Dorothea puts the album away in the box. ‘She seems to have stopped creating albums at this point. Albums suggest optimism, don’t they? As though everything’s been positive and is going to be positive in the future. I mean, you compose wedding albums but you’d not make a funeral album.’
‘It all seems very old-fashioned to me. We just like to let life flow by.’
‘Yes, you’re very. . . what was that expression you used?’
‘Laid-back?’
‘Yes, laid-back. That’s fine if you live in the sunshine.’
‘I’m not so laid-back, Mum. I had a story accepted.’
Dorothea turns enthusiastically towards her. ‘Oh, darling, I’m so pleased. Accepted where?’
‘Well, it’s a sort of underground paper. It’s called Chelsea Voice, but it’s not just Chelsea, London, it’s Chelsea, New York too. Kind of hip underground. They don’t pay but you get tickets to concerts. Lots of people want to write for it.’
‘That’s wonderful, darling. What’s it about?’
‘It’s about the current art scene in London. It’s cyclostyled, you know, not printed in the conventional way, cyclostyling is the way of the future.’
‘I can’t wait to read it.’ She opens the largest yellow envelope. ‘Oh look, lots more photographs. Grandmother at home, I think that must be. And this is Cousin Edward, in uniform, very dashing.’ She sighs. ‘Edward tried so hard. . .’