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All good things took place at the library.
Matilda used to live six blocks away from Mrs Phelps's library. She would make the journey on her own two little feet, six years old, five, even four, carrying as many books as her tiny body could endure. On a good day, the pile of books would be as tall as she was.
She lived a whole bus ride away now, all the way from Jenny's big house on a hill, but then, she wasn't alone anymore. Jenny helped her carry the books, made good conversation, and the ride felt very short and pleasant in her company. They didn't borrow as many as she had used to either, simply because there was a big room in that big house where all the walls were book shelves. To Matilda, it felt like every story in the world was at hand's reach right at home. Jenny still liked to indulge her to the library, however, and so they made a trip of it every Saturday afternoon.
The rain had caught them by surprise today. A bubbly thin drizzle on their walk to the bus stop, nothing to worry about, it turned thick and heavy as Matilda stared out the window from the bus, tracing each drop's path with her fingertips against the foggy glass pane. By the time they got out, it had become a curtain of messy and uncomfortable wetness drenching Matilda to the bones. Jenny gently but firmly grabbed her hand and through the deafening thrum of the outpour, whispered into her ear.
"Race to the library?"
Matilda only had to give her one glance, see the playfulness in those large blue eyes so different from the woman she used to call her mum, and the race was on. Giggling, panting, they made a short way of it. Their hands were still tightly clasped together by the time they pushed the large comforting wooden doors to the library open. Matilda loved the chiming of the bells at their entrance, like the first note of a beautiful symphony she knew by heart. Breathless and beaming with joy, Jenny helped Matilda out of her soaked things.
There was a tenderness about her that still amazed Matilda and caught her off guard often as not. Even after all this time, months and months later, there was something about the softness of her hands and smiles and intentions. It had been easy to get used to a threatening terrible dad, a neglectful unpleasant mum, a lurking bullying brother, but the constant stream of kindness pouring out of Jenny, out of her real mum, took much longer for her to come to expect it. Matilda was not sure if the transition had been made easier, or rather harder in its unbelievableness by Jenny's doubled and attentive efforts to mend everything her former family had so tried to break.
"Is this alright?" Jenny asked, fussing with Matilda's collar. She knew Matilda couldn't stand the feel of wet fabric. "Oh, I should have looked up the weather, look at you now…"
Matilda shook the drops off her shirt and her hair as best as she could. Her neck was uncomfortable and she wished she had her better boots on, but she smiled and Jenny's fretting slowed down.
"I'm fine, mum. It's just water."
Finally Jenny relented and hung their coats by the entrance. They still had a special spot. The library still felt like home.
"Matilda!" came the very familiar voice of Mrs Phelps, soon accompanied by the pleasant weight of a hand on her shoulder. "And Miss Honey. How lucky that you have come."
There was a special smile about Miss Honey, about Jenny, about her mum when people showed her kindness. She never seemed to expect it, and so the surprise was always a treat.
"I was afraid you would miss it," Mrs Phelps went on. "My niece Keisha is reading stories all afternoon and I know how much Matilda loves stories…"
"That sounds lovely, Mrs Phelps," Jenny replied politely, looking at Matilda to check how the idea appealed to her.
Matilda looked up at her, then at Mrs Phelps’ smile, and nodded.
“Yes, I love stories.”
Matilda realized only sentences into the first story they caught that she had heard it before. Indeed, looking at the book in the hand of Mrs Phelps’s niece, she remembered the title well. It had been a favorite of hers when she was four. But next to her was Jenny and the bright joy on her face at the reading, surely helped by how much she loved when children showed a love for books, was enough to keep Matilda quiet on her seat. Stories were like old friends, she reminded herself. And she caught up with the familiar words the way she would with a school mate.
It helped that Keisha was an excellent reader. Her face animated with every plot twist and she made special voices for all the characters, even the minor ones, even for the narration. Even having read the stories before, Matilda listened to this whole new take and appreciated them, she thought, more thoroughly. Every child was fascinated with her reading and with her. She was, after all, very handsome. Not beautiful like her mum, but then no one else was, she had a very specific, fresh kind of beauty. There was a particular confidence about her that made Matilda trust her − all the more because she trusted anyone who had a love for books.
