26
A young girl, maybe six or seven years old, tugged on her mother’s sleeve and pointed.
“Who’s that lady, mummy?”
Her mother, deep in conversation on her video phone, tried to ignore her daughter.
“Sssh. Mummy’s talking to her friend.”
The little girl was insistent, and wouldn’t be ignored.
“There’s a strange lady, mummy. There’s lots of her.”
The child’s mother knew that her daughter, like all children of her age, had superhuman powers of endurance and wouldn’t stop tugging on her sleeve and interrupting her until she paid the girl the attention she craved. She addressed the screen of her phone.
“I’m sorry, Cleo. I’d better see what she wants. I’ll get no peace until I do.”
Sarah turned to her daughter.
“What is it, Sienna?”
Sienna pointed at the street before them. It was fu
