numerous layers of coats and woollies, scarves, mitts, elasticized waists, cuffs, and neck bands. Her outer coat was so thick that her arms were forced unnaturally away from her sides at forty-five-degree angles to her body. A red face peered out at me through swathes of nylon parka fur.
“Coming out to play? It’s nearly stopped snowing,” she chirped at me.
I looked at Mum, and she nodded, as happy to see Sam as I was.
I submitted to the swaddling routine and trotted nervously out into the back garden with Sam, leaving Mum slumped on a stool at the breakfast bar with a steaming cup of black tea.
It was a bit like seeing the ocean for the first time ever—scary to begin with, and then completely exhilarating when you got used to it. I noticed with surprise that despite the chilly flakes on my face, I felt much warmer outside than I had earlier in the sitting room.
I looked at the orange nose and black eyes in my hands.
“Do you know how to do snowmen? ”
Sam shook her head. “Like sand castles? ”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But we haven’t got a spade.”
“And it’s a bit cold, isn’t it, snow? ”
Sam pointed at the frost sparkling on a tree branch above our heads.
“Let’s do dancing instead, like at a ball. We can pretend that the tree is the chand- liere —you know, the big lampshade things they have with candles and stuff.”
I had no idea what she was talking about but obligingly dropped my carrot and coal, reached one gloved hand around her waist, and pressed the other woolly mitt against hers. We waltzed clumsily around the garden, trying to step in a fresh patch of snow at every twirl.
“I think Mummy’s going Fattypuff again,” I said.
Sam nodded knowingly but changed the subject. “Oh, dear. Who are you going to be today? I’m going to be Valerie Singleton.”
I considered for a minute as we trod the light fantastic. The garden seemed much bigger when it was all white, with no edges.
“Sandie Shaw, but I call her Shelley Beach. She’s a singer, you know. I really like that song she does about church fetes.”
Sam nodded again, equally knowingly. “Yes. That’s my favorite, too.”
We did a few more circuits of the lawn, dancing further and further out until we were almost at next door’s fence and our footprints had claimed every bit of pure snow.
Mum opened the back door and stuck her head out. “Keep off my flower beds, you girls, or you’ll squash my crocuses!”
MAKING AMENDS
T HERE WAS A TAP AT THE DOOR. GRACE, THE NICEST NURSE, STUCK her head in. “Are you up for a visitor, Helena?”
“Who is it?”
“It’s Toby Middleton. He’s asking to see you.”
I hesitated. Time to mend a few bridges. “Okay.”
I reached for my dark glasses and hastily smeared a slick of Burt’s Bees lip gloss over my chapped and bumpy lips. Funny how there was once a time when I wouldn’t let anyone see me without extensive makeup. That all seemed kind of pointless now.
Toby sidled into the room, alone. “Hello,” he said nervously.
“Hi,” I replied. “Please sit down.”
“Thanks. Oh, hey, you aren’t lisping! And your teeth look great.”
“Thanks.”
He sat and waited for the apology we both knew he was due. Inwardly, I commended his courage—a lesser man wouldn’t have risked another ear-bashing. But I supposed if your wife was in a coma, you didn’t really care about getting abused by a battered old harridan like me.
“Listen, I’m really, really sorry about what I said before. You’re not a scumbag or anything, of course you aren’t, and thank you so much for the card and the daisies, you really shouldn’t have, after I behaved so appallingly. I feel like a total shit, with your wife so ill and stuff.… How is she? ”
“Still the same, but thanks for asking. I wanted to apologize to you, too. I think we both felt a bit vulnerable that day. I should have been honest with you from the start.”
Toby took off his glasses and polished them on his
“Coming out to play? It’s nearly stopped snowing,” she chirped at me.
I looked at Mum, and she nodded, as happy to see Sam as I was.
I submitted to the swaddling routine and trotted nervously out into the back garden with Sam, leaving Mum slumped on a stool at the breakfast bar with a steaming cup of black tea.
It was a bit like seeing the ocean for the first time ever—scary to begin with, and then completely exhilarating when you got used to it. I noticed with surprise that despite the chilly flakes on my face, I felt much warmer outside than I had earlier in the sitting room.
I looked at the orange nose and black eyes in my hands.
“Do you know how to do snowmen? ”
Sam shook her head. “Like sand castles? ”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But we haven’t got a spade.”
“And it’s a bit cold, isn’t it, snow? ”
Sam pointed at the frost sparkling on a tree branch above our heads.
“Let’s do dancing instead, like at a ball. We can pretend that the tree is the chand- liere —you know, the big lampshade things they have with candles and stuff.”
I had no idea what she was talking about but obligingly dropped my carrot and coal, reached one gloved hand around her waist, and pressed the other woolly mitt against hers. We waltzed clumsily around the garden, trying to step in a fresh patch of snow at every twirl.
“I think Mummy’s going Fattypuff again,” I said.
Sam nodded knowingly but changed the subject. “Oh, dear. Who are you going to be today? I’m going to be Valerie Singleton.”
I considered for a minute as we trod the light fantastic. The garden seemed much bigger when it was all white, with no edges.
“Sandie Shaw, but I call her Shelley Beach. She’s a singer, you know. I really like that song she does about church fetes.”
Sam nodded again, equally knowingly. “Yes. That’s my favorite, too.”
We did a few more circuits of the lawn, dancing further and further out until we were almost at next door’s fence and our footprints had claimed every bit of pure snow.
Mum opened the back door and stuck her head out. “Keep off my flower beds, you girls, or you’ll squash my crocuses!”
MAKING AMENDS
T HERE WAS A TAP AT THE DOOR. GRACE, THE NICEST NURSE, STUCK her head in. “Are you up for a visitor, Helena?”
“Who is it?”
“It’s Toby Middleton. He’s asking to see you.”
I hesitated. Time to mend a few bridges. “Okay.”
I reached for my dark glasses and hastily smeared a slick of Burt’s Bees lip gloss over my chapped and bumpy lips. Funny how there was once a time when I wouldn’t let anyone see me without extensive makeup. That all seemed kind of pointless now.
Toby sidled into the room, alone. “Hello,” he said nervously.
“Hi,” I replied. “Please sit down.”
“Thanks. Oh, hey, you aren’t lisping! And your teeth look great.”
“Thanks.”
He sat and waited for the apology we both knew he was due. Inwardly, I commended his courage—a lesser man wouldn’t have risked another ear-bashing. But I supposed if your wife was in a coma, you didn’t really care about getting abused by a battered old harridan like me.
“Listen, I’m really, really sorry about what I said before. You’re not a scumbag or anything, of course you aren’t, and thank you so much for the card and the daisies, you really shouldn’t have, after I behaved so appallingly. I feel like a total shit, with your wife so ill and stuff.… How is she? ”
“Still the same, but thanks for asking. I wanted to apologize to you, too. I think we both felt a bit vulnerable that day. I should have been honest with you from the start.”
Toby took off his glasses and polished them on his
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