Julie could feel the tray of tea wobbling in her shaky
hands. She felt like Mrs Overall without the laughs. The dapper man had turned
out to be Arthur Jones, father of the deceased. Now she thought about it, she
could see the family likeness. The short dark hair, the gaze that seemed to bypass
you, looking into another world that was calmer and serene, but somehow always just
out of reach. It was a world that Julie would have gladly been inside rather
than in this one at this moment.
Julie set the tray down very, very slowly. The tea slid up to
the edge of the periwinkle blue rim and then subsided in a series of ever
decreasing circles.
“Tea,” she announced stating the obvious and secretly hoping
that someone would speak those immortal lines ‘shall I be mother?’ But no-one
did.
She looked at the woman. The woman was holding the photo
frame of the Happy Couple and gently sobbing.
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