The tall young woman stood sandwiched between two people. Locks of long dark hair stuck to her flushed face. Someone stepped on her foot, and did not apologise. Evelyn needed air. Fresh air would be even better. The heat was oppressive, and the smell of sweat mixed with several much too sweet perfumes made her feel nauseous. She thought she would faint if she did not get out soon. Knightsbridge. At last. She held her handbag close to her, and tried to make her way through the throng of people blocking the doors. She was on the verge of panicking, but she stepped onto the platform just in time. Once outside, Evelyn could finally breathe, though the air was not as fresh as she had hoped. She looked up at the sky, which foreboded a thunderstorm, and heaved a sigh. She still had so many things to do. She went back to the list in her head. Buy a present for mother, some summer clothes for Arthur, go to the supermarket and the hairdresser's. No, she would go to the hairdresser's first. She would ask them to curl her hair and put it up. The heavy mass of hair hanging down her back was very uncomfortable in hot weather. There wasn't even a breeze. Such an unpleasant day to go shopping, but she had to get moving if she wanted to be on time to pick up Arthur.
It did not take her long to find a present for her mother. In a small boutique she bought a thin, pale green shawl. Her mother always wore shawls. Evelyn was sure she would like it.

An hour later, with her hair exactly to her liking, and her hands full of shopping bags, she crawled into the luxury of a taxi, which drove her to Earl's Court. Evelyn opened the blue front door, ten minutes later than planned, and dumped the bags in the narrow hallway. The door slammed shut behind her. She kicked off her shoes.
'Is that you, Evelyn?'�
She was surprised to hear it was her husband, Stephen. When she came into the bright, cream 'coloured kitchen, she saw he was making lunch. He looked up and smiled.
'Ah, there you are. I thought you would be home by now. I've taken the rest of the day off. So you can relax a little, before you start preparing for the party. I'll pick up Arthur from kindergarten. Sit down. Did you get everything for this evening?'�
'Yes, all the bags are in the hallway.'� She let out a deep sigh.
'I'll sort things out. You must be exhausted.'� He fixed his searching blue eyes on her face.

As soon as Evelyn heard him drive away in the car, she jumped off the chair. She tied an apron around her waist, and flicked through one of her many cookery books until she had found the recipe for the cake she wanted to make. Then she took the necessary ingredients from the larder and fridge, which were filled with food for the party. While her slender manicured hands were busy kneading dough the list popped back into her head. After baking cake start preparing lasagne. Clean kitchen. Tidy living room. Her eye caught sight of a half 'empty coffee mug, and one of Arthur's toys lying on the floor. Why did they never clear things away?
She was disturbed by her little son storming into the kitchen, shouting: 'Mummy, mummy, look!'�
With a big smile on his small, round face he showed Evelyn the paper boat he had made. His expectant eyes disarmed her. She wiped her hands clean on her apron, and knelt down in front of him.
'Well done, Arthur! You're such a big boy!'� she said, and kissed him on his pink cheek. He tilted his head sideways, and looked at her inquisitively.
'Mummy, there's something yellow in your hair.'�
Evelyn touched her head, and grabbed a strand of hair covered in egg 'yolk. Stephen appeared in the doorway, his fair hair sticking to his forehead.
'It's much too warm weather for June,'� he said, panting.
'Damn it, my expensive hairdo! It's ruined! Now I have to wash it! And I'm already running out of time. Would you please entertain Arthur for a while, before he takes his nap? My parents and David will be here at six!'�
'I know,'� he said, trying to suppress his laughter. 'Is there anything else I can do?'�
'No, I'll manage,'� she said briskly.

When Stephen had taken Arthur out of bed, and placed him in front of the television, he peeped his head around the kitchen door. Evelyn was taking the cake out of the oven. With a look of disappointment in her grey eyes she showed him the result.
'Never mind. I like flat cake.'�

