“Well, that was one to remember,” Marcie said as she lay her hand tenderly on Ben’s chest, “Being utterly intimate with you, yet turned away from you too so that it felt as if we were giving ourselves to the sea and the sky, especially when we were blessed by the rain!”

“Aye, I hope so,” Ben agreed sincerely, thinking that the moment he’d planned might be on them. He went on, “I mean, I hope we really will remember this, as a special day, a special moment.”

“Of course we will, Ben,” Marcie assured him, but she seemed to have caught the hint of something else behind his words. Even as she kept smiling, she gave a slight frown and raised a thick eyebrow, asking, “Was there something else on your mind?”

“Well, Marcie, actually there is,” Ben said, feeling his heart hammer in his chest now that he was finally going through with it, yet he knew he was grinning like a fool once more at the thought of what was about to happen. He clasped Marcie’s hand as he rolled onto his side, then pushed himself up onto his knees, suggesting, “Shall we stand up to do this properly?”

“Do what, Ben?” Marcie asked with deep suspicion now, even as she smiled back at him and went along with his suggestion, taking both his hands now as they rose stiffly to their feet facing each other.

Ben took a deep breath, staring down into her eyes now with an intensity that she mirrored, knowing with absolute certainty that she was now the true centre of his world, his reason for being. He was blind to the wide sky and the peaceful dunes and the rolling sea, just as he was deaf to the whispering wind and the wild birds, yet he was glad of all that making the backdrop for what he was about to do. He solemnly dropped one of Marcie’s hands and dug deep in the pocket of his jeans to find the tiny box he’d smuggled away from the back of the bedroom drawer earlier. Then he fell to one knee on the blanket-covered sand before Marcie.

At that moment she must have suddenly guessed what he planned, as she dropped his other hand and covered her mouth, emitting a soft high-pitched cry of surprise and urgently whispering, “Qaddisa Marija! You’re not about to do what I think you’re doing, are you Ben?”

Ben gazed up into her wide eyes, already sparkling with welling tears behind her rain-spattered glasses, as he opened the box in front of her, raising it up so she could see the platinum ring with its modest solitaire diamond. He took another deep breath, then solemnly said, “I love you Marcie. You are my Sun and my stars, the light of my whole life, from now on, into our shared future, I truly wish. So will you say you’ll join me on that course, Marcie? Will you marry me?”

“Oh Ben!” Marcie cried aloud with a wracking sob, falling to her knees before him too and clasping his proffered hands with a desperate grip, “Yes! Yes of course I will! I didn’t know you’d ask, not so soon, but it’s right isn’t it? You’re right. We’re ready for it. Holy Mary, you’re the love of my life, I’m sure of it! Yes, I’ll marry you, Benjamin Osborne, and we’ll sail our little boat together, into a shared future, just as you say. It’s your little phrase, ‘We are two become one’. I know that deep within the roots of my being, from my fluttering heart, my liquid cwm, my aching soul.”

With that she threw her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck and squashing his raised hands and the precious little box to her breasts. He felt her body shake as she sobbed again, and then she pulled back, taking his head in her hands as she stared searchingly into his eyes. Ben saw the tears on her cheeks, the red rims of her own eyes, and even a dibble of mucus beading on her nose. She must have realised how she looked as she laughed, wiping her sleeve across her face. Then she looked down at the ring again, with an open smile on her wide mouth even as the tears kept welled on her long eyelashes. Ben saw these even more clearly when she took her glasses off to wipe them on her shirt, saying, “I’m so sorry. I’m making a right scene, and you’d planned this all so beautifully I realise now. Are you sure you still want to go through with your proposal, seeing how quickly I can get into such a state?”

“Of course I’m sure, Marcie,” Ben reassured her with utter sincerity as she slipped her glasses back on and raised his eyes to his once again, “You are a beautiful shining goddess to me, even now, especially now. And you know I love you, heart and soul, not just for your bewitching feminine beauty.”

“Oh Ben, I’d say don’t tease,” Marcie laughed, having lifted her arms to cradle his head in her hands once more, “But I know that a part of you at least quite seriously believes all that.”

“And part of you does too,” Ben said calmly, “What were you saying, in our little play-acting ritual? ‘Mother Sea, salt of our blood.’ You’re admitting it, the supreme goddess we imagine, she’s in you.”

“And the Sun god is in you, in your warm heart and your bright soul, my beautiful fit boyfriend,” Marcie said, smiling wholeheartedly as she twined her fingers through his hair.