She turned to whisper to Jenny just how much fun she was having and how impressed she was but just as she looked up at her, she realized that her mum was so deeply engrossed in the storytelling that she ought not to distract her. In fact, she had an expression on her face that Matilda had never seen before. It was admiration, interest, and something else Matilda couldn't decipher. Her eyes were wide with it, whatever it was, and her mouth was slightly open. She was not looking at the children. She wasn't looking at anyone but the reader.
Matilda couldn't focus on the stories anymore. Her eyes kept glancing back and forth between Jenny and Keisha, both of them so absorbed in the stories though, she was beginning to realize, for wholly different reasons. The vibe about Keisha, like she could take on the world and fight all bullies, but get you home and cook you a warm meal afterwards. Matilda liked her without having even talked to her. Not yet. Politely, she stood up and joined Mrs Phelps, who was putting books back into their shelves in the next room over.
"So, did you enjoy the stories, Matilda?" Mrs Phelps asked.
Her hair was a dark cloud around her cheerful kind face, her clothes a whole concerto of colors. She smelled like crisp flowers and old books.
"Oh, yes, they were wonderful," she said, sitting down next to her and helping her sort the books as Mrs Phelps hummed knowingly. She glanced back at the group. All the other children were still listening. Jenny was still listening. "Mrs Phelps, is your niece married?"
There was a pause, then Mrs Phelps grabbed a few more books and put them back on the lower shelves.
"No," she replied in an even voice. "No, Matilda, she's not married."
Matilda took that as an open door.
"Does she want to get married?"
Mrs Phelps threw her a brief glance that Matilda didn't understand. Her fingers rapped against the cover of a hardback she was holding before she answered Matilda.
"I don't think she could right now, actually."
Matilda thought. She looked at Keisha again, the leather jacket hanging at the back of her chair, the way her forearm casually rested on her lap as she held the book one-handed, a sleeveless shirt showing off the shape of her shoulders. All the children were fascinated with her. Jenny was entranced.
"Mrs Phelps, is your niece a lesbian?"
Mrs Phelps gasped, turning to Matilda with bulging eyes. Her mouth opened a couple times without a word.
"How did you… That's not my place to say, Matilda."
"But she is, isn't she?"
But Mrs Phelps only shook her head with the hint of a chuckle and patted Matilda's hand gently.
"You," she said, pulling Matilda's little hands into her larger one. It felt warm and pleasant, "are way too clever. Has anyone ever told you that?"
Matilda passed her a small pile of books.
"Yes, they have."
"If you have any question about Keisha, I think you should ask her directly," Mrs Phelps said with an apologetic smile. "She is… upfront."
Matilda looked across the library. The stories seemed to have come to an end and Keisha was talking to the children with a funny smile at her lips, like she was about to tell the punchline of a joke that never actually came. She was asking them questions about the stories, what they thought the point of it was, their favorite parts. Her voice was kind and patient.
Matilda did not know what she should ask. She didn't think she had questions to ask − she rather felt like she had answers already and that it only depended on her to find out the real questions behind them. She only had to think about it. And if she wanted to ask anything, she couldn't have, anyways. Indeed, Jenny had jumped to her feet and was talking to her with an animation rarely seen on the timid young woman. For a moment, it seemed like both women's attention was fully and entirely focused on each other, like nothing else existed outside of the little bubble they had around them. Jenny was smiling that strange and gorgeous smile Matilda had not seen before, until Jenny happened to turn in her direction and finally saw her again, and the rest of the world. The smile turned back to the one Matilda knew so well and she gestured for her to come nearer.
"Matilda," she said, "This is Keisha Phelps. She tells me she's just moved in with her aunt and will help her out at the library from now on."
"How do you do, Ms Phelps," Matilda replied. "I loved the stories."
