The fragility of pressed flowers

Lucy’s mother died at home, listening to the afternoon birds. Lucy treasured her mother’s silk embroidered notebook. It had wildflowers inside, pressed and dried, their petals as dainty as insect wings. Charlotte Bragg, denied invitation to her elder son’s wedding, slid into the back pew of the cathedral.At the Soldatenkaffee Madeleine on the Rue St Honoré a slender woman sits on the edge of a vinyl chair.The corpulent man stumbled and wavered, taking pains to appear sober, soughing onto the slatted bench near the park.Georgia dragged her feet, watching her brother’s long strides swirl dust on the bush track ahead. It was alright for him. He wanted to go.Kate couldn’t remember when her role of carer had begun. It stretched back into a childhood that should still exist, but didn’t. ~~~This long awaited collection of Brooks’ short stories deals with all the themes close to her heart. They are shared with the grit and fearlessness that has appeared in her previous narratives. A welcome addition to Brooks’ list of published works.