Twenty-Six Year Old: Harry ‘Rabbit’ Angstrom

Miriam 'Mim' Angstrom 19

Miriam, dolled up in gold and jet for Friday night, picks at her food indifferently and offers a spoonful to the kid; the reach of her slender white braceleted arm across the steaming table rings a barbaric chord into the scene. She makes up too much; at nineteen she would be good enough without green eyelids. Because she has buck teeth she tries not to smile. Nelson’s big whorly head dips on its bright neck and his foreshortened hand, dots of pink, dabbles towards to spoon, wants to take it from her. Pop’s face lurches into laughter above his plate, and Mim’s lips leap into a grin that cracks her cautious wised-up squint and breaks through to the little girl Rabbit used to ride on his handlebars, her streaming hair tickling his eyes as they coasted down the steep Mt Judge streets.