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Jill was with her bees again, carefully checking the new cells that were nurturing the next generation of queens. How quickly life passes, she thought. I'm the old queen, Ruth is the new one and - gosh, Pip will be next, I suppose. Or Josh's wife - and she laughed at the thought of her grandson grown up and married. There was plenty of time, after all.

"Gran?"

She turned at the sound of the hesitant voice. "Don't come too close, Josh. Oh, Pip, dear, it's you."

"Gran? Can I - can I talk to you?" and with that Pip burst into tears. Hurrying over to put her arm round the sobbing girl, Jill thought how young she still looked, and her heart turned over at the thought that something had made her so unhappy.

In a few minutes Jill finished with the bees and sat down with her granddaughter. The story came tumbling out. How Jude was going away to the States for months, a year even, how he didn't want Pip to come with him, it was over and she couldn't bear it.

"There, there," murmured Jill. "No, I won't tell Mum or Dad. Now let me just say goodbye to the bees and you can come back to the bungalow and spend the evening with me.

"You know, all my children had their hearts broken when they were young. Yes, even your dad!" and she smiled to see Pip manage a damp giggle at the thought. And she would have swung for any of the stinkers who'd hurt them, she remembered. She walked back to the bees, deep in thought, then bent down and whispered something outside the hives.

***

A couple of weeks later, the Brookfield family was watching the evening news. Pip was gradually getting back into being what her father thought of as "the old Pip" and was secretly quite enjoying the company of her family - even the boys, if they didn't ask questions about Jude. That was still enough to make her rush out of the room, to their delight, of course.

"Eeeuurrghhhh!" shouted Ben, shaking her out of a short mope. "Josh, you better be careful! Look! Killer bees on the news!"

"… in the mid-west states of America", the reporter was saying. "Amazingly, there has been only one fatality, a British man aged 29 who was on a road trip to California. He has not yet been named."

In the bungalow, Jill flicked the remote control. That was enough doom and gloom, she thought.

Amazing things, bees. Such extraordinary non-verbal communication. And you can talk to them about anything. Especially a death. Though usually, she admitted, after it had happened. Not before.