Emilie Richards - The Parting Glass

Bridie was almost a daily visitor now, and Peggy had quickly grown dependent on the eleven-year-old’s common sense and insight, as well as her help.

“Red.” Bridie picked up a red sweater and dropped it on the small table where Kieran was sitting in the “classroom” Peggy had made for him. She picked up a red slipper she’d brought from home and put that on the table, too. “Red.” A third item, a lovely polished apple, followed the other two. “Red.”

Kieran showed as little interest as usual, standing, then wandering around the table. Peggy gently guided him back to his little chair, and when he sat at her instruction, she gave him a tiny fish-shaped cracker.

Bridie had cleared the table in the interim. This time she set out a giant red crayon. “Point to red,” she said. “Where’s red, Kieran?”

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