The Advent of Christine

When Christine entered the roomy kitchen and drew up a chair on the yellow floor tiles, she had only a hazy notion how she would tell what she had in mind. She had just had a shower, dressed herself and felt right as rain that Saturday morning. She put a spoonful of sugar in the cup of tea, which her mother had put on the table for her. “Mum, could I have a word in your ear?” She had not noticed that her mother was already all ears standing there, near the sink. “Mum, this year I would like to...