the other problem, I’ll get to the point—I have a solution,” said Holly.
The door opened and Jo entered the room, a handkerchief to her lips.
“You’re green, Jo,” said Holly
