GINGERBREAD

Plastic ramekins full of candy are laid out down the centre of the table. Multi-coloured m&ms, liquorice, mini-chocolate logs, peppermints, tubes of icing, candy sticks, and round chocolate balls. We skipped the gumballs – a nightmare for false teeth. The gingerbread sets are cheap as chips at the local store, and Donna has collected a handful. I worry everyone will eat the candy and skip the building, but Donna is certain the patients will know what to do.“They always remember kiddie things,” she says in her strong accent, towering over me. Donna wears flat shoes, but still has to duck under the lights. Her height and strength come in handy, far too often.

Only Mabel, Alice, and Lulu show any interest in the activity. I confess, I’ve never made a gingerbread house.

“Don’t squirt that into your mouth, Mabel!”I guide her hand back to the ridge of the house. We are attempting to stick two halves together. Donna is pushing dishes of sweets further away from Alice. “Let’s build the house before we start decorating it, shall we?” she says. The walls of Mabel’s house seem to be leaning against each other like a drunk on a lamppost, and the amount of white icing we’re deploying to plug the gaps recalls my miserable attempt to regrout the bathroom tiles. I glance at Lulu, but she’s quiet, and rarely causes any trouble. Lulu has lost the power of speech. Although, she does love to be hugged. Most of the time Lulu cuddles her