Miss Lizzie

"But she's beautiful," Miss Lizzie says as the baby squirms away.

 

Esther is here too -- a grown-up Esther in a purple dress with sequins on. Not so long ago, Esther was eagerly taking my twice-read magazines (because I got them secondhand already) to cut up and use for her Fabrics O-level coursework. Then her mother put her into a private academy (which isn't the same as private school. It's a lot cheaper, for one. And less regulated. The only thing the authorities seem to do is to close lots of academies down for "not being licensed." But often the exam results are better, partly because the teachers don't strike).

 

Esther wants to be a teacher, or at least, her mother wants her to. Miss Lizzie has dreams of a better future for her only child. She has enrolled her at the local teaching college.

 

"Look at me," she says. "No exams, no house. Nothing."

 

Esther suddenly seems downcast. We exchange pleasantries. How my elder child is growing. How Christmas was. How it's good the rain came.

 

"She has a husband now," Miss Lizzie says. "She's having a baby, you know. In March. I was not angry. But now - "