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She was getting used to Grove House. By the second week of her placement, she’d developed a routine, and at the end of every lunchtime she went to William. He was always happy to see her, especially when prompted with her name. “Zara! Hee, hee.” Always the double slash in the air. She supposed it was the Z that amused him. There weren’t many Zs in the names of women his age. After the chaos of her morning’s encounters, it was a relief to sit with William and look at photographs. Remnants of sticky tape hung off the corners of some of the pictures, but William treated them all with reverence. His brother; their legion of cousins; Nanny Kipling; a spaniel pup called Sniffer. “Lovely,” said the girl. Here was a beaming woman, holding a child bundled in white. “That’s my sister, Rose,” said William. “Have you a sister?” she said. “Really? You’ve never told me that.” “Oh, yes. And the baby is my niece, Betty. Rose is a nurse, now.” He’d mixed up the names. It was baby Betty who must be the nurse, of course. Even she would be thinking about retirement. “I might want to be a nurse,” the girl began. “If I don’t get into university. What do you think?” “Not a bit of it,” said William. “I’m a nurse in here, and it’s dreadful.” She’d stayed too late again. It was nearly time for her bus. She said goodbye and walked away, William waving cheerfully behind her. She tried hard not to feel that he’d let her down. -theincubatorjournal.com