CHAPTER FIFTEEN TAWRIE GUNN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T AWRIE G UNN

A UGUST 2024

‘So, hot chocolate?' Ed asked as he put the key in the front door of Corner Cottage.

‘Yes, please.' Tawrie followed him into the kitchen. She swallowed nerves before voicing her thoughts, reflecting on what she'd shared on the beach. ‘I don't tell many people about my life, how I feel, and about what's going on. How I am.'

‘Well, I'm glad you can talk to me.' He turned to hold her eyeline as he filled the kettle, before grabbing two blue-and-white dotty mugs from a dresser in the corner.

‘I don't know what's happening here, Ed.' Her mouth felt dry.

‘What do you mean?' He stopped foraging for hot chocolate in the cupboard and faced her.

‘I mean ...' Anxiety soup sloshed in her stomach. ‘I mean you and me. I'm not used to feeling like this. This doesn't happen to me.' It felt imperative to voice her worries, to find the clarity that would help her sleep without the jumble of thoughts about this man and where she stood. She was still quite unable to believe her luck.

‘But what if it has happened to you? What do we do then?' His voice was steady as he fixed her with a stare.

‘I guess ... I guess I'd be worried that it wasn't reciprocated. It would be mortifying to feel this way and for it to only be one-way traffic.' Her relief at having spoken so plainly was immense. ‘I don't know what I'd do then, apart from run away,' she half joked.

‘To Lundy?'

‘Possibly.' She smiled.

He took a step forward and sat at the kitchen table. She followed suit. ‘So, Miss Gunn, this is your second interview for the position.'

She laughed, but actually wanted to stay on track. Ed sat up straight.

‘I can tell you, categorically, that it is very much reciprocated.'

‘It is?' she whispered, wondering how actual butterflies and rainbows weren't firing out of her navel.

He licked sweat from his top lip. ‘But it's not straightforward. And so first, I want to tell you the three things you don't know about me.'

‘My heart is racing; I only like straightforward. Can only really deal with straightforward.' And just like that her butterflies and rainbows were back to anxiety soup.

‘Hear me out, okay?'

‘Okay.' Her voice was small and she reminded herself that if the need arose, she could be back at Signal House and in her room in less than five minutes.

‘First thing is that my parents divorced when I was about eight. Everything for me, as I mentioned, has been separate since then. Two houses, two bedrooms, two Christmases, two birthday cakes, two dressing gowns stuck on the back of two hooks on the back of two bathroom doors, two pets – one dog, one cat – they couldn't even agree on that!'

‘I don't know if it sounds like fun or a nightmare.'

‘Both, depending on what I was going through, my age, how well my mum and dad were faring, their partners, the arrival of my step-siblings – all the usual stuff.'

‘There have been times when I was growing up when I'd have quite liked an alternative home to run to, a different parent, different bedroom, different view ...'

‘Yep, it had its advantages and there are some people who don't have one stable home, so I know I'm lucky in some ways. But it was tricky. Up until they divorced, my life was pretty perfect. And so I think I compared it to that a lot.'

‘How was it pretty perfect?' She liked idea of living perfectly.

‘We lived in the house where I was born. Home. Traditional Christmases, Sunday lunches, great holidays, summers in the garden with a paddling pool, lots of laughter and then boom !' He touched his fingers together and let them splay apart like a firework. ‘My dad had an affair.'

‘Oh!' She didn't know what to say.

‘I didn't know it at the time, but I found out after a few years; my aunt let it slip – not in a malicious way – and it really affected me.'

‘That must have been so hard for your mum.'

‘Yep. It got much harder, but initially, they tried to start over, a new place, a new house. And I was bitter, I guess, because I hadn't realised when we packed up our old house in Berkshire that we were packing up so much more than clothes and stuff. We were packing up the only life I'd known. I thought it was temporary and that we'd all go home eventually, but actually, everything was temporary from then on.'

‘Where was your new house?' She was curious as to where he had called home.

He sat back and smiled at her. ‘This was our new house. Here. Corner Cottage, Ilfracombe.'

‘Are you kidding me?' She jumped in her chair. ‘You lived here?' She pointed at the wall, trying to make sense of it. ‘You were my neighbour? How come I don't know you? I've always just lived down the road! Where did you go to school?' The fact that their paths might have crossed was as exciting as it was odd.

