The next morning, burdened with an armful of flowers, Jeanne picked her way through the graves at St Saviours Church. It was completely still and peaceful. The church was quite high up, providing far-reaching views over the fields to the sea. Jeanne sighed as she trod carefully past ancient stones, thinking what an idyllic place to be buried, the quintessence of ‘Rest In Peace’.
Some of the more recent graves displayed splashes of colour from fresh flowers while others bore the dying sticks of blooms brought weeks or even months ago. Jeanne vowed that while she was on the island she would bring fresh flowers weekly. The sight of the dried-up, colourless skeletons was so depressing.
It took a while for her to find her parents’ grave with its beautifully polished black granite headstone standing proudly and protectively at the head.
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