Chapter 9: The Recital

I did not take the bag.

"Congratulations," I said. "That's for your baby."

"Fenella, it's yellow wool. It's for Poppy to give."

"Then Poppy can decide, with me there, when she's ready."

Lorna's smile shifted a little, and came back.

"Of course," she said. "Garner and I will be at her recital on Saturday."

She tilted her head.

"I hope you'll be gracious in front of the children."

She went down the steps and along the walk.

I closed the door and leaned on it.

I had told Torsten I wasn't waiting for anyone. It was strange how much I wanted him to have heard that.

The recital was at the community music school, in a hall with a low stage and a black piano.

Poppy wore the yellow dress again, because she had asked.

She had practiced her piece for six weeks, a slow little waltz, and she had practiced it harder since the party.

I sat in the second row with Maeve.

The front row was already full.

Garner sat in the middle of it in a navy suit.

The boy sat on one side of him and the girl on the other.

Lorna sat on the aisle in a cream dress, one hand on her stomach.

She turned and waved to me.

Torsten came in at the last minute and took the seat beside mine.

"Poppy asked me on Tuesday," he said quietly. "In the driveway."

"You have a split lip."

"I have a nice shirt on, too."

He did. It was blue.

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