‘In fairness, we weren't here for long. We were supposed to be; this was our big new start, but it ended up being for no more than a few weeks and we left just before school started and went back to our old school, as though nothing had happened. And I guess for most of the kids in school not much had happened, but for my sister and me ...' His eyes misted and she wanted nothing more than to hold him. ‘Things quickly got very complicated. My dad moved back into the family home, the one we'd all vacated, and we were there during the week and it was shit, really. He was a mess, couldn't cope, didn't cook, laundry was hit and miss and all the things I'd taken for granted, things my mum did and the way the house felt—' He swallowed. ‘It was a lot.'

‘I can imagine. So where was your mum?'

‘She moved in with my Aunty Ellis, who's great. A spare mum, you know? Always been there for me. She was about forty minutes away and every Friday, Mum would pitch up and collect us from school, and it was always so good to see her, but also horrible too because it reminded me that it was an odd situation. We'd then go to Ellis's house for the weekend, but I often had homework or a sports fixture or wanted to see friends. Plus, we were always on a timer, which felt desperate. Monday morning was always three sleeps away and that meant going back to my dad's.'

‘You must have felt torn?'

‘I did. I do. But then it got even more complicated when my dad moved Wendy Peterson, the woman he'd had the affair with, into our house. So she then kind of tried to step into my mum's shoes in every sense and I couldn't stand it. I was so mad at him for the way he'd treated my mum. I felt like it was all his fault and I found it hard to get over.'

‘Jeez!' She could only imagine.

‘Yep, Jeez! Dad and I fell out quite badly. I was rude, angry.'

‘You were only a kid.'

‘I was, but I still said some pretty hurtful things. My sister Dilly took my dad's part and stayed with him and Wendy, and I went to live with my mum full-time in her new flat, which was closer to school. And that was all good until Mum met Charles Wentworth and they eventually moved into their present house and had my twin brothers, Rafe and Louis. And then my dad had my little sister, Aurelia.'

‘With Wendy?'

‘No.' he shook his head. ‘With Sherry.'

‘Sherry?' She was confused.

‘Yes, Sherry who worked in the coffee shop, who he was with briefly. Briefly enough to have a baby with.'

‘So he's with Sherry now?' She was trying to keep up.

‘Nope.' Ed shook his head. ‘He's now with Ramona who he met on a murder mystery weekend and they have Riley, my baby sister.'

‘I'm a bit confused.'

‘Try living it.'

He rose from the table, re-boiled the kettle, heaped the hot chocolate powder into the mugs and topped up with hot water, stirring vigorously, before passing one to her.

‘Thanks. I see what you mean now, about being at the mercy of other people's decisions.'

‘Yep.' He retook his seat. ‘I left home the moment I was able after uni and you know the rest. Oh, well actually, you don't know the rest – I still have two things to share.'

Her relief at this point was palpable: if this was what he meant by not straightforward, not traditional, then she could happily deal with it. Disjointed families were her specialty.

‘I am so split in two that I even have two names ...'

‘What?' She bit her cheek, praying, praying, praying he was not about to reveal that his name was something mad like Sebastian Farquhar, knowing she'd never live it down and Connie would laugh for a lifetime.

‘Yeah, it's true. My name is Edgar, Edgar Stratton, and my dad has, for as long as I can remember, only ever called me Ed, but my mum calls me Bear, my childhood nickname that stuck, for her at least.'

‘Bear?' She laughed. It didn't suit him at all.

‘Yep. My sister calls me Bear, and Ellis, a couple of others, but not many people.'

‘God, we are really laying it all out here on the table tonight!' She swung her arm in an arc and as she did so, knocked Ed's full mug of hot chocolate over the table. It ran in a river over the tabletop and soaked the arms of his shirt and dripped on to his jeans. She gasped, mortified not only by her clumsiness, but the potential damage to table and floor.

‘Ouch, shit! Hot hot!' He ripped off his shirt and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down quickly until he stood in his boxer shorts.

‘Ed! Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Are you hurt? Look at the table! I'm such a klutz!' Jumping up, she grabbed the cloth from the sink and wiped up most of her spill.

‘Don't worry, it was an accident. I'll pop this in the washing machine.' He balled his jeans and shirt and walked to the laundry room.

