“I’m not telling you to complicate your life!” I told him, “Just get out of the blasted house once in a while and I’ll keep my thoughts to myself. It would be nice for you to meet someone, don’t you think?”

He rolled his eyes at me, “And what do you suggest? I could run an advert, I suppose. Find some lovely lass on the internet! Can’t you read it now? ‘Single white male. Working musician. Seeks down to earth lady with brains, beauty and elegant taste. Must enjoy listening to jingles repeatedly and having potential mother in law invade domicile without notice’. That or I’ll somehow miraculously find a nice girl in the local pub?” He turned, as if speaking to an invisible someone, “‘May I buy you a drink, Miss?’” He raised his voice to sound more feminine and turned as if speaking to himself, “‘Oh, yes! Ten! And then let’s go back to your flat where I can infect you with some lethal virus and leave you for dead!’” He turned back to me, “Sound good, Mum?”

“I don’t suggest you run an advert,” I narrowed my eyes at him and pretended that he’d insulted me, even though what he had just said was quite funny, “Or go looking in any pub, especially not most of the ones in this town. I just wish you wouldn’t spend your life hulled up in this old house. It’s a big world out there, Warren. Once upon a time you were out in it and now you’re holed up in Welshpool like a hermit! Life is short, Son. Use your wings now and again before they atrophy and fall off.” I had an urge to mention that the same thing might happen to his penis, but I held myself back. I knew my son would have a problem with his mother referencing his penis, especially having it fall off.

He rolled his eyes at me again.

About a month later he rang to tell me he had struck up a conversation in the market with the cashier. Her name was Heather and she wanted to be a music teacher, but couldn’t find a job locally.

“I took her out for coffee. She’s very clever, Mum, and she’s seems like her feet are on the ground. Anyway, I told not to worry if she couldn’t find a job teaching. I told her about my idea to start my own music school.”

“And?”

“And nothing. I told her I’d help her out is all. I’ve been looking into it and I’ve found an empty building in Newtown. I think I’ll do it, Mum. I’ve got a quid or two stashed away.”

“Is she pretty, Warren?”

“What? Ah, Mum,” He sounded annoyed with me, as usual, “Yeah, she’s pretty. And, yeah, I’ve asked her out to dinner as well and she accepted. Are you pleased that I’ve made contact with someone of the female persuasion? I thought it might calm your fears some that I’ll without a doubt die alone and without love.”

“I never said that.”

“Ah, you didn’t have to. I know you too well.”

And what did my youngest son, Warren, go and do next? He took that girl, Heather, out on a date. And then another and then several more. They went on holiday together for two weeks and seemed to be getting along smashingly until one September a year later when she kissed him at our house and casually told him she was in love with him.

What did Warren do after that? He had his father go with him to pick out an engagement ring for Heather and he asked her to marry him. She accepted and the couple took their time planning a date. About six months later he happened to check his mail. Inside the letterbox was an envelope addressed to him with a CD inside. Curious, he opened it. A note scrawled in familiar handwriting read:

Dear Warren,

You probably remember me as the big sister who used to tell you to turn your music off and go to bed. I changed my mind. I want you to drop everything you’re doing at the moment and put this song on and I want you to listen to it. You have to listen to it. You have to before it’s too late. I love you, Little Brother, but you’re very stubborn and very stupid.

Love,

Caro

PS And before you go jetting out on your first impulse to go and see Heather, breathe. Just breathe.

Scribbled in black marker on the blank CD were the words “He Said”. Warren popped it into his player and, no surprise, he heard Gwenllian’s voice. What did Warren do then? According to legend, he listened to the song about ten times. Then he picked up his jacket and walked straight out his front door to go to Heather’s work and tell her he only wanted her. However, on his way there, he said he stopped at a red light and took a breath as his sister had suggested. Before he knew it, he turned right instead of left and found himself on the M16 doing well over the speed limit. He made it to London in half time, had a chat with a doorman he used to know, convinced the man to let him inside uninvited and walked into an apartment building where he met Gwenllian Hughes as she was crossing the lobby to exit. She froze mid-step and they stared at each other in an uneasy silence. Finally, Warren, without approaching her, from halfway across the room, scolded her for lying to him and accused her manipulation and being a heartless wench. Gwen stood in silence and allowed herself to be rebuked. At the end of his tirade. Warren confessed that he’d made a colossal mistake by just leaving like he did and told her that she was the only woman he had ever loved and was the only one he ever wanted to love him. “Who cares if you’re married or I’m supposed to get married? “ He demanded. “Details! Complications can be simplified! It’s just doesn’t have to matter if we want to be together!“

And what did Gwennie do? She dropped her headset on the floor and she ran into his arms. I wasn‘t there, of course, but two weeks later, the doorman, whose name was Diego, told me the story before their wedding. “Neither of them would let go of the other," He smiled, “Like they were afraid if they did they’d lose each other forever. It was quite a while before they left the lobby.”

Gwenllian Hughes became Gwenllian Dickinson in the same registrar’s office where Oliver and I had been married forty-four year before. There was a new constable, of course, and the room had been cleaned and dusted, but otherwise it looked the same as it had that day all those years ago. Alexander grinned and nodded, “This is a good place, "He whispered and both Oliver and I agreed. Bess couldn’t make the occasion, but Oliver and I stood with Carolena, Adam, Gryffin, Lakshmi Alex, Lucy, Nigel, Nattie, Mickey and Annie and Steffen, and we watched our Warren and the girl from down the street take their vows. When Gwen kissed him she whispered, “I’ll love you forever, Ren,” and he whispered the words, “Forever, Gwennie” back to her.

It was all his father and I needed to know that they’d come full circle. We were thrilled.

After swearing that there would never be another secret between them, Warren and Gwen settled into Ana and Eddie’s old house. They sat together hand in hand and laughed at everything and everyone around them all the time. Gwen took time off from recording to help Warren set up his school of music in Newtown, which attracted many students just because she was involved. She released two more albums in collaboration with him and went on a world tour. He stayed home to mind his students. Five years later, her next album was released to a cooler response, but I think that was fine with her, especially since she had just discovered she was pregnant. In May of the following year she bore twin daughters. What do two consummate musicians name two baby girls? Aria and Lyric, of course. Three years after that, they had a son they called Cade, which was, of course, short for Cadence.

Five years after the last grandchild came into the world, Oliver and I were sitting at the kitchen table. Spread out before us were a pile of papers. Bank statements, retirement fund quotes, life insurance policies, an inventory of all we owned, the deed to the land in the wood, and the receipt from the cheque from the bank for the amount that Oliver had just sold his medical practice.