Umber (45.3 — Brigid O’Toole’s Story)
July 20, 2012 § 2 Comments
“Are you a friend of Vera’s?” I asked the old Irish woman.
“Indeed I am,” she answered. The poor missus needed my help with the wee one, and I needed a place to live, after I was let go from my last babysitting position. They said I was deranged, can you imagine that? They said I frightened their children by telling them stories about the little people. But Miss Vera was happy to find me. I watch little Oleander while her mother cooks at the school. I don’t know what HE does with his time, other than filling the cellar with dead animals. He’s gone a lot. But Miss Vera doesn’t like me to criticize him, so I just hold my tongue.”