Keisha smiled, shaking Matilda's hand.
"I've heard a lot about you," she said. "I think we might see each other a lot in the future."
Matilda stared at her handsome, sharp face, noticed that her hair was much shorter on one side, shaven short and braids tracing back to the other side that was much longer and coily. She looked, Matilda thought, like a rock star of a librarian. Jenny looked like she agreed with the unshared thought.
"Yes," she replied, "I think so too."
Sunday mornings had used to be a dull affair of often being forced in front of the telly, all her books of the week already read, but Matilda had had to wait for the house to be empty to make her escape to the library. The Wormwoods had never liked to know of her reading. Sometimes, it had been better to just not anger them.
Jenny didn't even own a television in the big old house that was theirs. On Saturday mornings, they usually cooked up a special treat to celebrate another good week and over a breakfast that often turned into brunch, they shared whatever was on their heart. Talking never came easy to Matilda, especially not to other people, but with a pile of scones and homemade jam, she felt like she could open up about anything. She had spent the whole evening of the day before thinking about this.
"Mummy, can I ask you something?"
Deep inside, she probably knew she shouldn't use this fond and childish word, or at least not with such a design in her mind. It had been close to two years, but Jenny still came out as often as Mum. Manipulation, she thought, was surely naughty.
"Of course, darling, you can ask me anything you want," Jenny replied and there was joy in her voice, more than the already cheerful usual. She'd been doing the dishes at the sink as Matilda nursed the last sips of her cup of tea.
"What's a lesbian?"
Jenny gasped and dropped the pan she had been rinsing. A splash of hot water streaked across the room, even wetting Matilda's cheeks. She rubbed them dry with the cuff of her nightgown and gave Jenny her most innocent smile as she turned around with bulging frightened eyes.
"Who told…" She sighed the deepest sigh in the world and passed a palm on her face, rubbing away the surprise. "I can't imagine that you don't already know that, Matilda."
Matilda sipped her tea. Jenny put down the sponge she'd been holding, untied her apron and sat next to her at the table. Her hand rested between them, closer to Matilda than to herself. She always did this, giving Matilda the option of receiving affection if she so desired. Matilda always chose to take it. Her small hand covered Jenny's. Her hands were always soft, always a comfort, even when Matilda didn't think she needed comforting.
"I could have told you about this sooner, I suppose," Jenny started, staring at the flower pattern on the tablecloth. "I was afraid you'd… Well, this might just be the perfect time."
"You told me I could ask you anything."
She didn't know why it mattered, but in this instant, it did.
"And you can, and I will answer you. A… Well, a lesbian," she whispered the word like a naughty curse, "is a woman who prefers the company of other women."
Deep down, Matilda knew she shouldn't act the innocent. She had read the dictionary when she was five. She knew what a lesbian is. But the soft stroke of Jenny's thumb across her palm made the pretense all worth it. Some answers were better when they came from a specific person.
"Don't all women prefer the company of women? My best friend is also a girl."
Jenny hid her frustration quite well. Smiling at Matilda, she went on.
"You see, it's a particular sort of company. The sort of company that most women prefer from… from men. Like mummies and daddies. A relationship. Do you understand?"
"Do you mean like a husband?"
Jenny nodded.
"Like a husband, yes. Someone to love and to hold and..." She trailed off, her gaze veering into the distance. Matilda bit her lip, waiting for her to go on. A few long seconds passed before Jenny shook out of it, her kind blue eyes blinking a few times rapidly. Her smile looked a little more forced. "Someone to spend your life with. Some women want to do all those things with another woman."
"You do?" Matilda asked. "You are? A lesbian, I mean."
Jenny's eyes twitched almost so subtly no one could have seen it, but Matilda saw everything. She knew Jenny so well by now. She looked like a puppy caught doing mischief in its master's absence for a split second, but regained her countenance so fast that anyone who didn't know her would have never known any different.
