Sorcha was thinking of her ‘A’ level exams in the summer. She really wanted to go to university; find herself. She stirred the gravy as her mother moved around the kitchen, busy. Last night Mum had spent an age on the food, this morning longer.
‘What do you think?’ her mother eventually said.
‘Are we done?’
‘Yes, I’ll tell your dad we’re ready to eat.’
Continue readingHer body shook, her legs trembled, her nerves were precious plates in unsteady hands about to fall to the floor. She must somehow keep a lid on it all.
A medic in a white coat came out. The crowd waiting in A & E became alert. ‘Angela Phillips?’ the white coat said. ‘That’s me,’ she mumbled and they all stared at her, a sick, grey-haired woman
‘This way,’ she was told. Fifty pairs of eyes followed her out of the cramped room.
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