When Cora got home from town, she went straight upstairs.

She took a cursory look in Holly’s bedroom. Everything seemed to be in order in there. The girl was quite neat and tidy, which was a relief.

Cora had read in the newspaper recently that young people from Holly’s generation had been largely spoiled by over-generous parents and consequently were barely self-sufficient. It was probably an unfair generalisation.

Holly hadn’t said much about her early family life, but she had made one or two vague comments that had led Cora to believe she hadn’t been particularly cosseted, nor indeed nurtured appropriately, as one might expect.

Cora walked over to the window, and that was when she saw the flashing green light on the floor. A laptop.

She’d popped her head round the door yesterday evening to bid Holly goodnight and the girl had been sitting up in bed tapping away on it. Nothing unusual about that, but she’d had the most dreadful scowl on her face and Cora could have sworn her eyes looked moist.

She’d slammed the lid shut and smiled over-brightly, bidding Cora goodnight as if nothing was wrong. Which, of course, usually indicated that something was.

Last year, Cora had attended a free ten-week computing course at the local library. It had covered basic IT skills and had been billed as suiting ‘silver surfers’, which she had found a silly and irritating term.

Surprisingly, she’d taken to it like a duck to water. Their tutor, Anna, had shown them how to compose a letter, write and send emails, and negotiate the internet.

It had been a revelation to Cora: whole department stores and supermarkets to browse at the click of a button!

She had fully intended buying a computer to use at home after the course, and Anna had offered to help her select and purchase a suitable model. But then the tutor had moved away to care for a sick relative, and Cora’s new-found computing enthusiasm had seemed to disappear with her.

She stared at the laptop. She could open it right now and, provided it hadn’t got one of those password locks on it, have a little practise before her skills became too rusty. She’d been thinking of getting a lightweight coat for the spring, and it would be useful to look around online to save her walking all round town in search of one.

She felt sure Holly wouldn’t mind.

Cora glanced at her watch then and realised the time had quite run away from her. It would have to wait for another day after all.

She walked out of the room and across the small landing. Picking up her bulging handbag, she went into her own bedroom and closed the door behind her, setting to work immediately.

Huffing and puffing, she eventually managed to get everything sorted, and only had the bed to make and the curtains to open when she heard a tap on the bedroom door.

‘Hang on,’ she managed, perching on the edge of the bed to get her breath back and calm her heart rate down.

Was this how it felt, she wondered, when a heart attack struck? At her age, you often got to wondering how you’d go, how exactly it would happen.

Cora’s preference was for quick and painless… but that was everyone’s wish. Last year, an old man had been vocal in the greengrocer’s and that had set her thinking.

‘Not to drag on for months but to give me long enough to put my affairs in order,’ he’d declared, obviously having given it a lot of thought.

He had a point, Cora admitted. It occurred to her that should she pop her clogs right now, this minute, nothing at all would be sorted.

She knew it was something that needed addressing without delay, and she fully intended to take action. She just needed a little more time to finalise her thoughts and speak to David.

Holly called out her name.

Cora hadn’t heard the back kitchen door open and close, or footsteps on the stairs. It was frightening really; she should lock up in future before getting sorted up here.

‘Cora? Are you all right in there?’ Holly called again, this time in a concerned voice.

‘I’m fine, dear,’ she said. ‘I’m just getting my breath back. Come in.’

The door opened and Holly peered round it cautiously. Her eyes darted this way and that as she squinted a little in the gloom.

‘You’ve got the curtains closed,’ she said, stating the obvious.

‘Yes, I’ve just had a little lie-down.’ Cora shifted uncomfortably under Holly’s stare. It was glaringly obvious, what with being a little out of breath and ruddy-cheeked, that she hadn’t been resting.

Whatever, Cora told herself. She didn’t have to provide an explanation to Holly. This was her house, her bedroom and her business.

Nobody else needed to be involved. Yet.

Holly, God bless her, seemed to sense Cora’s reluctance to chat and went back downstairs to make them a drink.

Cora finished her tasks in the bedroom and went downstairs herself.

‘David came around this afternoon,’ she told Holly after thanking her for the tea. ‘He says he’s seen you at work.’

‘Kellington’s?’

‘The very same.’ Cora looked pleased. ‘Didn’t I tell you? He works there as a parking attendant.’

‘No, you didn’t say.’ Holly frowned. ‘I haven’t seen him there.’

‘Well, he’s stationed outside mostly, I think.’ Cora chuckled to herself. ‘To hear him talk, he’s got more responsibilities than Mr Kellington himself.’

‘He seems very fond of you, though, David,’ Holly said. ‘I’m glad you’ve got someone close by to look after you a bit… after your husband passed, I mean.’

‘Oh yes, David has been coming round here since he could walk.’ Cora smiled and gazed into the middle distance. ‘Harold had been ill for some time. The day I went upstairs and found him cold and still, David was the one who calmed me down, phoned the ambulance. He stayed with me until the next day, slept right there on the sofa.’

‘That was kind of him,’ Holly said softly.

‘Yes.’ Cora smiled at her. ‘The mark of a true friend.’