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IV
When her rehabilitation period had ended, Anthea was discharged.
Her mother told her that nothing had changed. She was still Anthea.
She still lived in the same house with the same bedroom. Maybe she
was right – her house never changed; but her home had. She had
even begun to forget the colour of the sky.
She tried to be strong, she really did. Anthea held back the tears
until her mother guided her to the sea by their house. The sand was
as soft as ever beneath her feet and the scent of the ocean beckoned
her. That was when the floodgates broke. Anthea’s mother sat her
down and hushed her. After a while, she painted for her like old
times. “The sun is setting right now. You can only see half of it
peeking over the ocean.”
“What colour is the ocean?”
“The same colour as a blue primula.”
“And the sky?”
“It’s orange, yellow, purple, pink and blue. It’s beautiful, but not
quite as beautiful as you.”
“And today is…?”
“Wednesday.”
Anthea smiled as she remembered. Stunning sights like this had
always spoken to her. Now they had a voice.
‘
Wednesday
9