‘Here,’ she said brusquely, trying to keep the rising emotion out of her voice, ‘put these on, and I’ll show you to your room.’
Once there, she showed the girl her new clothes and where to put them, sat her down and brushed her hair at the dressing table, then stood back and had another look. Watching the girl’s face in the mirror, she noted with relief that her habitual moue had vanished, but what it was replaced by caught her by the throat like a vice. She had never before seen such timid, open vulnerability. The girl’s eyes were a deep black and looked very large, wide, and utterly without guile.
‘Come,’ she said, setting the brush down. ‘We’ll go down and have a snack, and watch the telly for a while before bed.’
When they reached the den, where her husband sat on the sofa, asleep, an open book on his lap, and her various children lay on the plush carpet in front of the television, Marion was thoroughly unsurprised and fully expecting David’s reaction to the girl’s appearance. Her daughters were, of course, completely oblivious.
‘Davie, come to the kitchen a moment. I’d like a word with you.’ She ushered the girl to where the others sprawled and urged her to do the same.