She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. “Here goes for the new life!” “Here goes for the new life,” he echoed and stood up. He was waiting in the outer hall as she tiptoed in. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. “I don’t have time for this. Ah! I shall never forget the figure Jack cut on that occasion. She had omitted that the flu had been called the Black Death and that it was a dead child that had been inside that womb, so many hundreds of years ago. Fortunately, I've secured the proof of my birth.
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