“Your fiancé now, if you’ll put this ring on,” Ben prompted.

“Oh yes. I’ve already said yes, haven’t I?” she replied with an embarrassed giggle, then looked seriously into his face again. She gripped his hair firmly, then moved her hands to touch his face, pressing her fingers to his forehead, his eyebrows, his nose, his cheekbones and his lips with an almost confused concentration on her own tear-streaked face. She murmured, “You are real, aren’t you? We are really here on Lindisfarne and you have genuinely proposed marriage to me, this isn’t just a dream, right?”

“You’re right, this is our real life, right now,” Ben calmly reassured her, then he carefully took the ring from the box, which he set aside. With his other hand he pulled Marcie’s left hand down between them, holding its palm towards the ground to stretch out her fingers, which he noticed were still slightly tacky from the mess they’d been making together earlier. Then he asked formally, “Would you like to wear this ring now, Marcie, for me?”

“Oh Ben, yes I would,” Marcie replied with just as much serious gravity in her tone. And with that, Ben eased the ring onto her third finger with its diamond uppermost. He was very glad that it seemed to fit her well, and that the sketched circle he’d surreptitiously taken from one of her other rings to show to the jeweller in Whitley Bay had been good enough. He raised his eyes to Marcie’s, to catch her raising hers with a kind of surprised happiness from the ring that she’d been staring at too.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, and then finally, without saying another word, Ben leant forwards to kiss her. Her lips were soft as he pressed his to them, experimentally brushing them with the tip of his tongue, then she relaxed her jaw just a little more and touched her tongue to his. Their kiss grew, with Ben lifting his free hand to the back of Marcie’s neck, just as hers held his crown, even whilst their other hands remained tangled around the hard loop of platinum on Marcie’s finger, squashed between their chests. Ben felt the intimacy of their contact, hearing the very human squelch of her squashed nose as well as the sensitive brush of her exhaled sigh passing across his mouth from hers. He tasted the salt of her tears and felt a languid yearning in their mouths as their lips and tongues grazed the other’s. But it seemed to Ben as if they both knew that they’d done all they needed to do with their bodies for the time being, and their tender kiss naturally parted without descending into the hungry chaotic passion they’d shared earlier.

“I was thinking, shall we have another sip of wine, to celebrate the moment?” Ben asked as he pulled back a little.

“I feel as we’ve had quite a big celebration already, in my knees and Vixen!” Marcie laughed, “But that does sound like a great idea, to christen our new commitment and status, if that doesn’t all sound too serious.”

“It is serious, I’ve been serious, popping the big question, but you’ve proved it was the right thing to do,” Ben said, sinking from his own aching knee to crawl towards the bottle he’d left in the chiller bag, which was luckily still upright, retrieving the plastic glasses too.

“Yes, and this looks like a serious sparkler you’ve invested in,” Marcie remarked, holding the ring up close to her eyes for the first time. “How much did you spend on it, or shouldn’t I ask?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Ben shyly confirmed, passing a glass over and pouring the wine, “But I wanted the real deal for you. The jeweller told me the carat number and its rating, for colour and flaws. It’s written down somewhere. It’s called an emerald cut too, apparently, though it is a real diamond. And he explained platinum is tougher, that it keeps its look better than white gold.”

“It sounds like it’s a bespoke piece. I really hope you didn’t overdo it,” Marcie said anxiously.

“You don’t need to worry. It is a one-off, but it will last a lifetime, right? You know Dad gave me a bit of money, and the compensation will come in soon too,” Ben tried to reassure her.

“Oh, Ben, I hope you did the right thing. But it is truly lovely, it’s really beautifully made, and a real rock too! I’m a very lucky girl, in so many ways. And it’s not even my birthday! Saħħa, to us!” Marcie concluded, raising her glass.

“Aye, to us, and to a very long and happy future, together,” Ben agreed, touching his plastic glass to hers, then knocking back a big part of the small measure of warm fizzy wine that he’d poured himself in one gulp.

At that moment they were suddenly startled to hear a man’s voice call out, “Hail, strangers!” They both jerked around, Ben nearly spilling what was left in his cup, to see a pair of elderly smiling faces looming over the edge of the dune, barely ten paces away. Ben imitated Marcie as she raised her hand to give a little wave and cautious greeting in response.

