SHE TOOK ONE LOOK at Lois’s weary face, and went off to light the fire in the sitting room. When she came back, she said, “I’ve put the telly on and it’s The Clangers. Why don’t you sit down and watch for a bit. You know how you loved them.” Lois looked at her sharply and frowned. “Kids’ television? I haven’t sunk that low, Mum. Anyway, I’ve got a few notes to make.” She hesitated at the kitchen door. “Still, I suppose I could do those later . . . Are you sure it’s The Clangers now?” The twilit other-world of the tiny knitted creatures, with piping sounds their only form of communication, the soup dragon and the trumpeting hoots, were oddly soothing. Maybe Darren would be more at home on the Clangers’ planet. The pleasant voice of the story-teller lulled her into a calm that soon turned to a doze. Gran later came in with the tea tray, with a pot-bellied teapot under a quilted tea-cosy, and set it down. Lois opened her eyes. “Oh, has it finished?” she said, and sat up straight.
