Diane Romanello Sunset Beach

Diane Romanello Sunset BeachGustav Klimt The Virgins (Le Vergini)Gustav Klimt The Three Ages of Woman
Esk was sitting up in the narrow bed, unsinged but shrieking. Granny took the child in her arms and tried to comfort her; she wasn't sure how one went about it, but a distracted patting on the back and vague reassuring noises seemed to work, and the screams became wails and, eventually, sobs. Here and there Granny could pick out words like "fire" and "hot", and her mouth set in a thin, bitter line.
made the most of her implied license to explore.
She found that life in the cottage wasn't entirely straightforward. There was the matter of the goats' names, for example.
"But they've got to have names!" she said. "Everything's got a name."Finally she settled the child down, tucked her in, and crept quietly down stairs. The staff was back against the wall. She was not surprised to see that the fire hadn't marked it at all. Granny turned her rocking chair to face it, and sat down with her chin in her hand and an expression of grim determination. Presently the chair began to rock, of its own accord. It was the only sound in a silence that thickened and spread and filled the room like a terrible dark fog. Next morning, before Esk got up, Granny hid the staff in the thatch, well out of harm's way. Esk ate her breakfast and drank a pint of goat's milk without the least sign of the events of the last twenty-four hours. It was the first time she had been inside Granny's cottage for more than a brief visit, and while the old woman washed the dishes and milked the goats she