The heavy-set man had a crown of wild white hair around his happy round face, whilst the woman seemed far more elegant, with high cheekbones and a sharp dignified nose, her silver hair swept back to show off an impressive array of silver earrings. Her glossy red lips wore a broad smile that reached the wrinkled creases around her eyes as she spoke up with a clear voice, taking a few steps forwards, “We are so sorry to disturb you, but my friend and I were wandering the dunes to do a little birdwatching, scouting about somewhat independently, when I caught a glimpse of you going down on one knee, young man. I rushed to find my friend, but may I ask, did I just witness a very special moment in your shared stories?”

“Aye, I guess so,” Ben said, feeling a little embarrassed to have been seen, yet also at ease with this seemingly kind and friendly couple. “Please come closer. You can help us celebrate, though the wine’s a bit warm.”

“You said yes then, my dear?” the woman said, beaming at Marcie as she led the man over the edge of the dune. Ben saw now that what he’d taken to be a black pinafore dress was actually a pair of motorcyclist’s leather dungarees, or bib-and-brace jeans as he thought they were known, which the woman wore over her loose long-sleeved blue blouse. The man likewise wore tough biker’s trousers below his own baggy shirt and embroidered waistcoat, though this was pulled askew by the thick strap of a courier’s satchel slung across his body. Ben wondered at the relationship between these two “friends”, as the woman had described them, guessing that they’d ridden out to Holy Island together.

“Yes,” Marcie said happily in answer to the woman’s question, “Ben and I are engaged now. You’re the first to know. We came here to celebrate his birthday, but he surprised me. I’m Marcie by the way.”

“We’re very pleased to meet you, Marcie, and happy birthday Ben,” the woman said, stepping close enough to shake hands, “I’m Marion, and this is Graham. We’re honoured to have found ourselves as spectators to your big event. Please trust our sincerity when we offer you our heartfelt congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Marcie said once she’d cautiously shaken Marion’s hand and then Graham’s, perhaps with a hint of suspicion, or just some embarrassment of her own. She bravely added, “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better blow my nose. Ben’s surprise was a rather emotional moment.”

“Of course dear,” Marion reassured her with a brush on her arm, “I must apologise for intruding, once again, but I just thought it was such a wonderful scene. I’m a performer myself, you see, and Graham is a stage manager, amongst other things, so we’re perhaps in the habit of thinking and hoping that there’s an appreciative audience out there for us. We maybe presume that others live their lives that way too, and would be gratified to know that their work is admired.”

Ben had happily shaken both their hands by now too, noticing the contrast between Graham’s big beefy grasp and the delicate grip of Marion’s long slender hand. As Marcie bent down to tear off a piece of kitchen roll then rise and turn away to dab her face and blow her nose, he spoke for them both, saying “Don’t apologise. It’s nice actually, that someone else saw. It is a special occasion. I’m very happy that Marcie said yes, and I’d be happy to tell the whole world our news. I think you’d agree, wouldn’t you love? You said something, when we first got together, about standing on the street and shouting, ‘We’re in love!’ Will you share some of this wine, to say cheers together? You can have my glass, Marion, if Graham doesn’t mind taking a swig from the bottle, with me. I hope just a mouthful will be fine, if you’re riding your bike later.”

“Bikes, actually,” Graham admitted, “A brace of Hogs. The mob’s gathered down by the Abbey. Mine’s a Wide Glide, Marion’s on a Sportster. And thanks for the offer to wet our whistles, I’ll take you up on that. Do you ride?”

“No,” Ben answered, topping up his glass and passing it to Marion, then offering to pour more to Marcie now that she’d dabbed her nose and turned back into the small circle that they’d made, standing around on the sloping sand. But then he admitted, “I did when I was younger, borrowing my brother’s dirt bike. We grew up on a farm, you see? But I never had more than my CBT. We got here in Marcie’s purple Ford Ka today, safe and sensible. Anyway, cheers! Take the bottle. It’s nice to have met you both, and thanks for joining us.”

“No, thank you for giving us the treat of your little spectacle today, and for letting us share your prenuptial cup,” Marion said in her theatrical way with a beaming smile, “And let me raise a proper toast. Do you mind a bit of Heathen jibber-jabber on this Viking coastline? Well, here goes,” she said, once Ben and Marcie had both assented to her suggestion, then paused, clearing her throat and shaking out her shoulders, before continuing in a surprisingly loud and deep voice, “Hail Odin, all-father, may the gods and our ancestors hear my toast. Hail Frigg, beloved mother, may you bless those who would braid the thread of Norns together in love. Hail Thor, thundering bear, may you protect these newly betrothed, and all your people. Skaal!”

