 ~ Mrs. Steve Harrington ~ It be like that sometimes.
The flowers certainly helped to improve Helena’s mood. They weren’t the only thing that helped overall: her memory was improving! Yes, there were snatches here and there at times when she was least expecting them, or there were recollections that came when she tried hard enough to remember her past while at other times the recollections were triggered by the smell of a rose or the mouthwatering aroma of a treacle tart.
Helena, at the moment, was busy tending to her little collection of flowers. Hearing her daughter’s voice, she turned away from the vase. “I’m awake, Violet,’’ Helena called, turning to face the door. A visitor? Who could it be? Surely not her father?
It was true, Helena’s appearance was still sunken and gaunt but she was doing her best to improve. At least her hair was neatly kept today in a bun. While her visitor proved not to be her father {thankfully}, Helena stood there frowning. “I know you,’’ the words came forth slowly. But how did she know this woman? Helena frowned in concentration in an attempt to place this face. |