Green Fingers
Thomas walked through the house, every creak of every floorboard so familiar he’d have known which room he was in with his eyes shut.
‘Are you sure you want to sell, Dad?’ asked Annie.
No, he was not sure; and also, yes, he was. Elaine had been gone five years now. Annie had her own life with Matt and the kids, and the house was just too big for him to keep as clean or tidy as Elaine would have liked.
‘I think so,’ he said. ‘I may as well start clearing things out while I think about it.’
‘I could stay and help?’
‘No, you get yourself off home, love.’
As Thomas washed up their cups, his gaze fell on Elaine’s plant – the lush fern she’d bought the day they went to the hospital for her diagnosis still had pride of place on the windowsill.
‘Bet you’re surprised I’ve kept it alive all