Instinctively, Tawrie threw the cloth in the sink and followed him into the relatively confined space. It was cosy, intimate, and it mattered little that there was no soft mattress or music or a cold glass of whatever. There was no more than thirty inches between them as he leaned on the sink and she stood by the window. They moved at the same time. It was visceral, desperate, and all-consuming as the two sank down on to the blue-and-white striped rag rug. Urgently, they pawed at skin and in a frenzy of kissing, he removed her clothes. The new couple, giddy with anticipation, laughed in the moment that would set a new precedent and from which they would emerge changed. Suddenly Ed stopped and, bracing his arms, hovered over her as she reached up to touch his beautiful face.

‘Just so we're clear' – he kissed her fingers – ‘the feeling we were talking about earlier, the one that's reciprocated. It's love, right? That's what's happening here?'

‘Yes,' she whispered, as tears of joy trickled across her temples and soaked into her hair. ‘I love you.'

He kissed her then and stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.

‘And I love you, Tawrie Gunn. I do. It would be so much easier if I didn't, if I hadn't met you yet, not while my life is so ... complex.' He shook his head, and she understood, knowing how tricky it was to navigate a less than conventional family. Not that she cared, not that she cared about much in that minute. ‘But I do. I really do.'

The morning light crept gently across the ceiling as she woke in the arms of the man she loved! Loved! It was exciting, life-affirming and the most glorious feeling she could imagine.

‘Morning.' He yawned, pulling her towards him. ‘Tawrie.' He sat up slightly and she nestled against his chest.

‘What?'

‘I ... I can't think straight!' He gave a nervous laugh.

She understood, knowing that to be wrapped in this bubble of love was indeed brain-scrambling. She felt drunk without having consumed a drop!

‘It's okay, I understand.' She kissed his chin. ‘This is such a lovely room.' She stared at the eaves of the bedroom, once an attic, liking the irregular shapes. ‘But sadly I have to go; I need to get to Hele Bay.'

‘Course you do, little mermaid. Actually' – he sat up, leaning against the wooden headboard – ‘that would be a better name for your swim group. You know peacocks can't swim, don't you?'

‘Not at all?' The thought made her laugh. Of all the swimming creatures Maudie and Jago could have chosen.

‘Not at all, they'd sink like stones!'

‘Think I'll keep that to myself.'

‘So this swimming malarkey, why are you so hooked?' He wrapped his arm around her bare shoulders and pulled her close to him, her head now resting in the slight dip between his chest and throat. She could feel his heart beating against her cheek.

‘It's weird really. I've always liked cycling, pottering around on my bike and walking – hard not to like walking when you live in Fore Street.'

‘True.' He chuckled.

‘Then I saw a couple of videos online of people wild swimming and it wasn't so much the swimming but the way they looked when they got out of the water: just exhilarated! Happy! Rosy cheeked. And some wild swimmers who come into the café to cosy up after their swim, they had this air about them, and I thought, I could do with a bit of that! And it's turned into my favourite thing.'

‘I get it.' He sighed.

‘So come on, what's your favourite thing?'

‘This!' He squeezed her tightly. ‘This is my favourite thing!'

‘I wasn't joking, I want to know!'

‘I'm not joking!' he countered.

‘But I mean, you've done this before?'

‘What? Sex?' he shrieked. ‘Are you suggesting I'm a novice?'

‘No, not that.' She felt her face blush. ‘I mean this!' She pointed back and forth between them. ‘This whole loving thing, which sounds odd but I don't know how else to say it.'

‘Where to begin?' He closed his eyes and wiped his face with his palm. ‘Why, have you done this before?' He pulled away slightly and looked at her.

She took her time, knowing this history sharing was important, more stepping stones to help them along the way. ‘I've had a couple of boyfriends, one serious-ish, Jamie, who I was with when we were at school and then for a few years after. But it just' – she made a dull pop noise with her mouth – ‘fizzled. He's a fisherman, part of the lifeboat crew and he's happily married with a little one. I still see him, it's fine. He's nice. And then the usual crap dates that don't go anywhere that are part of the checklist.'

‘The checklist?' A wrinkle of confusion formed on the top of his nose.

‘Yeah, you know, all the things you need to do before you become a fully formed grown-up.'

‘I am unaware of this checklist, and therefore decidedly concerned that I might not be ticking off all that's necessary before I can claim entry into the world of grown-uphood.'

