When he gets out of bed, he realizes that’s what he’s going to do: bring Celia to meet her namesake.

Chapter 7

The woman is propped up in a chintz armchair. She is leaning back against a nurse, who is trying to brush her hair. Suspended from the opposite wall is a television set, sound almost mute, on which an energetic young man is demonstrating how to prepare a summer pudding.

The woman is so emaciated that her face looks all teeth. Her teeth are enormous and yellow. The only thing left that’s beautiful about the woman are her eyes, which are huge and icy green. Expressionless as a camel’s.

She’s wrapped in a mohair shawl the color of her eyes, and under it, she’s wearing a white linen dress.

The nurse is brushing out her mahogany-red hair. Every time the nurse draws a brushstroke, the woman emits an unearthly scream like a seagull’s. It’s a sound devoid of meaning, unless its meaning is simply malicious, to hurt one’s ears.

“Re-lax, Celia. I’m not hurting you; I’m being careful-careful. You be nice to Mandy, now. I’m gonna make your hair soft as silk.”

“You are too hurting me,” the woman whimpers. “How would you like it if I pulled your hair?”

Suddenly she whips round and yanks hard on the nurse’s hair, so that the young woman cries out in pain. You wouldn’t have thought there was strength enough in those sticklike arms to inflict such pain.

“You are a devil today, Celia,” complains the nurse. And then, catching sight of Gillem, who has just come through the door, “Wait until I tell your son how you be acting.”

“What son?” demands the woman, with weary disgust. “I have no son. No son.”

“And who’s this? Who’s this good-looking young man come to visit you?” The nurse beckons to Gillem and propels him to his mother’s side. “Look at the beautiful flowers he bring! Do you know the name of these flowers?”

“No.”

“They are lilies, aren’t they?”

“No.”

“Your favorite, lilies.”

“No.”

“Hello, Mummy,” says Gillem, and he bends over to kiss the woman. She screws her face away and tries to repel him with her matchstick arms. “Mummy, I’ve brought someone to meet you.”

He beckons to Rat, who is still standing in the doorway.

Celia Kidd’s eyes skate across her and back to the cooking program.

“A visitor,” intercedes Mandy, brightly. “Isn’t she pretty? Is that your niece?”

Gillem clears his throat. “No, this is my daughter.” He sits on the chair beside his mother and leans close to her, speaking in a low clear voice. “Mummy, I’d like you to meet my daughter. Her name is Celia, too. She’s named after you.”

Rat moves closer to the lady. “Hello, Mrs. Kidd,” she says.