Page 116 of The Seaside Homecoming
“Look!” Mr. Filonov called, pointing out to sea.
Glad for the distraction, Claire joined the others in turning to discover what he was gesturing at. Then she saw them: several dolphins jumping in the distance, traveling eastward.
“A rare treat,” Armaan said. “I have heard dolphins are sometimes seen near Branscombe, to the east, but I’ve not seen them here before.”
They watched until the animals grew small and distant and finally disappeared from view.
“A rare treat, indeed,” Claire echoed.
Mr. Hammond nodded. “This entire outing has been a delight, and one we shall have to repeat. However, that seems a fitting end for today, I think.”
The others agreed and began packing up their things. As they did, Claire asked Mr. Filonov if she could see his painting, but he demurred, saying it was not yet complete.
After their beach outing, Sonali suffered a headache she attributed to too much sun. Claire urged her to retire early with a cool cloth over her brow, offering to read to Mira and put her to bed herself.
In the nursery that evening, Mira showed Claire where her nightclothes were kept, and Claire helped the girl change and clean her teeth.
She had planned to read a book to her, but Mira had a different idea.
“Will you oil my hair? Since Sonali is not feeling well?”
“Oh. I ... would be happy to attempt it, although I have never done so before.”
“I can tell you how. It’s easy. Warm the oil, rub it in.”
“Sounds simple enough when you say it like that.”
“It is!”
Together they gathered towels, fetched a bowl of hot water from the kitchen kettle, and warmed the oil bottle in it.
Claire sat in a chair and Mira sat on the soft rug at her feet. She draped a towel over the girl’s shoulders in case the oil dripped and began combing out Mira’s hair and parting it into sections. Tentatively, she tested the oil to make sure it was not too hot. It felt warm and silky to the touch. Reassured, she dabbed it onto the parts she’d made in the girl’s hair.
Claire then massaged Mira’s scalp. “Is that all right?” she asked. “Too hard? Too soft?”
“Just right. Rub it all the way to the ends.”
Claire relished the tender, maternal task. It reminded her of her girlhood. As the eldest, she had often helped her younger sisters, brushing their hair, helping them dress, and reading them stories. Soothing them after bad dreams or minor falls and scrapes. Gently shushing them in church when Mamma was not there to do so. It had all come naturally to Claire. She had always longed to be a mother and raise her own children. Considering she would soon be nine and twenty, that dream seemed about to slip through her fingers, like the fine strands of Mira’s hair.
Mr. Hammond came into his daughter’s room and stopped midstride.
Noticing him, Mira said, “Papa! You could oil Miss Claire’s hair while she does mine.”
“Oh, em ... I would be happy to, but I don’t think that would be ... wise.”
“Why?”
“Miss Summers is ... Well, she’s our friend, but she’s not quite family.” He glanced at Claire, then away again. “And though you cannot see it, she is blushing deeply at the mere mention of such a liberty.”
Claire swallowed hard. “Still, kind of you to think of me,Mira.” She risked a glance at him, and if she was not mistaken, he looked rather flushed as well.
He cleared his throat. “I came up to hear your prayers, but I shall return later. I see you are in good hands.”
After he had gone, Claire finished running the oil through to the ends and then plaited Mira’s hair.
Finished with the task, she washed her hands in the still-warm water and spread a clean towel over Mira’s pillow.
Mira knelt beside the bed.
