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“Now through her aching, Helen felt a flicker of peace as though Mum was there, placing a hand on Helen’s shoulder and saying, “Come now. The world is always a brighter place on a full stomach. Help me—it will go faster that way.” In the stillness of the kitchen they used to work, Helen’s light hair and Mum’s dark bent over the bowl. Mum would not prod or fill the silence with chatter, but used the recipe to call Helen back to herself. She would pop a currant into her daughter’s mouth, or gently instruct her to smell the cinnamon, and for Helen, the world would come into focus.” — Corinne Beenfield
Now through her aching, Helen felt a flicker of peace as though Mum was there, placing a hand on Helen’s shoulder and saying, “Come now. The world is always a brighter place on a full stomach. Help me—it will go faster that way.” In the stillness of the kitchen they used to work, Helen’s light hair and Mum’s dark bent over the bowl. Mum would not prod or fill the silence with chatter, but used the recipe to call Helen back to herself. She would pop a currant into her daughter’s mouth, or gently instruct her to smell the cinnamon, and for Helen, the world would come into focus.