A space had been left below, filled three weeks later by the words:
DEIRDRE SELLON,
18th February 1921-28th October 2003
Beloved wife of the above
Together always
‘I remember how you insisted on leaving that space,’ Pippa murmured as she tidied away a few weeds. ‘Even then you were planning for the day you’d lie beside him. And the pictures too. You had them all ready for your own time.’
A family friend had returned from a trip to Italy and mentioned how Italian gravestones usually contained a picture of the deceased. ‘It really makes a difference to know what people looked like,’ she’d enthused. ‘I’m going to select my picture now.’
‘So am I,’ Dee had said instantly.
And she had, one for herself and one for her husband, taken when they were still in robust middle age. There, framed by the stone, was Dee, cheerful and ready to cope with anything life threw at her, and there was Mark, still bearing traces of the stunning good looks of his youth, when he’d been a daredevil pilot in the war.
Below them was a third photograph, taken at their sixtieth wedding anniversary party. It showed them standing close together, arms entwined, heads slightly leaning against each other, the very picture of two people who were one at heart.
Less than two months later, he had died. Dee had cherished the photograph, and when, three weeks after that, she had been laid beside him Pippa had insisted on adding it to the headstone.
Finishing with the weeds, she took out the flowers she’d brought with her and laid them carefully at the foot of the stone, murmuring, ‘There, just how you like them.’
She rose and moved back, checking that everything looked right, and stood for a moment in the rich glow of the setting sun. A passer-by, happening to glance at her, would have stopped and gazed in wonder.
She was petite, with a slender, elegant figure and an air of confidence that depended on more than mere looks. Nature had given her beauty but also another quality, less easy to define. Her mother called her a saucy little so-and-so. Her father said, ‘Watch it, lass. It’s dangerous to drive fellers too far.’