She loved his humour.

‘Things like falling off a bike, eating so much sugar you feel sick, collecting something obsessively – like football cards or friendship bracelets – and then losing interest just as quickly.'

‘Check, check, check!'

‘What did you collect?' She was curious.

‘Cricket balls.'

‘Cricket balls?' She laughed.

‘Yep, although I haven't strictly lost interest in them. It all started when I found one in a ditch in the village where we lived and it felt like such a lucky thing, a really great day. I thought, if I could find a beautiful, hand-stitched, leather-bound cricket ball then what other wonderful things might happen in my life? I was so delighted with it that my dad gave me another one and then I got one for my birthday and then Christmas and so on, and I had quite the collection. I loved them. I still love them. But haven't added to my collection in quite some time.'

‘That's sweet. And then of course there's the more serious life events to tick off, like voting.'

‘Check.' He nodded.

‘Missing a train or a flight.'

‘Check.' He grimaced.

‘And it's not so much the missing it that's the life lesson, but how you recover, what you do next and how you get out of the scrape,' she explained.

‘Nice. I like that.'

‘Erm, what else?' She thought hard. ‘Breaking a bone – always better to get that out of the way as a kid and there's actually nothing cooler than walking into school with a plaster cast.'

He laughed loudly, as if he could relate.

‘Sleeping under the stars.'

‘Camping? I've done that too.'

‘No, Ed, specifically not camping, but more coming to the end of the evening and finding yourself in a field or on a beach or in a back garden and looking up at the sky and lying there until morning, watching the movement, the light, the shifting darkness.'

‘I've never done that.' He kissed her shoulder.

‘I've never done that either, but it's on my to-do list,' she confessed.

‘I could talk to you for hours and hours ... and we need to, it's important.' He looked a little tense and she wondered if he, like her, was already dreading their parting, even if it were only for a few hours.

‘You have! And now I need to get going!'

She swung her legs to the side of the bed and sat up, looking back as Ed sat with his arms behind his head.

‘Hurry back. I need to see you tonight. We can talk some more, really talk.' He swallowed. ‘And I've got crisps. Fancy an Uno tournament? I need the opportunity to maintain my crown.'

‘Oh well, if you've got crisps ...' Leaning over, she kissed him hard on the mouth, a down payment on the evening to come.

‘I want to say I love you,' he whispered. ‘But it feels new and I'm still nervous.'

‘It's the same for me, but you can say it. In fact, I'd like you to say it.' She grinned.

‘I love you, Tawrie.'

‘I love you too.'

With time ticking on and keen to grab a shower before her swim, she practically ran down Fore Street and up the steps towards home, glancing back at the cottage on the corner where her lover lay, knowing reunion would be sweet. Nothing could dampen the high she felt, nothing could dilute the bubble of pure happiness that filled her up!

As she put her key in the front door and wondered how much to share with her nan, a sharp, acrid tang filled her nostrils.

‘Sweet lord! What's that smell?' She placed her hand over her nose and mouth and made her way into the sitting room.

‘What smell?' Her nan turned to face her, sitting up straight on the sofa.

‘It's disinfectant or bleach or some kind of cleaning fluid?' It was strong, noxious, and overwhelming.

‘Oh yes, well.' Her nan fiddled with the edge of her dressing gown and Tawrie could tell she was stalling. Tawrie's heart sank; the very last thing she wanted to do was embarrass her beloved nan.

‘What happened, are you okay?' She kept her voice soft, not wanting awkwardness to have any part between them. If her nan had had a little accident, Tawrie wanted her to be comfortable in the knowledge that not only was it okay, but that she'd always be on hand to clear up, sort it out, make things better ... Because she was tethered to this house, this town, this family of Gunn women. What had Ed said, a sacrificial lamb. The thought came with a new ping of loss, as if aware of all she would not experience if she didn't spread her wings ...

‘I'm okay yes, love. All okay.' Freda sounded a little indignant.

‘What aren't you telling me?' she asked softly.

‘Nothing!'

The way her nan averted her eyes told her differently.

‘I'm worried about you.' She leaned forward and kissed the crêpey cheek of the woman she loved.

‘No need to worry, love. It was your mother, she ... she ... well ...'

