“Can I see it again?”
“It’s locked up. Out there,” he said, pointing towards the back of the garden, at a small wooden shed painted green, which I remembered was full of rusty tools.
Suddenly, from the kitchen, Aunt Paulette’s high-pitched laugh erupted, immediately followed by the gleeful howling of my cousins. “Oh, Baby!” she squealed, “You’re such a pretty girl!” The excitement among the four of them crescendoed as she kept repeating, “Such a pretty girl,” in between bursts of laughter while Uncle Larry stared at the TV, a blank expression on his slackened face.
Finally, the ruckus subsided and, after one last snort, my aunt commanded, “Girls, it’s time for tea.” Soon, my cousins barged in. Marie-Ange was first, with a white tablecloth under her arm that she unfolded in one swift ges
