Helena was oblivious to any behavioural failings on Althea’s part having, as she did, the utter blind affection for one’s grandchildren that made it impossible for her to be anything other than perfect in every way. The name was far from terrible, and she had a fair idea of why Charles was so very insistent but just as her son had not questioned her decision to take this house on as her own so she was not going to question him. Althea it was and she would not permit a single person to pass comment upon her son and remain in her presence.

“Leave your brother be,” she scolded fondly, any force in her instruction being mostly lost as she cooed at her granddaughter who promptly climbed onto her lap with a wide smile. She really was perfect: she expected no less of Charles of course but, though she would never say it to her friend, she truly hoped the part of her that was Noelle never came to the surface. Trust the ridiculous girl to linger on, mournful and more irritating in death than she ever could have been in life.

“I’m very well but I take it you haven’t come just to ask after my health?”