As Marion finished with a ringing shout, she threw back her small measure of fizzy wine, spilling some down her chin as she gulped it down. Graham immediately echoed the sense of her last word by calling out “Good health!” before tipping the bottle up to his lips, then passing it to Ben as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Marcie took her cue, raising her own cup and clearly saying her familiar “Saħħa!”, at which Ben noticed Marion raising a curious eyebrow.

For his part, he thought of the Gaelic toast and the Celtic monks who were on this island too, as he intoned “Slàinte mhath!” then raised the bottle to his own lips to take just a sip of the hard-used wine.

“Well, that went rather well I thought,” Marion said with a wide grin, “Whatever you thought of the words, I hope they added a sense of occasion to the moment. You’ll be able to tell your friends about this, your children and grandchildren too perhaps, when you come back to this spot to reminisce about the moment you decided to truly make a go of it together. By the time you’re our age and we’re long gone, you’ll be able to say ‘Do you remember love? We met an old pair of weirdos from Berwick, who spied your grandad going down on one knee to give me this ring. They tried to give us a half-arsed Heathen blessing, then pinched some of our wine!’ Is that about right?”

Ben laughed, and said, “Aye, I can picture the scene. I hope we can find just this spot again, when we come back.”

Then Marcie added, “But what Ben’s not said is that we actually quite like that half-arsed Heathen approach ourselves. Look, I’m even wearing a silver Mjölnir that Ben gave me,” she added, pulling the pendant up from the open collar of her blouse. Marion was amazed, and wanted to admire it more closely, which Marcie helped her to do by holding it out to her hand whilst she kept its long chain around her neck. Marion showed it to Graham, who remarked that it was very well done, but then quickly stepped back again and looked away, almost as if he were embarrassed Ben thought.

Marcie went on, “We wouldn’t claim we followed Ásatrú, nor Wicca or any other specific Pagan path, but we’re quite into the idea of the mythic gods and goddesses at work in our lives today, wouldn’t you say love? I was quite into my A-Level classics too, and I guess I see those stories as tapping into what Carl Jung called the collective unconscious, which is very much alive and at work in our real lives. Do you know what I mean? Anyway, they’re all much more colourful and exciting than my Roman Catholic Sunday School stories.”

“Ah, an imaginative and sceptical cradle Catholic,” Marion said with a knowing smile, “I can sympathise with that, Marcie. But Ben, you said you wanted to be sure to find this spot again. What do you think about bringing a big stone from the beach up here to mark just the right nook in the dunes? Graham could help you lift a large one that wouldn’t be kicked away by a casual rambler. If neither of you mind, I can linger here with Marcie and perhaps compare notes on our liberation from the Papal dominion.”

“Aye, that’s a great idea,” Ben said, “If you’re okay with it love, and Graham too?”

Marcie and Graham both assured him they were, then Ben put his boots on and checked he had his inhaler, thinking of the heavy lifting coming up, before heading toward the shoreline with the man who he was already thinking of as a new friend. They came down on a rather unpromising beach of shingle that gave way to mud below the high tide line, yet they spotted some larger boulders just a short distance away. As they walked, Ben remarked, “It was a funny coincidence, Marion spotting me just as I went down on one knee.”

Graham was silent for a moment, looking guiltily down at his feet, then he admitted, “She spotted the two of you earlier, actually. Maybe I shouldn’t say, but we heard a noise. We thought it was a strange bird, but when Marion peeped over the edge of the dune, she saw you both I imagine, then turned to frantically wave me back. She slunk away to where I was crouching and explained what she’d seen, that there was a young couple making love on the sand. Then she told me to retrace our steps and walk around in a wide circle to make sure no one disturbed you. You picked a good spot. I didn’t see anyone else, though perhaps that was also because there was a little shower of rain right then. But I imagine that didn’t put you off. Marion stayed not far from where you were, checking when the coast was clear without spying on you I imagine. She’s not like that. She’s a wonderful kind human being. I must say though, I’m actually rather jealous. I wish I’d carried on like that a bit more when I was your age. I think it’s wonderful that you proposed to the charming young woman, but it’s just as wonderful that you did so right after the two of you had such an intimate moment on the magical Holy Island, in the bosom of nature as it were.”

