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hand both inviting her to
get on with her errand and
dismissing the child at the
same time.
Amanda went to inspect
the artificial flowers first.
The ones inside the shop
were somewhat forlorn,
the fabrics used to make
these were dull; brown
tweeds and grey and dark-
blue gabardine. As objects
they still possessed some
charm, but lacked the
bright triumphant beauty
of the ones in the window.
Amanda was surprised by
this and now understood
why only the best ones
with the richest fabrics
took pride of place in the
window.
She went to look at these
next and saw with delight
that not only were they
just as beautiful close up
as they had seemed from
afar, but the different
fabrics of each leaf and
petal brought back distant
memories of life before
the war, before her mama
became ill. The flower-
printed crepe, the shiny
sky-blue satin, the baby-
pink silk and paisley swirls
and deep red velvets and
gold brocades all seemed
to conjure school friends’
parties and her mother’s
and aunt’s beautiful ball
gowns and shawls.
Amanda glanced up at her
bedroom window once
more and saw her doll on
the ledge between the
curtains. She wondered
which flowers took the
doll’s interest, but as she
could not tell the precise
direction of the glass-eyed
gaze, Amanda resorted
to
make-believe,
and
imagined the doll was
staring pointedly at four
pink and white flowers
which had been arranged