One Day in December

by Josie Silver

The more Lucille Ogilvy-Black looks down her nose at me, the less inclined I become to impress her.

I was, and am, impressed with him for being his mother’s rock, and I naively expected her to be warm and, well, motherly. I thought she’d be glad to see Oscar with someone who makes him happy, but if anything she seems hostile to my intrusion. Perhaps she’ll warm to me.