‘What happened?' All the joy of the night just spent was now replaced with something edging close to fury. ‘What happened, Nan?' she repeated, sitting next to her on the sofa.

‘I think she had one or two in the pub.'

‘Really, you surprise me. And I think we both know it's never one or two.' Her teeth ground together, picturing her mother propping up the bar, nipping outside to top up her nicotine levels, before sauntering back into the pub to top up the booze. ‘So why have you doused the place in bleach just because she was in the pub?' This would not be the first, nor the last time that Annalee had expelled bodily fluids that flowed from her in a tide of booze. Sick, shit, piss; the old wooden floor had seen it all, as had much of the stair carpet. To put Freda through such a ghastly experience in her absence made her blood boil. It was the first time in years that Tawrie had not been on hand to make things better, to clean up, and she knew her anger was wrapped tightly in guilt.

‘She ... she wasn't very well when she got back. I did what needed to be done, used an old towel and put it in the bin.'

Her nan looked at the floor and Tawrie knew she was only getting the tail end of what had occurred. Jumping up, she took the stairs two at a time and knocked forcefully on her mother's bedroom door, each knock in time with her hammering heart.

‘Mum? Mum?' She rattled the door handle before walking in, giving her, or anyone who happened to be lolling next to her, the opportunity to cover up. The room was in semi-darkness as the heavy curtains were still drawn. The air was sour, the stench overwhelming. The disgusting tang of wine, vomit and cigarette breath was so potent she could almost taste it. Her stomach rolled with nausea as she made her way across the carpet, littered with dirty clothes, discarded heels, used tissues and crumb-laden plates, trying not to breathe in. She yanked the curtains open and threw the sash window up to let the fresh air whip around the room.

‘Wassgoinon?' Her mother lifted her head from the pillow and propped herself up on her elbow, squinting to avoid the daylight. Her eyes were no more than tiny shrunken holes in her emaciated face, her make-up grotesquely smeared over her cheeks, the remnants of carmine lipstick streaking her lip and chin, short hair sticking up in spikes.

‘What happened last night?'

‘What?' Annalee sat up and rubbed her face, her lilac bra strap falling off her narrow shoulder.

‘Something happened and Nan had to clear up your mess! I went out for the first time in God only knows how long, and you couldn't keep it together, not for one night?' She folded her arms across her chest and gripped the material of her sweatshirt with her shaking hands. How, how could she swan off for a life with Ed or to train as a midwife if this was the chaos that ensued when she was gone?

‘Stop shouting at me!' Her mother placed her face in her hands and took deep breaths.

‘I brought you a glass of water.' Her sweet, sweet nan walked in and hovered by the bedside cabinet, holding the drink out and struggling to find a place to put it down among the detritus littering the surface. Eventually, she nudged an overflowing ashtray to one side and popped the glass next to it. Tawrie knew the glass of water was a prop and that she more than likely had appeared to dilute the tension, head off a row.

‘Thanks.' Annalee, Tawrie noted, avoided Freda's eyeline.

‘Can you tell me what happened last night, Nan?' She wanted not only to hear the detail, but also for her mother to hear it too, as clearly, with a skinful and a fuzzy head, her memory might not be the most reliable.

‘I was asleep and I heard your mum come in. Not too late.' Freda glanced repeatedly at her daughter-in-law, as if aware of humiliating her or breaking a confidence. Despite the dire situation, Tawrie could only admire her misplaced loyalty. ‘I think she fell over. There was a bang. It woke me up and then she started being ill.'

‘Vomiting?'

Her nan nodded.

‘Well, that's nice!' She smiled sarcastically at her mother who continued to hold her head.

‘Please, Tawrie, just . . .'

‘Just what, Mum? Shut up? Stop going on? Or isn't it about now we get to the apology and tears stage? Honest to God, people ask me why I didn't go off and become a midwife and it makes me laugh. How could I go and study? How can I concentrate on anything when my mind is always half here, wondering what you're doing, whether you're safe, if Nan is okay and worrying that she might be having to clean up after you!'

On cue her mother's thin shoulders heaved and fat tears fell down her face.

‘There we are!' she boomed, entirely fed up with the whole circus, the empty apologies, the meaningless tears that she had witnessed time and time again; tears that only a change in behaviour would legitimise. Not that she was holding her breath.

