Essence of a Memory

Mum: Red-lipped, pearly-nailed, smouldering cigarette in ashtray, Mum vamped the upright piano, never in the corner. Tomorrow was always Que Sera, Sera. French-pleated, frilly-aproned, marabou-muled laughing she’d croon and clean her home in Carolina, for the only boy in the world. She was the bright soundtrack to our lives. By Finola Scott