"I... I am, yes. I cannot lie to you. I don't know why you're asking this of me now, Matilda, but if anyone told you..."
"Nobody said anything," Matilda replied immediately. "Nobody said anything about you at all."
Jenny didn't look convinced, but she nodded slowly, her hand squeezing Matilda's.
"Are you… How do you feel about this, darling?"
Matilda had gotten used to being asked that. It helped, and not just the kindness behind the question. Matilda's emotions were a blank sheet most of the time but whenever Jenny asked her about them, formulating and putting words to her feelings made them more tangible, more controllable, more real. She paused and tried to make a list in her head, but she couldn't seem to go past the first item.
"Nothing," she muttered. "Happy."
Jenny's thumb stroked against Matilda's palm and to her, it felt like her mum needed more support than she did.
"Happy is not nothing, Matilda," she replied on the same tone, a secret.
"Then I'm just… happy."
They smiled at each other. Matilda reached over and hugged her, which her mum readily reciprocated. Tucking her face into Matilda's hair, she breathed in deeply, comfortably.
"That'll just be our little happy secret, then," she said.
Matilda disengaged, her hands still on Jenny's arms.
"Secret?"
Jenny looked uneasy again, though she tried to hide it.
"Well, yes," she said slowly. "Darling, I don't... I'm not sure how to say this, but I think the easiest way is: not everyone would be happy knowing this. And it's my decision to tell them or not."
"You mean they would be cross?"
"Yes, very," she replied and though what she said was heartbreaking, she talked of it like she would the weather outside. "I was already afraid you'd... But I suppose it is for the best I told you. I hadn't told anyone since... since..."
But her words trailed off and she said no more. Matilda didn't press her on.
"Our happy secret, then," she said and the matter was sealed.
Happiness, Matilda thought, did not need to be limited to the two of them. In fact, she had a very neat idea of who Jenny might want to share her lesbian happiness with. If only she would find the way to bring that notion to life.
Visits at the library became more frequent. From once a week, Jenny started to offer a second, third visit every week. She became used to taking her school work with her and write her lessons quietly at the library. There was a particular softness in her manners whenever a certain young new librarian was present, a joy that she carried through the entire day and even the next. Matilda loved seeing her so happy. It was soon a new habit of Jenny sitting at a table in the poetry section and Matilda at another in the fantasy section, not so in plain view that Jenny would think to restrain herself but not so far that Matilda missed even a second of the show. There were glances, more numerous and hopeful every time. There were conversations that seemed to leave her mum giddy and tender. There were moments of plain silence where Keisha put away books into shelves, cleaned up the place, and Jenny absorbed her presence like a sea spunge, through every pore of her being.
Matilda knew her to be happy, at the very least happier, since the new librarian had arrived. The goal would now be to make her happiest.
"Mrs Phelps," she announced plainly to her old friend on such an occasion her mum was deep in conversation with the object of her affections, "I need your help."
It was, in an odd way, a good thing that Matilda had always been used to conceiling her emotions. She had little difficulty keeping the secret from Jenny for the few days it brewed. It wasn't a big secret anyways and it would be for the best. Rather than guilt, she was filled with excitement and when the door finally rung on that Sunday afternoon, she nearly ran to answer it.
"Ms Phelps!" She cried out.
Keisha looked at her intrigued, though she was smirking. Matilda wondered if her plan had been found out after all, but now that it was put in execution, that did not matter.
"Special emergency delivery from the library for Jennifer Honey," Keisha said, holding up a pile of books. "Is she here?"
Matilda grinned.
"Yes, yes she is, I just have to find her." Crying out inside, she said, "Mum?"
There was no reply at first.
"She's just somewhere over here, let me get her," she told Keisha. Still to the inside, she said a bit louder. "Where are you? Are you in the closet, Mum?"
Matilda heard steps and her mum's muffled voice got nearer.
"Why would I be in the c… Oh. Oh, Ms Phelps, what a… What a pleasure. What is…"
Matilda gave her the most innocent eyes she could produce, her hands neatly tucked behind her back.
