– Alright then, girleen, I swear I won’t mention them again, – says snow-white Louise from behind the curtain, and then she comes out and the room seems to be turning white. The walls and the bedspread and the wardrobe and the television set. Everything is turning white. And Louise is coming towards her. The only two things that are not white are the big blue eyes in the Snow Queen coming closer and closer, so that Birdie thinks she’s going to kiss her. And she does.

I should wake up now, Birdie thinks. That kiss should wake me. But it doesn’t. And suddenly Victorian Louise seems sad, and she sits on the bottom of the bed with her back to Birdie and she says – I know what you’re going to ask me. –

What?

– You want to know why I went away! –

Yes.

– He was too careful, Birdie. He was like a tailor, threading a needle. –

What do you mean?

– What do I mean? Sure, Birdie girl, how would I know what I mean if you don’t know who I am? –

Birdie was looking at the broad back of the woman at the bottom of the bed. You’re Louise, she heard herself say.

The Snow Queen turned around. First the shoulders, then the face, with white curls falling either side of the cheeks and eyes like pools of ocean blue …

– Who? –

Christ Jesus, Birdie heard herself scream. But she didn’t scream. And she didn’t wake. And the big girl at the end of the bed came closer. So close Birdie wanted to kiss her again. Kiss her and fondle her and hold her close for a little while longer. She tried to reach out but her body wouldn’t move. That’s when she woke up. The curtain moving in a tiny breeze. The bedroom door ajar.

BIRDIE

1

WHAT TIME IS IT? She doesn’t know. She listens. Not a sound. And the room is so white. She takes a peek through the curtains. It’s just as she thought. A blanket of snow covers the earth. A blue sky over it all with a rich sliver of moon over the beech trees in the distance. And the quietness of snow is always unexpected and severe.

What day is it? She can’t remember. She tries to find religious services on the transistor radio beside her pillow. No good. Then she tries the small television at the end of the bed. No. Not even a picture. Must be broken.

She potters around the top of the landing, looking for vests. Then she walks along the corridor to the toilet. It’s wonderful to pass water. To have no leakage overnight. To have no dizziness or lightness in the head.

Fine. She is dressed and fully awake in her room, and she sits at the window and looks out again at the blanket of snow. Still some darkness in the far trees. A white stillness on the world. No neighbour stirring. There are no neighbours out here. No lights in the distance. But what time is it? Or what day is it?