Doning wellington boots, they started walking through the old cemetery. She walked ahead, keen to find the headstone, to be the one to call gently “it’s here”.
Walking about the rows, reading the epitaphs and wondering who these people had been, what their lives and loves had been like.
After several hours she spotted the headstone. Not exactly how she remembered it, but it was definitely the one. She bowed her head in respect and remembrance for someone long since passed.
Suddenly, she felt her colour drain away; for there was a small pile of bones…….