"Ms Phelps got you those books you requested from the library. The books you absolutely needed."
It did not take long for Jenny's to catch onto the little scheme. One severe look of disapproval and her face found its usual smooth politeness again.
"Of course," she said, "Thank you kindly."
Keisha handed the pile of books, which Jenny grabbed awkwardly. Neither of them made a move to part ways, Keisha leaning against the door, lingering. Matilda took a step aside to give them space, though she could feel the tension radiating from her mum.
"Would you…" Jenny said hesitantly. "Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea?"
Keisha let herself in, closing the door behind her.
"I would love nothing best."
Before she could be blamed for any of it, Matilda ran to her room but left the door ajar. In the distance, she listened carefully to the sound of steps to the kitchen, the whistling of a tea kettle and, most importantly of all, incessant conversation. She recognized in that the complete success of her plan. She had her own reading to get to but till the evening, she could hear the dulled voice of her mum through the walls, getting animated and cheerful by the minute and by the time she was called to say goodbye, she was certain that Keisha was leaving only after a long and pleasant afternoon with her Jenny.
"This," Jenny said as soon as the door was closed, "was the last time you'll be allowed to pull a surprise like that, my darling."
Matilda gave a subdued smile and shrugged before going back to her room.
Her mum tucked her in that night and sat at her side longer than the usual hug and kiss on the forehead before saying goodnight. For a long while they sat in silence. The sun was still setting down outside and orange and purple was peering through the curtains of Matilda's room. She pulled the cover closer to her chest and buried herself back into the thick pillows.
"Was I naughty?"
Her mum paused, then let out a breathless snort and brushed a tendril of Matilda's hair out of her eyes. Her thumb lingered on her cheek, stroking gently. Her hands were soft.
"A little bit," she said with a smile.
"I'm sorry," Matilda sighed but she got another hug in response.
"I suppose sometimes, you have to be," she muttered into Matilda's hair. Her hands patted Matilda's back gently, bringing her flush against her. "But I'd like you to not play any more tricks, darling."
"I said I was sorry!" Matilda protested but her mum shook her head.
"I'm not upset," she said. "I… had a nice time. But I want you to know I can handle my relations on my own."
“I was trying to help…”
“I know you were,” she said and Matilda felt calmer just by the sound of her kind voice. "I can handle some things myself, darling."
"I know you can."
That made Jenny smile all the sweeter.
"Do you promise, then?"
"Promise," Matilda swore, holding up a hand, another on her heart. She hesitated before adding, "Are you gonna ask her out?"
Jenny's face turned entirely bright pink and she opened her mouth a few times like a fish out of water.
"Matilda, I…"
"You like her, don't you?"
Jenny would not look at her.
"Very much, but…"
"But what?"
Matilda realized she was sounding almost whiny but couldn't stop herself. She had a vision of joy and happiness for her mum, for their family. She couldn't fathom why Jenny herself would be an obstacle to it.
"Darling, I've told you, most people don't take kindly to homosexuality − you know what 'homosexuality' means, do you?" Matilda nodded and Jenny went on. "I simply cannot afford to take that risk, we just have no way of knowing if she's also a… a…"
"She is," Matilda noted. "I've asked Mrs Phelps. Her niece is a lesbian."
Jenny sighed.
"I won't even ask how that conversation went," she said. "But even if she happens to be a… well, erm, if she has the same predilection, that doesn't mean at all that she would necessarily be inclined to any such relationship with me and I just don't think that…"
"But she likes you!" Matilda protested. Jenny's head snapped back towards her. Those big blue eyes shone even in the growing darkness of night. "She likes you, Mum, I know she does."
There was a relief spreading across her face as Matilda spoke. Despite herself, she gave a dreamy smile.
"You think so?" She asked timidly.
"I know so," Matilda said and Jenny took her hands.
For a while, she thought her mum was about to say something but she never did. Finally, she leaned down and pressed the usual goodnight kiss on Matilda's forehead.