Evelyn finally came downstairs, with damp hair tied in a knot at the back of her neck, and wearing her new scarlet, sleeveless dress. The lipstick she had put on was of the same shade.
'Look at mummy, Arthur. Isn't she lovely?'� Stephen said to his son, who nodded his head immediately, because his mouth was full.
'Are you finished?'� Evelyn asked Arthur. He swallowed.
'Yes, mummy. Is granny coming?'�
'Yes, and your granddad and uncle, honey. You can say hello to them, but then you have to go to bed.'�
Arthur put on his disappointed face, but Evelyn gave him a stern look. She took a cloth, and wiped his mouth.
'Play in your room until they come, darling, because I have to tidy the living room.'�
Stephen cleared away Arthur's plate, while Evelyn fluffed the cushions of the sofa's in the living room. She dusted picture frames and lamp shades, cleaned the coffee 'table, put all Arthur's toys away, and straightened the flowery curtains. She looked out of the sash window, and saw that the sky was turning very dark. She hoped the thunderstorm would burst loose soon. On her bare feet, her red shoes having mysteriously disappeared, she wandered around the house, checking if anything was lying around, putting things back in place. Throughout the house, which dated from the Victorian period, soft pastel 'coloured fabrics were used for curtains, cushions, sofa's, chairs and beds. The walls were either painted a soft yellow, a soft blue or a creamy white. Most of the rooms had wooden floorboards, with here and there a rug. Evelyn knew her need to create harmony around her was a dispensation. She took one last look at the living room. She noticed the vase of flowers on the window sill. It didn't look right there. Should she put it on the coffee 'table or the side 'table? The bell rang. In the hallway she took a quick glance in the mirror, and mourned her ruined hair, before opening the door. A smell of damp earth greeted her. Her parents and younger brother were standing on the doorstep, soaking wet.
'We had to park the car at the end of the street. Apparently, you're not the only one with company! I had no idea you could get this wet from walking a few yards,'� James, Evelyn's father, said cheerfully.
'Hi, Evy! You look great,'� David said as he kissed his sister, his wet hair dripping on the floor.
'Oh dear, I'll have to get you some towels!'� She kissed her father and mother, then ushered them into the kitchen, where Stephen was already making tea. They took place at the table. Arthur came running downstairs. He hugged his grandparents and uncle. While Stephen offered them tea and pieces of the failed cake, Evelyn had time to observe her mother. Her auburn hair was streaked with grey, and her face looked thin and pale. Arthur was sitting on her lap with his chubby arms around her neck.
'Would you like to give her the present?'� Evelyn asked him.
'Yes!'� he shouted.
'This cake is delicious, Evelyn. I'm so glad you invited us. I couldn't have borne to entertain people today.'� Laura said it with a smile on her face, but Evelyn could hear the quiver in her voice. She tried to ignore the anxious feeling in her stomach as Arthur placed a wet kiss on his grandmother's cheek, and gave her the present.
'Oh, it's beautiful! Thank you so much!'�
She draped the shawl around her shoulders. Wrong colour, Evelyn thought. It made her look even paler.

The curtains in the living room were drawn, and the lights had been switched on. Evelyn's parents were sitting on the sofa. David and Stephen stood by the window, telling each other jokes.
'You are such a good cook,'� James said to his daughter, who was sitting in the armchair by the fire.
'Thanks, dad. I am glad you enjoyed it.'�
Stephen walked to the coffee 'table.
'Would you like some more wine, James?'� he asked.
'Yes, thank you.'�
'You too, Laura?'�
'No, not for me,'� she replied with a wave of the hand.
Stephen refilled James's wine glass.
'I have cancer,'� Laura suddenly said.
Stephen dropped the glass. The white rug on the floor quickly absorbed the red wine. Evelyn hurried to the kitchen, and came back with a wet cloth. She started rubbing the rug frantically.
'I'm so sorry, Evelyn,'� her mother said.

As soon as Stephen had shut the front door, Evelyn burst into tears. He put his arms around her, and noticed how tense her body was. They stood like that for a while in the hallway, Evelyn unable to stop her tears, and Stephen stroking her back.

The first thing Evelyn did the following morning was to roll up the rug in the living room, and put it away. She had scrubbed with all her might, but a pinkish stain remained.
Driving back that afternoon, the thoughts she had been able to suppress during work tried to swim to the surface. Evelyn would not let them. They had to stay underwater. Grief would not engulf her. While waiting for yet another traffic light, she wined down the window a little further. The thunderstorm had not made much of a difference. The humid air weighed down on her, almost suffocating her. She was having a terrible headache.

