Mary woke with a start, her handbag was singing. Mary called for help, then wondered was she seven years one week and four days old. She remembered having a birthday party. Recalling all the adults gathered around her. They had looked so old. Yet she knew them all. She had seen them develope from tiny babies. Watched them go to school. She had supported them though teenage years. Had attended marriages and funerals.

She recalled driving an ambulance, hearing moans of despair. That was the first time she had met Fred. She had gone on to marry him. She recalled Fred walking down St Margaret’s on his prosthetic legs. She recalled all the children she had borne. She smiled briefly Fred having no legs had not prevented them having children. But why was her handbag singing.

Then she saw a smile, it belonged to Joan. Joan was telling her not to worry, it was only a mobile phone. Remember Mary you put it in your bag for safekeeping.  Then Joan asked Mary if she would like some Horlick before going to go to bed. Because being one hundred years old was tiring, let alone adding one week and four day’s on top.