Summer 2013

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Faye hadn’t been quite sure what to feel about going back to work after such a long break, but Clarice was happily installed at nursery now and there was no longer any excuse for staying at home and eating biscuits. She’d managed to find a part-time post as the registrar at a small art gallery near Bond Street, but wasn’t even sure yet what the job was going to involve. Still, it would probably be easier than rushing around trying to accommodate the bizarre whims of a three-year-old. The gallery specialized in eighteenth century sculpture and portraiture, so there wouldn’t even be any capricious living artists to deal with. However much Faye might miss her days spent at home with her daughter, she couldn’t help feeling that work was going to be quite a lot easier than motherhood.  ‘You look like a queen, Mummy,’ said Clarice, catching her trying on her new pink suit.  Faye melted. While bringing up a child was relentless and complicated, it was also the most rewarding thing she had ever done. How could any job compare with that?