‘I am sorry! I am !' Annalee did her best to shout, as if this might give her words credibility, but her voice was thin.

Freda sat on the side of her bed and to Tawrie's irritation, she saw her reach out to pat her mother's leg over the blanket.

‘I am sorry!' Again, Annalee sobbed.

‘Are you, though? I get you don't give a rat's arse what happens to you and you clearly don't give a shit what effect your boozing has on me, you never have.' She paused to let this sink in. ‘But you should be ashamed of how it affects Nan.' Annalee finally looked at the old woman perched on the mattress. ‘You woke her up and she had to set to, clearing up your sick and whatever else she isn't telling me.' Her nan's look downward suggested this was probably accurate. ‘Picture it, Mum, Nana Freda on her hands and knees in her nightdress, mopping up your wine and vodka sick, the smell of it, the worst job, and she did that for you! Again! Downstairs stinks!'

‘All right, Tawrie.' Her nan spoke firmly and held her gaze. ‘That's enough.'

It was hurtful that her nan even partially seemed to be siding with Annalee, and with high emotion spinning around them, she decided the best thing to do would be to get out of the room and get out of the house. There was no time for a decent swim, not now, not without it making her ridiculously late for work, and that was unfair on Connie. She knew, however, that she had to cycle down to Hele Bay Beach and tell Maudie and Jago that she was okay. Missing her swim for the first time since joining the Peacock Swimmers would only worry them and she cared about them far too much for that.

She did her best not to look at Corner Cottage as she cycled past, didn't want Ed to see her in a state of high agitation, angry all over again that her perfect night had been hijacked by the events waiting for her at Signal House. It was so bloody unfair! Picturing the neat, cosy interior of Ed's house, she wished she could have stayed cocooned inside it, safe in his arms with untested words of affection bouncing off the walls. Despite the dire welcome at home, her spirits lifted at the thought of her new love and all that lay ahead for them. It was impossible not to feel excited, although this was tinged with dread at the thought of having to expose him to her grotty, grotty homelife as far as her mother was concerned.

She wished she could rewind to the point where she'd woken up in the attic room and held on longer to the feeling in her stomach that the world was a wonderful place full of infinite possibilities.

It really had been a perfect night. Time had lost all meaning, as they sat with legs touching, holding hands briefly, his fingers reaching out to move hair from her face, as they laughed and chattered.

‘Taw?' he called after her, and just to hear his voice was enough to send her happiness into cartwheels. She turned on her bike and there he was. Just the sight of him enough for a punch of lust to whack her in the stomach and erase the stench of bleach and dysfunction that lingered in her nostrils. ‘I've been waiting for you to go past on your bike. Do you want me to come with you for your swim? We can chat on the way.'

His keenness to accompany her, to be with her was electric! She couldn't wait to be seen with him, for him to meet Connie, to introduce him to Uncle Sten, for Freda to make him that cuppa. Just as wonderful as the way this crazy, fast, head-spinning love felt was the thought of all they were yet to experience.

‘That's so sweet, but I'm not going to swim, just off to tell Jago and Maudie that I can't make it but that I'm okay. I'm running late.' She pulled a face.

‘And you hate being late.'

‘I really do.' She smiled.

‘Tawrie?'

‘Yes?'

‘I need to tell you my third thing. The third thing you don't know about me.' His smile played nervously about his mouth and he took his time.

‘Go on then, make it quick!' She looked up into the face of the man who had professed his love, and her heart flexed at the mere sight of his mouth moving and the memory of his lips softly grazing her skin.

‘No.' He shook his head. ‘It's not a quick thing or a by-the-way thing, it needs a longer chat. It's important.'

‘Okay, well, after work?' She loved making plans; the thought of another evening spent in his arms was enough to fill her with joy in anticipation of the day and night ahead. This love felt a lot like a secret and one that, she knew, lit her from within.

‘Yes, after work.' He stared at her face, his eyes creased with kindness and something else. Concern? It was to be expected; to have expressed love so quickly, no matter how confident she was of her feelings, left her a little vulnerable, exposed. It had to be the same for him.

‘I'll come knock for you.' She laughed as she pedalled off to find her fellow Peacocks, wondering how it was possible to spend mere minutes in his company and forget entirely that she had just rowed with her mother. It was what he did – made her feel that all was right with the world.