Just for an afternoon. Just for an hour, even. Just to run her fingers across her daughter’s cheek, the way she had on that first morning when their eyes had met and she’d seen the birth of a whole new light.
She’d started drawing again. Constantine and Hilda had both encouraged her. It was the one thing she found tranquil, although she’d never admit that aloud. She was going to buy another sketchpad, maybe later that day if she could shake off the lethargy long enough to force herself out into the sun for a while. For the last week or so, she’d been using an old notepad she’d found in the kitchen drawer. Scooping up a pencil or a biro, whatever was to hand really, she’d sit downstairs with the curtains open long after night fell and sketch out Alice’s face, taking her time to delicately
