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an excerpt from

Afternoon Tea
Rosemary Mayo

    How ridiculous. What are the chances of this man knowing? And yet she opens her tapestry bag and brings out the black and white photo. A monkey sits on the child’s shoulder, frowning as it scratches its head. A man and a woman stand on either side of the child and monkey. The woman, in a belted dress with square shoulders, smiles. The man towers above them, in a stiff white jacket and long, white baggy shorts. One arm hangs by his side, something—maybe a cigar—jammed between his fingers. He doesn’t smile. The child pouts from under dark bangs. A doll hangs upside-down from her hand.

    Iris points to the man and woman. "I don’t suppose you remember ever seeing these two at the Rest House way back, do you?"

    He takes the photo from her and contemplates it gravely. Then he shakes his head. "I don’t think so. It’s hard to say. So many years ago."

    "Of course. Silly of me to ask." She holds out her hand for the photo, but he stares at it again as if noting something he hadn’t seen.

    "Could be that the woman is familiar. But the man—I don’t recall him at all. I’m sorry. These are your relatives?"

    "Yes, my parents. That’s me looking very grumpy."

    "And your monkey?"

    "Right. Gabriel."

    "What a wonderful name for a monkey. This must have been taken after the war."

    She nods. "Late forties, early fifties. I’m not sure exactly when."

    "Are they still alive?"

    "Oh no—my father died when I was a child and my mother ten years ago. She was ninety."

    "Ah. It is sad to live so long after the death of a loved one. I too have lived many years since my dear wife died. She was only fifty-five and I am now seventy-eight. Many, many lonely years."

    "I’m sorry. It must be hard for you."

    And she looks away at the hills of tea and wonders, was it hard for Rose?

    She had been at boarding school in England when the headmistress sent for her. Friday lunch and they were eating gray fish with canned peas.

    Iris made her way down dark echoing corridors to the headmistress, who was standing in her doorway, not a good sign.

    "I want you to be a brave girl, Iris. I have some bad news."

    "Rose? Something happened to Rose?" She stood staring at Miss Smethers’ black, lace-up shoes, waiting for her reply.

    But Miss Smethers said, "Who is Rose?"

    "My mother. Please, please—"

    "Come, sit down, Iris. Dear." She led Iris to a chair and took her place behind a broad, uncluttered desk. "Your mother is perfectly fine as far as I know. It’s your father. He died this morning. I am so very, very sorry."

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