ncert books class 11 english snapshots chapter 2 · Section 3

Snapshots My mother seemed to notice that I was not entirely convinced. She looked at me reprovingly and after that we spoke no more about it. Meanwhile I had arrived at the station without having paid much attention to things on the way. I was walking in familiar places again for the first time since the War, but I did not want to go further than was necessary. I didn’t want to upset myself with the sight of streets and houses full of memories from a precious time. In the train back I saw Mrs Dorling in front of me again as I had the first time I met her. It was the morning after the day my mother had told me about her. I had got up late and, coming downstairs, I saw my mother about to see someone out. A woman with a broad back. ‘There is my daughter,’ said my mother. She beckoned to me. The woman nodded and picked up the suitcase under the coat-rack. She wore a brown coat and a shapeless hat. ‘Does she live far away?’ I asked, seeing the difficulty she had going out of the house with the heavy case. ‘In Marconi Street,’ said my mother. ‘Number . Remember that.’ I had remembered it. But I had waited a long time to go there. Initially after the Liberation I was absolutely not interested in all that stored stuff, and naturally I was also rather afraid of it. Afraid of being confronted with things that had belonged to a connection that no longer existed; which were hidden away in cupboards and boxes and waiting in vain until they were put back in their place again; which had endured all those years because they were ‘things.’ But gradually everything became more normal again. Bread was getting to be a lighter colour, there was a bed you could sleep in unthreatened, a room with a view you were more used to glancing at each day. And one day I noticed I was curious about all the possessions that must still be at that address. I wanted to see them, touch, remember. After my first visit in vain to Mrs Dorling’s house I decided to try a second time. Now a girl of about fifteen opened the door to me. I asked her if her mother was at home. ‘No’ she said, ‘my mother’s doing an errand.’ ‘No matter,’ I said, ‘I’ll wait for her.’ -