"Goodnight, darling," she said.
"Goodnight, Mummy," Matilda replied.
They spoke no more of Keisha the next morning, or the one after that. In fact, by the time the next Saturday afternoon came and it was time for their trip at the library, Matilda was almost convinced that Jenny had given up on the idea of getting closer to Keisha. It was therefore a wonderful and astonishing surprise when, upon spotting her across the library, Jenny took a couple of big breaths and, shaking her fists, declared.
"That's it, today's the day."
Matilda looked at her with awe.
"You're going to… ?"
"Yes, yes I am," Jenny said and patted Matilda's shoulder. "I'm going to ask her out."
She walked briskly and confidently towards her but by the time she had reached Keisha, her resolve was much less firm.
"Miss Honey," Keisha said with a charming grin. "What can I do for you?
When Jenny spoke, her voice was hesitant and soft.
"There is… Well, I meant to say, there is something I wanted to… I didn't want to assume, that is to say…"
"Would you like to go on a date with her?" Matilda blurted out.
Her mum's mouth dropped open with shock and a little bit of annoyance before she regained herself. Keisha was equally shocked.
"Matilda!" She hissed reproachfully, shaking her head, but then she turned to Keisha and, much less firmly, asked her, "Would you… like to go… I mean, if you're interested, that is… o-on a date… with me?"
Keisha recovered from the surprise − her mouth turned to an easy smile and she put a hand on her hip.
"Well, I've never been asked out by someone's daughter before."
Jenny awkwardly faked a polite laugh, grabbing Matilda by the shoulders, ready to leave.
"You are so right, Ms Phelps, this was ridiculous, and obviously a joke, of course. We'll be on our way, I'm so sorry…"
Matilda got pulled backwards but they hadn't even taken three steps that Keisha spoke again.
"Yes," she said and Jenny stopped right in her tracks. Matilda glanced back at her, then at Keisha again. "The answer is yes."
Jenny's face broke into the most beautiful smile Matilda had ever seen.
Their first date wasn't much of a date at all in Matilda's opinion. They sat together at the library and talked in hushed whispers behind their hands, sharing many smiles and hiding even more of them, but from the other side of the large room, Matilda saw them all. Hours long they sat there and never ran out of things to talk about. Jenny had never been the talkative kind but she seemed around Keisha to be lit with a new kindle of life. That light was for her new interest only to enjoy and Matilda stopped paying any attention after a time. Diving back into a thick tome, she let her mum handle things on her own. She did not need any help.
They had other dates. A walk in the park, Matilda chatting with her friends the next bench over, a visit to the museum, another few library dates. Matilda let them be, witnessing from the distance the affection growing between the two women. It was good for grown-ups to have their own space. Over days and weeks, that space grew and expanded and before Matilda knew it, she was kindly shoved into Mrs Phelps' home for the night and told that she would be having a fun Friday night sleepover and be brought back home again the next morning.
"I don't understand," she told Mrs Phelps, "why I shouldn't be allowed to stay home while they go to the restaurant. All my books are there. I've been re-reading the Encyclopædia Britannica and all my notes are…" She noticed a funny look on Mrs Phelps' face and stopped. "I'm very sorry, Mrs Phelps, I shouldn't complain, it's impolite…"
Mrs Phelps shook her head with a fond smile. Sitting down next to her, she handed her a mug of hot chocolate and a Russian novel.
"Oh, it's not that at all, you couldn't be impolite if you tried." She paused to take a sip of her own mug of hot chocolate. "Matilda, my dear, don't think about it any more than I do: I'll just tell you that they will want the house to themselves. Besides, isn't this fun? How often do you get to have your very own sleepover with your old Mrs Phelps?"
