Zoë got to the phone before Judith, which was just as well. “Hello, Auntie,” she said, with joy. The room lightened, so buttonlike bright was she. “You can’t speak to Mummy right now.”
Judith raised her eyebrows.
“She’s angry.” A silence. “Oh, not at you. And it is not that note or Nick or anything. We’re all good. It’s the other people who ring. We had lots of phone calls this week and everybody called her ‘Mrs’. She got madder than anything. It’s fun. She said she’s not going to answer the phone for a week.”
It’s fun? My daughter thinks I’m a source of amusement? If she weren’t my one and only daughter I would damn her pink scrunchie. It would fade and shred thread.
It’s fun? My daughter thinks I’m a source of amusement? If she weren’t my one and only daughter I would damn her pink s