Arthur's bubbly laugh greeted her when she walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He was sitting at the table. His father was making funny faces.
'Hi boys, how are you?'� She forced herself to sound cheerful.
'We're great! Arthur ate all his carrots!'�
'Very good, Arthur!'�
She stroked his head, flattening the untidy, light 'brown locks.
'Want to go to the beach, mummy!'�
Stephen explained where this sudden outburst came from.
'My parents called today. They've invited us to spend the weekend in Dorchester. I told them we would come. Arthur's so excited!'�
Evelyn frowned.
'Why didn't you wait to discuss it with me? Such short notice! I don't know if there's time. It's such a long drive. And I will have to do the laundry, and pack.'�
'Yes, but it's only for two days. We'll stuff a few clothes into a bag, and be off. Don't fuss over nothing.'� He sounded annoyed.
'I'll think about it,'� she said crossly.

Sleep wouldn't come that night. Her body was willing to, but it was too crowded inside her head. Worries competing with one another, which one would absorb her and keep her from falling into that terrifying black hole. That plunge into darkness where she would lose grip. She was dangling on the edge, almost falling, withheld by fear. Her stomach a whirlwind of unease, her mind overflowing with thoughts and cares, her body longing to relax its muscles. The rumbling of the thunder and the pouring of the rain outside made her feel irritable. She wanted to fall, fall into calm oblivion, but she did not dare to take the plunge. This struggle lasted a long time, until her body took over and forced her down.
When she awoke the next morning, a cool breeze was playing with the curtains. She tried to get up, but a sudden dizziness and stab of pain in her forehead prevented her. She heard stumbling noises coming from downstairs, and peals of laughter. Eventually she found enough strength to take a shower and get dressed. When she came downstairs, she almost tripped over the travelling bags gathered in the hallway. In the kitchen Stephen and Arthur were making sandwiches. Had she not been so spiritless, it would have made her very angry, to be ignored so. Instead, she let Stephen put the bags in the boot of the car, buckle up Arthur's seatbelt, and lock the front door. While they were trying to get out of London, Evelyn kept asking Stephen questions. What had he packed? Did he pack their pyjama's, Arthur's toys? His toothbrush? When she heard her own whining voice, she said to herself 'stop it'. They left the dust and heat behind, the roads became more narrow and winding, the hills higher and greener, and the sky clearer. Slowly Evelyn's limbs became heavier, her eyelids dropped, and she dozed off.
The sound of a woman's high 'pitched voice woke her. Her mother 'in 'law came rushing from the thatched cottage with its whitewashed walls and tiny windows. Two strong arms dragged her out of the car, and embraced her. Kate Bennet was a sturdy woman in her late fifties. Stephen was her youngest son. She was wearing a baggy dress, and her short grey hair stood on end. Evelyn always felt a little intimidated by her and the cottage, with its low beams and cramped rooms full of odds and ends.
'My, how long it has been! Come in, my dears. I'm thrilled that you came!'� Kate exclaimed. She embraced Stephen next, and then took little Arthur in her arms to carry him inside. Stephen's father, a quiet man with moustache and beer belly called Richard, came outside to help with the bags. Evelyn followed them into the small living room with the huge stone fireplace. She sat down in a big armchair, looking a bit dazed. Arthur was already running about in the garden which was more like a field full of trees. Kate came in carrying a tray with tea 'things. Evelyn got up to help her, but Kate objected.
'No, you are here to rest and do nothing. I will not have it. Sit down, young lady. Look at those black shadows underneath your eyes, and that knitted brow. So serious all the time!'�
After tea, Evelyn went to the guest room, where there was apparently enough space to put a mattress for Arthur on the floor next to the four 'poster bed. She unzipped the travelling bags to inspect their contents. To her relief, Stephen seemed to have thought about everything. He had even packed her favourite summer dress and her bikini. She took the clothes out of the bags, and laid them in neat piles in the drawers of the cupboard. She opened the window and leaned out of it. Stephen and his father were sitting on a bench in the shade. The branches of the trees were swayed to and fro by a gentle breeze. Her eyes wandered to the hills surrounding the cottage. Here was plenty of fresh air. How could she have stayed away so long? She felt a sudden urge to see more of Dorset.
In the kitchen Kate was already busy preparing food. Arthur was sitting on the dresser, eating an ice 'cream. Kate noticed Evelyn's disapproving look, and quickly said:
'I bought them especially for him. By the time supper's ready he'll be hungry again.'�
Evelyn smiled by way of an answer, and sat down at the kitchen 'table. Kate put a dish in the oven. She took off the oven gloves while observing Evelyn with her inquisitive green eyes.
'Isn't that long hair a great nuisance?'� she asked.
Evelyn looked surprised.
'No, not really,'� she said, afraid of what Kate was implying.
'I reckon it is, though. With this warm weather. Wouldn't you want to have it cut just a little bit shorter? I'm very good at it, you know,'� Kate said, a naughty smile on her face.
Evelyn shook her head vehemently. Kate took a pair of scissors from a drawer, while Arthur clapped his hands in excitement.