Ben had been very embarrassed to hear Graham’s confession, but as he listened, he thought that perhaps it had been for the best that it was these two who’d found them, rather than a prudish pair of pensioners or a family with young children for example. He found he was actually very grateful to Graham for being the unknown guardian of their privacy, and he also felt a strong sympathy for the old man, who clearly had a strong affection for his companion. He tried to express all this as he said, “Well, thank you for telling me that, Graham. I’m sorry we weren’t more careful, but I’m glad you and Marion didn’t mind, well, that you didn’t call in the police for example, for our public indecency. And thank you for looking out for us too. I’m glad you both thought to guard us, to protect our private moment, and I’m glad you told me the whole story. We really do owe you.”

“Oh, it was nothing, really,” Graham said, as they mooched about some likely looking stones, “We were enjoying the walk anyway. It made sense to linger and keep your privacy safe. We really weren’t being peeping Toms, you know? And we’ll keep it to ourselves. No one else will know, well, apart from the bit about seeing you propose and get engaged. That’s a nice thing to share I think.”

“Aye, thank you, again,” Ben said. He squatted to try lifting a seemingly flat rock, but when he tried getting his fingers under the wet muddy sand around its base, he realised it was much thicker than he’d thought and firmly embedded in the ground. As they moved on he asked, “And do thank Marion for us. Also for her little toast. It was a wonderfully suitable rite, if she’d just conjured it up. She must be great on stage. I’m sorry Marcie and me don’t follow that stuff, well, not really, so far. But can I ask, are you two married? Could you tell me how you got engaged?”

Graham laughed at this, then explained, “Oh no! She’s rather out of my league, don’t you think? We’ve been friends since we were your age, but she was married to someone else for many years, as I was too. She divorced him in the end, as my wife did me, though that’s all a long time ago now too. I know she’s had other lovers since then, but I’m sorry to say I can’t really claim to have been one of them. Still, I’ve tried to always keep in touch ever since college, through her brush with fame, then on into the hinterland of walk-on TV parts and amateur dramatics. I’ve followed her from Ashram to Zen dojo too, and now into Heathenry, enjoying them all thanks to her enthusiasm, by seeing them through her hopeful eyes. So now I’m just grateful for her friendship, and I cherish the times that we do spend together. Perhaps the little adventure that we’ve had today will bring us a bit closer too. I should be thanking you maybe, for inadvertently putting on such an inspiring show for us, even if we didn’t stop to watch the main act! Here, what about this one?”

Ben was interested by the insight into Graham’s personal history with Marion, thinking that it sounded as if she were almost a muse to him, but he didn’t want to be too nosy. Instead he checked the seaweed-strewn rock that Graham had suggested, squatting with his boots in the briny puddle around it to try lifting its edge. It was nothing special, just a yellow grey lump, rough with barnacles, but it certainly seemed massive enough to stay put if they dropped it in the dunes. Once Ben had given his approval, Graham squatted down opposite him, then they lifted the stone together, finding it quite manageable. Ben guessed it weighed a little more than a regular concrete paving slab, though its irregular oval diameter was smaller.

As they began laboriously making their way back along the beach, clinging to the stone whilst trying not to bump each other with it, their conversation lapsed into grunts with occasional cautions and checks. They had to pause a few times to drop their burden on the beach, stretching their backs and rubbing their hands to revive them before picking up their load again and moving on. The final scramble up the loose sand that led into the dunes was perhaps the hardest part, but Marcie and Marion both made appreciative and encouraging noises as they staggered the last few steps and dropped the rock with relief onto the soft sand next to the picnic blanket.

Ben, like Graham, was heaving for breath by now, and he noticed the older man had also gone quite red in the face. He suggested Graham sit on the rock to take a rest, while he got his inhaler out to take a couple of precautionary puffs. Marcie showed some worried concern, but Ben assured her that he didn’t feel too tight chested at all. Graham meanwhile asked if they minded if he had a smoke, admitting it was a much less healthy way to open his pipes than Ben’s as he pulled a tobacco pouch from his waistcoat pocket. Ben apologised for putting him to so much trouble, but Graham assured him it was nothing compared to some of the heavy lifting he had to do backstage.

