It was his favourite time of the week, and just for a moment Janet dared to look at the now empty chair that stared back at her from across the room. ... memory of him, sitting there with his eyes closed, totally absorbed in the music came to her. She took a deep breath, flexed her fingers and began to play a piece by Debussy that she knew by heart. Perhaps that would get her into it again. Her articulation was a little stilted to begin with, but after a moment or two her fingers loosened-up and. A single tear fell. It stained the white and pink cheeks of the material. Another joined it. And another. The spot was growing. Spreading. Just like the cancer that had stolen Nana away. A final stitch and she held the little dress up once more. ‘It’s beautiful,’ his voice was rough as he placed his large hands on her shoulders. ‘Perfect.’ He knew just the right words to say. He always had. ‘May I?’ he asked as he held out his hand. Reluctantly she handed it over to him. She fought to release. More

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