Page 33 - SAMPLE Talking the the Moon

I take a breath and try again. “Did your aunt and uncle drown too?” I say.
Mimi nods. “Yes, my father’s brother and his wife. All three gone. My mother’s heart must have absolutely broken. My father had died in the war the previous year so she was all alone. Apart from me.”
“Where did it happen?”
“Just a few miles down the coast.”
She sighs. “This photograph,” she says, “is full of
ghosts. Coral’s gone and so has the West Pier.”
“And the person who took the photo,” I say.
“Almost certainly,” says Mimi. “It was nearly seventy-
five years ago.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Well,” says Mimi, “I was five when she died and she
was two, so I’m not sure I remember her. But I missed the idea of her. I didn’t have any siblings and she was my only cousin.” She smiles.
“She was my imaginary friend when I was a child. I’d chat to her and tell her my stories. Like you chat to the seagull.”
“I don’t exactly chat to the seagull,” I say. “We just understand each other.”
“Well,” she says, “you wouldn’t know then. But an imaginary friend’s very handy if you’re a lonely child.”
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