I lead her out of the lift when the doors open and I notice that she is focused on one of my Mother's paintings as I lead her through the foyer. I want to tell her about them, but that would be against the rules. I can't resist when I see which one has caught her interest though.
"Beautiful, isn't it? It's my favourite."
"It's incredible. Do you know the artist?" She looks like she wants to reach out and touch it. For some reason, it pleases me that she likes it.
"My mother." I hear the pride in my voice, but I wonder if she will hear it too. "All of them, they are all hers."
I used to love watching my mother paint as a child. She even tried to teach me, but I would always compare my pictures with her masterpieces and be sorely disappointed in them.
Mum wasn't though. She used to co
