When Terence laughed, Gladys smiled at him. She didn't really mind that none of her grandchildren had thought to mention the journals to her - they were used to her living a certain way, and it probably didn't occur to them even at this age that they could teach her anything new. "I do know now," she agreed. "And I can show everybody pictures of Dennis." She was very pleased by the idea, because she certainly had quite a number of photos she considered worth sharing. "It's a shame photograph don't make sound," she mused. "Next year, he'll be able to sing you Happy Birthday in Welsh." Or, perhaps, Happy Birthday in English-French-Welsh.
Gladys listened as they walked, nodding and giving Terence's arm a little squeeze when he mentioned the support group. "I'm glad," she said, not a hint of amusement for once when she used the word so similar to her own name, "that you're taking steps, and letting people help you." Gladys thought those were probably the most important things, because then even if you tried something that didn't help, you could always try something else. "Things will get better," she assured him. "And if I can do anything to make it better, you let me know. You're still living with your quidditch friend?"
Once they reached the seafront, Gladys steered Terence towards her favourite ice cream shop. "The only one?" she asked, surprised as she thought of the half dozen people she knew who'd been through a divorce at some point. She clucked. "You're so young. Anyway, of course I can give you a name or two. Shall I ask around or do you just want the woman I used?"