She set off for the kitchen, her gammy leg dragging a little. She produced bone china
in a perfect rose pattern. Somehow he knew that she always had tea out of bone china cups, that the special crockery hadn't been brought out just for him. He felt tears pricking in his eyes as he was reminded of his grandmother. Well, all that was behind him now. Bone china and thin-cut sandwiches and tea with the vicar and the judge and all of them. Past. He hoped forever.
“I can tell from your accent you're from England.” the old lady said.
“Yes, I am.”
“Which part of England? I used to live in Kent many years ago.”
For a moment he was lost for words as he debated what lie to tell. In the end, he said, “Shropshire,” because that was where his prep school had been.
“Oh! Lovely!” she said warmly. “Such a beautiful part of the country!”
He nodded, smiling, hoping she wouldn't ask too many questions.