Vera felt a little silly worrying so much about what she would wear. Slipping on a blue cashmere sweater with a broad round collar, she glanced at her image in the bedroom mirror. Jeans underneath would do, it's not like it was some formal occasion, and they were designer jeans, anyway. She could hear her two younger kids' conversation in the living room. She couldn't make it out. Well, hopefully that would change soon. And Dardana would no longer be able to trick her about her reports. And she would no longer have to sign excuse notes her children had written.
Vera brushed her hair and decided for some light make-up. Dardana had her face, it was becoming increasingly obvious. The same square-cut features, the heavy jaw, that still managed to be pretty. Only Dardana was prettier, of course, unless that had only to with the fact that she was fourteen and Vera over forty. Vera wondered idly, as she did increasingly these days, where Dardana was. Shouldn't she be at home after her dance class, by now.
Dardana would be fine, Vera told herself. They weren't in Pristine any more, things were different here. Her husband would be home late too, late from work, probably when Vera was well returned and all of them were fast asleep. None of them got to see much of him these days. But he'd been very much in favour of the French courses. Presumably because, apart from interacting more easily with the children, it would be a way for Vera to occupy herself.
She slipped on her jacket and collected her handbag. "I'll be back in a couple of hours or so, there's casserole in the fridge if you get hungry." she called over before stepping out of the flat.
It was getting dark earlier with the coming fall, as Vera made her way towards Dardana's school.
[This is a new project I'm mulling, based on "parents' schools", an idea I've had for a while, actually and might use for NaNoWriMo this year].