As the other three sat down on the blanket themselves to have another sip of wine or a gulp of water, at Marcie’s suggestion, Marion told Graham, “Marcie has been telling me a little about this young couple’s recent history dear. Ben’s actually got a rather nasty lung condition, and it sounds as if it was Marcie’s tender loving care that brought them together. Meanwhile, this feisty young lady has also scored a minor victory against the exploitative patriarchy lurking in her university. Do you mind me saying dear? Well, before Ben, there was a married man in Marcie’s life, her department’s professor no less. When Ben needed her help, just as a friend at this time, the professor objected, so she gave him his marching orders. Then there was a fishy business with a fire at Ben’s old place, which the police decided to question the jealous mister married professor about. And suddenly the lecherous old goat found he’d been kicked out of his cosy family home by his justly suspicious wife, to go sofa surfing with those of his acquaintances who’d still give him the time of day. Meanwhile, he’d got suspended from professional duties pending an enquiry at the university. Is that about it dear? I got the impression that the nosedive in the professor’s reputation as an academic and as a respectable family man of genteel principles will be hurting him more than repeated kicks to the gonads ever could have! It’s quite a story,” Marion paused as a look of concern shaded her face. Then she reached to touch Marcie’s arm as she reassured her, “But you know Graham and I won’t be gossiping about this to anyone else, don’t you dear? Your confidentiality is safe with us, like the other thing, Graham dear.”

“Yes, about that, Marion,” Graham looked up a little guiltily, recovered now from his exertion as he tapped out his rollup out in a little round tin that he obviously carried as a portable ashtray, “I ended up filling Ben in on the whole story about how we stumbled across them earlier. It seemed the right thing to do.”

“It was,” Marion confirmed as if to reassure him, “I let Marcie know too, and I’m still here, so I guess she didn’t feel so cross with me that she had to put out my eyes or bury my eviscerated body in the dunes. We needn’t embarrass these two anymore by going over it now though.”

Ben and Marcie exchanged a guilty look, though he thought he saw a kind of contented relief in her expression too that he empathised with, thinking of how it might have turned out if someone less sympathetic had seen then. Meanwhile, Marion kept talking, saying, “We could tell these youngsters some stories that might still make us blush, couldn’t we Graham dear? Do you remember Morocco for example?” As she said this, Ben thought that she was perhaps seeking a way to balance the burden of trust that she was expecting Marcie and himself to rely on her and Graham for.

Graham confirmed, “Yes, we probably could. But I’m not sure they wouldn’t want to hear them. Seeing us now, well, me at least, they would not want to be stuck with those mental images. But you know I remember our foolish trip to Morocco very well. It wasn’t just the two of us, you understand Ben, but a van load of would-be hippies from arts college. I shudder to think what the well-mannered locals made of us, but when we set up our campsite in the mountains, all in one big old army surplus tent, there really wasn’t much priority given to modesty or privacy. I think you were the only one of us who managed to retain some dignity and grace, Marion. I remember you singing under the stars. You were like a divine angel in our midst, stepped down from heaven to try and lead the rest of us filthy debased reprobates onto a more enlightened path. But in our squalor, we stubbornly resisted your best efforts, with our ropey amplifier and jury-rigged tape deck, not to mention our booze and our hash.”

Marion scoffed at his words, saying “That’s not how I remember it. I’m sure I was just as much of an intoxicated debased reprobate as any of that old bunch of hedonistic wastrels. If I thought it was a good idea to try singing by starlight, and you thought my squawking voice had any merit, then we must both have been pretty stoned to have not known any different. And I was as filthy as anyone else - there was nothing angelic about my body odour or all that unshaved hair on display. But maybe we’d better leave this newly betrothed kind couple in peace before we disgust them further with our geriatric reminiscences?”

Graham agreed as they both promptly rose to their feet, saying they might see them back at the abbey carpark. Ben and Marcie stood up too, Ben shaking Graham’s hand firmly as he agreed to look out for them before they set off for home. Marcie happily concurred as she exchanged a naturally sincere parting kiss on both cheeks with Marion, then did the same, though perhaps a little more awkwardly, with Graham. Ben found himself imitating Marcie as he kissed Marion too, catching the scent of her heavy perfume as she put her lips to his cheeks, feeling the warmth of her dry wrinkled skin against his. She seemed to grip his arms with a passionate enthusiasm for a moment as she muttered, “Bravo! Great work. Now nourish your appreciation. She’s special.”

Ben vaguely agreed with her surprising remarks, but Marion was already moving on to address Marcie as she stepped back, “You’ve got my details now, dear. Do phone if you want my help, or to just chat. I’d love to hear how you get on in any case.” As Marcie agreed, Ben wondered what kind of help the older woman was thinking of.