The Lost Letter by Richard Nichols.

It had been six weeks since the funeral.

Long enough to get used to the idea that he was an orphan now.

Dan had laughed a little when he first used that word, orphan.

How old do we have to be before we no longer describe ourselves as that?

He thought to himself. But to him, Dan was an orphan. After all, both his parents had died.

First his dad, although that was many years ago, and now his mum. But at 57 years old,

to describe yourself as an orphan, seemed odd. Hence why Dan had smiled when he said to his wife,

Joanna, that he was now little orphan, Danny, and she'd squeezed his hand. He was joking, of course. Well, she knew that there was some truth in it, and she'd squeezed his hand. He was joking, of course,

but she knew that there was some truth in it,

and she'd been dreading the day that Dan's mum would pass away as much as he had.

She knew what she'd meant to him.

Annabel had been the perfect mother-in-law.

She was determined, strong, and fiercely loyal to Dan. She was determined, strong, and fiercely loyal to Dan,

but had never stood in the way of him having a new woman in his life, even though Joanna could

see it must have hurt her. Dan was an only child. His father had died when Dan was only three,

and Annabelle had brought him up single-handedly.

And as a parent herself, Joanna knew how difficult it must have been to watch him grow and fly the

nest, but she'd never held him back. Not in any way, shape or form. In fact, she was probably more

of an encouraging parent than anyone could ever be.

Dann had told her stories about growing up, and always spoke fondly of his mum.

When I look back, it said one day, she must have been so patient. I was not the easiest of kids to bring up.

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