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I’d first met Bridie when she gave a talk at my local library. Not that I’d had any interest in hydroponic agriculture. I’d just needed an excuse to escape my parents.
A tall athletic figure in jeans and a checked shirt, Bridie strode to the lectern. Her face was alive, her voice expressive. If she had notes, she didn’t refer to them. Not once. Afterwards, other people clamoured to ask questions, which she answered with skill and humour. I bought Bridie’s book, and rehearsed my own question while I waited in the queue.
Finally, my turn. My words tumbled out as I handed Bridie the book to sign. She smiled, appraising me frankly with her sapphire blue eyes. ‘That’s a very perceptive observation.’ I felt myself blush. She offered me a business card. ‘If you’d like to know more, please get in touch.’
I floated home, the book tucked under my arm and the business card warm in my hand.
‘Did you have a good time?’ demanded my mother as soon as I stepped through the door.
‘Yes, thanks.’
I felt her eyes on my back as I fled to my room. I was twenty-three, for goodness sake. I didn’t need her fluttering around me all the time.
