I don’t know what has got into me.” She looks up, as he chokes on his coffee and tries not to spit it everywhere. After a second to compose himsel..., he looks back at her. “My My, Mrs Williams, did you just admit to being wrong? Are you feeling alright?” “I’m sure you find this highly amusing. I wasn’t spying on you, I couldn’t sleep, all I could think about was Charles, and what I have done, what we have done.” She corrects. He reaches across the table and takes her hand, looking at her. She had always insisted on being called 'Grandmother'. There was something noble about that title that 'Gramma' couldn't convey."Your father's hunting lodge, Sean. You don't want to hear any more about it. That doesn't puzzle me."Sean looked up, blankly, out of focus, at something, anything, to divert his attention from his Grandmother. An IV bottle, suspended from a metal pole near the bed, refracted the fluorescent ceiling light. The half-drawn plastic curtain, between her and the other. More

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