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"Not much peace, have you, Moira?" said Mr Blake.
"No," she laug said, with a laugh.
They walked back home with her and the children. Deirdre put her
hand into Sadie's and clung to it tightly. She looked up from time to time into Sadie's face. "You seem to have made a new friend", said Mr Blake. When they reached the
Hendersons' gate a few doors along from Mr Blake's, she Moira asked if
them would like to come in for a cup of teacoffee.
"That would be nice, wouldn;t it, Sadie?" said Mr Blake.
Sadie nodded.
Moira'sHer sitting room was identical in size and shape to Mr Blake's,
but very differently furnished. It was modern and colourful, and
instead of photographs, paintings covered the walls.
"What lovely paintings!" cried Sadie. They looked vivid and
exciting to her: they were alive.
"Moira did them," said Mr Blake. "She's a painter."
"Was, you mean!" said Moira. "I don't get time any more."
"You will again, one of these days."
"In five years time!” By then I'll probably have forgotten how
to hold a brush."
Sadie and Mr Blake stayed for an hour. "That was good crack,"
said Sadie on the way homeback to his house. "I like a good chat. And I liked Moira."
"I thought you would."
"I saw she'd a crucifix in the hall. Is she a Catholic then?
She didn't look all that like one."
Mr Blake laughedwas amused. "Yes, she's a Catholic."
"I thought the place would have been smothered with holy pictures
