Listen to contributor Peggy Frew read her fiction ‘Wildflowers’.

IT HAD TAKEN Meg a long time to convince Nina. Many lengthy phone calls. During these Nina had experienced a lot of trouble staying on the line. She walked around the flat she was living in then, the tired-feeling one, from the front door to the bedroom to the kitchen; she fingered the brown edges of the leaves on her ailing maidenhair fern, crumbling beige dust onto the windowsill; she lay across the end of the bed and raised her legs in the air.