” 109 < 15 > AN AFFAIR TO FORGET, 1965 “What was your real Mom like?” Michelle asked when they were walking to school the next day. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. Now, it won't do a bit of good to warn Spurlock. White Sears special-order orthopedic shoes, polyester pants, and cotton print blouses were her usual weekend attire. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her.
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