At breakfast the following morning they were still laughing about it.
'How did you cut it when she was so unwilling?'� Richard asked his wife.
'Well, Arthur was cheering me on as I approached Evelyn with the scissors. She was reprimanding him, and I just took a lock and cut a few inches off. I thought she would be outrageous, but she let me go on. And now she's very happy she did, aren't you Evelyn?'�
'Yes, it feels so much lighter,'� she said, smiling fully. Her hair now barely reached her shoulders. She'd had a good night's rest. The bags under her eyes were less prominent.
'Can we go to the beach?'� Arthur interrupted.
'Yes, that's a good idea. Evelyn, I think you should take him to Durdle Door. He'll love it there, and so will you,'� Kate said.
'Can't I come?'� Stephen asked.
'No, you're needed here. Let mother and son spend some time together.'�

She was driving through the gently rolling hills of the deepest green. The wind blowing through the open windows carried the smell of summer into the car. Arthur was sitting next to her, gazing intently out of the window. They had a wide view of the green and golden downland, and every once in a while they caught a glimpse of a shimmering sea.
'Look Arthur, isn't Dorset just like a patchwork quilt? Like the one on your bed at home?'� she asked him. He smiled broadly, revealing his milk 'teeth, and nodded his head in agreement.
They had reached Durdle Door Holiday Park before they knew it. Evelyn parked the car on the cliff top. She took a bag from the back of the car and swung it over her shoulder. The salty sea 'air filled her nostrils. She held Arthur's hand firmly as they walked down the steep flight of steps leading to the eastern end of the beach. The wind was a lot stronger here. They stood still to look. There were the high white cliffs in front of them, the green land tumbling into a deep blue sea. Evelyn pointed out the chalk headland to Arthur and said:
'That's called Bat's Head.'�
'Really? Do bats live there?'� Arthur asked, making his mother laugh. They walked onto the beach. Arthur kicked off his shoes immediately, and ran to the white 'foamed waves washing the shore. He was delighted to see that there really was a door. He jumped up and down. Evelyn spread their bath towels out on the sand. She was glad it wasn't very crowded yet. There were only a few other families with children. She took off her shirt and shorts, and sat down on the towel in her navy blue bikini.
'Arthur, come here! I've got sandwiches!'� she called out. He came running back to her.
'Mummy, is that door for mermaids?'� he asked, out of breath, pointing at Durdle Door Arch.
'I don't know, darling. It could be,'� Evelyn replied, taking off his T 'shirt. She handed him a sandwich. He took a bite, and pulled a face.
'Yuk, tastes like sand,'� he said. Evelyn laughed.
'They're supposed to. They're called sandwiches, aren't they?'�
Arthur laughed too. She took him into her arms, and cuddled him for a while, until he wriggled himself free. Evelyn watched him playing with his yellow bucket and green spade, wearing red swimming trunks. She looked at his blue 'grey eyes encircled by long black lashes, and the light 'brown sleek hair that fell across his forehead. Had she not noticed before what a mix of her and Stephen he was? How in tune with nature, that sweet little boy. Her child. He never took things for granted. She had once been like that. When did she lose that? When did she cease to wonder? Wonder about the high arch of endless blue above her head, the sand beneath her feet? She sat in silence, aware of her senses. She could hear the rushing of the waves, the murmur of voices, and the splashing of water. She could see the impressive cliffs, the different shades of blue, the thin line between bright sky and clear sea. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her white skin, the fresh wind giving her chills. In between the end of land and the beginning of sea she turned her eyes to the horizon. She saw clearly. Now that she was wide awake she dared to take the plunge. She saw her mother's face, heard her pronounce those words again, I have cancer. Did I really start cleaning the rug instead of running into my mother's arms? When did the child in me die? When did I become so obsessive, so controlling? Why this need to control everything? Was the rug more important to her than her mother? This silence. The peacefulness of this coast. This moment. She looked at Arthur, carrying his bucket with found treasures of nature. Seashells. She should be living in the moment. Now more than ever.

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