The house was now nothing but an empty building. The removal men had been thorough and nothing remained to show anything of the family that for years had lived in the house at the foot of the beck. Nancy knew she should go now or she would never get to her new home before dark, but still she lingered; for a final time she climbed the stairs and wandered through the empty bedrooms, her footsteps echoing on the bare floorboards.

First was the room she had slept in as a girl. The view was little changed since those days, though the silver water of the lake was scored by many more motor boats than before. She opened the window to see better. In the distance the little town they had called Rio looked the same as ever with the eastern fells rising beyond it in a purple haze.

Nancy leaned on the sill and looked down. The creeper and its trellis that once formed a convenient means of entry and exit via the window were still there, though it was doubtful it would bear her weight now though.

Slowly Nancy visited each room in turn. In her mind's eye she could see images from the past; here she and her sister Peggy had pinned a large skull and crossbones over the guest bed, ready for a visit by Dick and Dorothea. There she had bundled up her wet bathing costume, hiding it from the Great Aunt after a nocturnal visit to the Dog's Home.

Descending the uncarpeted stairs she looked in the room that once had been her uncle's study, and smiled to herself at the memories of the armadillo's hutch they had made for Timothy. No-one expected Timothy to be a person! After Uncle Jim's death, in one of the last flying bomb raids on London, the room had remained unchanged for several years, a memento of a life well lived. Finally her mother had turned it into a cosy sitting room, with many of souvenirs of her brother's travels on display.

Next she came to the big dining room where she and Peggy had often sat at the table making plans for adventures and where later they had gathered with the Swallows and the Ds to enjoy great feasts prepared by cook.

Cook also was long gone, her rheumatism, which had troubled her for several years, had finally become too much to bear and she had moved to Morecombe to spend her final years sharing a bungalow with her sister.

Nancy walked out through the front door for the last time, closing it softly behind her before turning the key in the lock. The car and its young driver were still waiting in the old stable yard.

"I'm just going down to the boathouse," she called to the driver.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, I'd rather be alone, thank you."

"Don't be long, we told the estate agents we would drop off the key before they closed this afternoon."

"Jib-booms and bobstays! Don't fuss so, there's plenty of time."

The driver sighed and returned to reading the newspaper he brought with him.

Nancy took a route across the lawn, the unkempt grass catching on her shoes. The battle against daisies had long been lost, and the white and yellow flowers were joined by dandelions, buttercups and speedwell in colourful profusion.

The door to the boat house was stiff and Nancy had to use all her strength to force it open. Inside dark water glittered in a shaft of sunlight from the open door. Nancy sat on the rough bench inside and took a piece of cloth from her handbag. As she turned it over in her hands she contemplated all the fun she had had since Uncle Jim had taught her the skills to handle the rowing boat that had always been kept here.

At first she and Peggy had explored the lower reaches of the river, which they had called "The Amazon". As they grew in strength and ability they had been allowed to voyage further afield, landing on lakeside stony beaches for picnics and learning the art of lighting a fire and cooking on it. Gradually they had explored the lake and the surrounding fells, encouraged by their uncle, and worried about by their mother. A major milestone had been the first time they had been permitted to camp alone on Wild Cat Island.

Then came the momentous day when they had been presented with the sailing dinghy which they promptly named Amazon, and spent the remainder of that summer learning to sail her.

After that every spare moment was spent on the water. Uncle Jim had taught them the basics of sailing and then left them to learn by trial and error how to get the best from Amazon in all conditions. Nancy shuddered at the memory of some of the foolhardy scrapes they got themselves into, but no-one was seriously hurt and they learned a lot.

Then they met the Swallows and a whole new dimension was added to their adventures. Six young sailors and two boats had created competition and cooperation between them and was so much more fun. How sick she had been that these newcomers had beaten her in the "war" of that first summer. Nancy reluctantly admitted that John was probably a better sailor technically but she knew the lake and its moods better than any. Then came Dick and Dorothea, and Nancy had been able to show off her abilities to these two who had no previous knowledge of boats and things nautical. But all too soon the carefree days of childhood had ended.

The long months and years of the war had taken her away from the lake. When she returned she tried to recapture the sense of freedom those earlier summers had given, but it was never the same. Peggy and John married and settled into family life and they visited her whenever they could but the Navy moved John around the world, and as a dutiful wife Peggy went with him.

She sometimes wondered what might have been if she and John had kept up the relationship that had developed during their times together, but the Navy and her own stupidity had separated them. Chance had then thrown Peggy and John together and they had formed an enduring bond. Determined not to be a typical maiden aunt Nancy had welcomed the next generation and helped those children have the freedom and adventures she had enjoyed herself.

Now Beckfoot was sold to a couple who were planning to turn the old house into a Bed and Breakfast establishment. Yes, it was time to move on.

o – o – O – o – o

Back in the yard the driver had finished reading his newspaper and folded it carefully before placing it in his briefcase. After checking his watch he got out and followed Nancy's earlier route across the lawn to the boathouse.

"Aunt Nancy!" he called, "Look at the time. We really must be going!"

No answering hail came from within the dark interior

"Bother the woman," he muttered under his breath. "I knew it would take her ages to say goodbye to the old place." He was very fond of his Great Aunt, but she could be exasperating at times.

Entering the boathouse it took his eyes a moment to become accustomed to the gloom. Then he saw her, slumped on the bench.

"Aunt Nancy, are you alright?" he asked anxiously.

He took her hand. It was cold and lifeless.

Frantically he searched her wrist for a pulse.

Nothing.

In haste and hope he tried the other wrist.

Again, nothing.

His Great Aunt had slipped away from the world in this cool peaceful place.

As he released the wrist his fingers brushed against a piece of cloth she was holding. Thinking it a handkerchief, he took it to wipe away the tears that had formed in his eyes.

He turned to go back to the car and call for an ambulance, or a doctor. Who should you call first in a case like this? As he emerged into the late afternoon light he realised he was still holding the cloth he had picked up. It was not a handkerchief, but a small triangular flag, once black, but now faded to a purplish grey and featuring a grinning skull and cross bones.

A/N: I wrote this in an afternoon while feeling very low, having heard my mother was in hospital and very poorly. Somehow writing this made it easier to contemplate a personal loss.