Mrs Phelps wasn't exactly old. Matilda, who could not decipher grown-up people's age very well, had once asked Jenny who had told her that Mrs Phelps would be turning 48 the next spring and that it would be a great idea to give her a special present for it. Maybe because Mrs Phelps had been a part of their lives even before they were in each other's, a comfort and a support, they were both deeply fond of her, far beyond the bonds that could unite readers and librarians in general. Matilda had a great night with her, reading quietly while Mrs Phelps periodically asked her questions about the story. After a while, there was much more talking than reading but Matilda didn't mind. It was a good thing, after all, to have a life of your own outside of the home. She had been all too used to that when she was very little and though her circumstances were all so much better now, she was enjoying doing something that was entirely hers, even if it was just a conversation with a person she admired and appreciated. Still, her mind kept circling around the date that was supposed to be going on.
"But how is it that Keisha came to live with you so suddenly?" She asked, as that had been a concern of her for as long as Keisha had been working at the library.
Mrs Phelps put down the book she had not been reading for near half an hour. Her face was stern and she looked at Matilda for a few very long seconds before answering.
"Now, Matilda, you must understand that not everybody's opinions are the same…"
Matilda sensed a tension and remained silence.
"Keisha was… She was studying to become a doctor. Paid by my brother. Did she tell you about that?"
Matilda shook her head.
"Well, one way or another, he learned that she was a lesbian." She sighed. "He did not like the idea very much. Do you understand where I'm going with this?"
Matilda was not sure what to reply, though she did have her suspicions now.
"You mean he threw her out?"
Mrs Phelps tried to take a sip of hot chocolate before realizing her cup was empty. She stared at it mournfully as she answered.
"Well, there were more steps than that but the end result is all the same. She was given a choice and she chose to come live here with me."
"That's not right," Matilda said sharply. "What he did. That's not right at all."
"It isn't," Mrs Phelps nodded. "Your true family really is the one you choose, isn't it?"
"It is," Matilda replied and though she had felt very upset just a moment before, she was now feeling warm and reassured.
The next day, Mrs Phelps drove her back to the big house on the hill. Keisha's motorbike was leaning against the wall of the empty driveway − Jenny had never learned how to drive and said she never would. Matilda wondered if that included riding behind Keisha on the bike. They would just have to see.
Her mum was in the kitchen when they entered the home, so Keisha was the one who opened the door. She was wearing the same tank top and ripped black denim jeans as the day before. The smile she was wearing was however much larger and brighter and she gave Matilda two big kisses, one on each cheek.
"You're just in time for scones," she announced, gesturing them inside and greeting her aunt with equal affection.
Jenny was singing in the kitchen. She sang very well, Matilda knew, though rarely and only when she was feeling truly happy. As soon as she heard them walk in, she was startled out of it and whirled around.
"Oh," she said simply.
She was wearing a long dressing gown open at the front revealing some short nightdress Matilda had never seen before. It was pale pink and had white lace at the seams. It was very pretty but Matilda had the notion that she ought not to have seen it. Averting her eyes, she sat down at the kitchen table.
"I'm going to… I'll be right back…"
Jenny all but ran out and Matilda saw Keisha's eyes follow her out of the room. She thought she probably ought not to have seen that either. When Jenny came back a brief moment later, she was wearing much more clothing. They all had brunch together, Honeys and Phelps, and more than ever Matilda felt like she had a family around her, a growing and loving family.
The separation was out of fairy tales in Matilda's eyes. Not that she had a direct look at Jenny and Keisha as they bid each other farewell − she had too much respect for her mum's privacy for that. Keisha put on her helmet, climbed her motorbike and rode away into the distance with one last wave in their direction. Jenny stood and stared as if struck by lightning. When they closed the door, she crashed her back against it and sank to the floor, her hands covering her face. Matilda frowned.
"What's wrong, Mummy? I thought... I thought you were looking forward to the date."
Jenny's face peeked through fingers and Matilda saw the brightest, shyest grin she had ever seen in her life.
"I was," she said. "Oh, Matilda, I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me, I…"
She pulled herself back to her feet and shook her head. She looked radiant like never before.
"Now, what say we make a trip to the library this afternoon?"
All good things, after all, took place at the library.