Charity capered merrily through the rows of trees, and Sylphia trailed along behind, gleaming in the half light, so that half the time Phi couldn’t be seen too clearly. Char was used to have Phi on her heels. They were inseparable, really. Some people hung on their heroes’ every word, but Sylphia fastened herself to Char’s every step. They dined together, and at night they slept together: Char in the bed, and Phi in the window’s moonlight.
Charity’s parents never mentioned Phi or addressed her, which she always felt was rather unwelcoming of her. Indeed, when Char shared secrets with Phi at the table, Charity’s mother and father sometimes looked as if they would ask what the big mystery was, but they always kept mum.
That night, as a wind blew up, dear Phi rose too, and lay atop her friend like a comforter, which she really was. She settled down gradually, Char sighing with content. She never fretted or complained again, after them.
The shadow never lifted from Mum and Dad’s hearts, either.
Ahh!
Bright days.