‘Do you think I’m pretty?” The nine year old girl asks eagerly. Her parents had just told her older sister she was looking pretty that day. It was a compliment she had never heard for herself, and is keen to be included. Her cheeks are pink from the uphill walk and her face clashes with her red tracksuit (bought for comfort and ease of washing). Her parents don’t lie. ‘It’s what’s inside that counts,’ her Mummy says….
It was during a wet summer holiday in the Lake District whilst walking up a stony lane, and it was a memory that never left her. All her life she just wanted someone to tell her she was pretty. It didn’t matter from whom. And she made a fool of herself trying to get it. Eventually someone did, and so she married him. But still, she was never sure if she believed him. After all, he loved her; so he would say that wouldn’t he?
She looks for a clear reflection, but all she finds are tarnished mirrors.
