Beside the stereo is a large bouquet of flowers, carefully arranged inside her second-best vase. Happy birthday, Barbara, reads the card, in Colin’s wife’s handwriting. Love Colin and family. At least they remembered. At least someone remembered. Barbara leans toward the stereo and listens: the broadcaster is talking about Princess Diana’s death the day before – what a shock that was. When Barbara first heard about it on the radio the previous afternoon, she’d been so alarmed, she’d dropped her best vase. And here she was: sitting beside a pile of broken porcelain that she still hadn’t cleaned up, because it hurt her knees, and her birthday wasn’t the time to remind herself of all her body could no longer do. Happy birthday to me, she thinks. At least I have my new stereo. And she’ll listen to the news, followed by a deep-dive story about Diana’s life – that will be interesting. After that, she’ll go out to get her hair done, and, at some point, clean up the remnants of the vase.
