“She had come home from Vivian’s six months earlier and still acted like she did not know Nellie at all. ‘She has forgotten who I am,’ Nellie had said over breakfast when Birdie sat eating her porridge in silence. George, trying to find something positive in the stand-off between mother and child, said Birdie was a bright kid to know how to upset her mother so well. ‘Will I be going home soon?’ asked Birdie, rattling her spoon in her bowl, kicking her legs against the chair rung. ‘This is home,’... Nellie said. Birdie shook her head. ‘I want my real home.’ She frowned, as if she thought Nellie was having problems understanding her. She was a small, elfin child. Her voice sounded uncannily like Vivian’s. ‘I want Auntie Vivian,’ she said. ‘Please. Please may I have Auntie Vivian?’ She threw her spoon across the room. How could a four-year-old child with a pursed mouth and a way of folding her arms make Nellie, a grown-up, feel this wounded? Nellie picked up the spoon and put it in the sink.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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