La vida

Some call my gift special. I consider it a burden. But let’s begin properly. When I was a month

**Diary Entry: Helen Archer** That’s ten years of silence. “Enough now!” I shouted, slamming

**Friday, 11th May** Looked myself over in the mirror this morning, adjusting the grey suit jacket.

“Irene, love, do explain this to me?” Valentina stood on the threshold, a string bag in hand

Right, got this memory that always gets me. Lost both parents by six. Mam died giving birth to me little

Arthur stood before the familiar door, unable to press the buzzer. A holdall weighed down his arm, his

Irene stirred her cooling tea as raindrops streaked the kitchen window like silver tears. On her doorstep

**Diary Entry – February 12th** Helen sat by the window, watching the street below. Buses wheezed

Oh, the day I became motherless at six is etched in my memory as clearly as yesterday. Mum already had

“Mum, stop lecturing me. Mark and I were planning to have a baby in, like, three years… At least three!