IT WAS A PRETTY VASE – or an ugly vase, depending on your taste for these things. It had fragments of coloured glass stuck to it in a random pattern, and she wondered what had been broken to produce these odd shapes. As Gloria circled the vase, she recognised a willow tree pattern, a gold rim, a fish’s tail. Where had these pieces come from – a discarded plate, a teacup, a bathroom tile perhaps.
The vase had the distinct semblance of a human form – a neck and pinched-in waist, handles for arms, and a perfectly rounded belly. It was like Gloria was working it out, appreciating the skill and assembly, but at the same time, not liking it, really not liking it.
It presented her with a quandary. Should she display the vase based on the skill in its making, or on its visual appeal? To her, the vase didn’t seem to have either of these qualities. However, a third option entered her mind: her friendship for the couple who gave it. She really should display the vase – it was after all a gift, but where on earth could she put it where it wouldn’t be too obvious?
As she was pondering the vase’s future, her husband staggered down the stairs. The clatter of saucepans and the chink of crockery had woken him. Why doesn’t she just leave it, there’s all day to do it! It had been a long evening, the wine had flowed, and his head hurt. Gloria had excelled with the food, as usual. He must remember to say something, compliment her.
Giles poured himself a glass of water and sat at the kitchen table.
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