"
"Can you describe yours at all?"
"Hardly. It was just a feeling of Presence. A sense of her being
there. It came at all sorts of times and in all sorts of places. We
lived in Vancouver when mother died. It was a much smaller town
then, not like the city you have seen. But after her death we moved
about a great deal, never staying very long anywhere, until we came
here. There were--experiences." Her eyes hardened. "But, as long as
I had that sense I am speaking of, I was safe. I used to have long
crying fits in the dark, a kind of blind terror of everything. And
after one of them it nearly always came. I never questioned it.
Never once did I ask myself, 'Is it mother?'. I just knew that it
was. There seemed nothing unusual about it."
"Was there no one, no woman, to take care of you?"
"There were--women." Desire's lips tightened into a thin red line.
"We did not travel alone. Once I remember terrifying a--a friend of
father's who was 'looking after' me. She heard me crying in my
little, dark room one night, and as soon as she could slip away,
came in. She was a kindly sort. But when she got there I was quite
content and happy--which surprised her much more than the crying had
done. She asked me what had 'shut me up,' and I said 'My mother is
here--go away.' She turned quite pasty-white and the candle shook so
that the hot grease fell upon my hands."
"What a life for a child!" exclaimed Spence in sudden rage.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97