The great children's author and illustrator Shirley Hughes marks

Host: The soft hum of a busy café fills the air, the clink of cups and quiet conversations blending together. Jack sits at a table by the window, his fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, the warmth seeping into his hands. Outside, the rain drizzles down, a gentle mist that blurs the line between sky and earth. Jeeny leans against the counter, flipping through a magazine, but her eyes are distant, lost in thought.

Jeeny: “Did you hear about Shirley Hughes? The great children's author and illustrator? She marked her 90th birthday by appearing as Michael Berkeley’s guest on ‘Private Passions’.”

Jack: He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Ninety years old? That’s impressive. And she’s still making appearances at her age. It makes you think about how much time she’s spent shaping the world of children’s literature.”

Jeeny: “It’s not just about the years, Jack. It’s about the legacy she’s created. Think of all the children who grew up with her books, the worlds she brought to life with her illustrations. Her work shaped generations.”

Host: The mood shifts, as though the words between them open a window into something deeper. Jack’s expression softens, and Jeeny’s voice carries the warmth of reverence, like a careful brushstroke painting a quiet tribute.

Jack: “I get that. But 90 years... that’s a long time to stay relevant. Doesn’t it feel like a lot of people, once they reach a certain age, become more like history than contemporaries?”

Jeeny: She smiles, her eyes glistening with a kind of gentle warmth. “Not for everyone. Shirley Hughes didn’t just stop creating. She continued to share her stories, her experiences, long after most would have faded into the background. And there’s something remarkable in that, don’t you think?”

Jack: “Sure, but private passions and public fame aren’t always the same thing. Some people fade, no matter how important their contributions were. Hughes had a great run, no doubt, but is the idea of celebrating someone’s longevity in the public eye a way of keeping them from being forgotten?”

Jeeny: “That’s the beauty of it, Jack. Celebrating someone’s longevity isn’t about keeping them from fading. It’s about honoring how they’ve spent their time, what they’ve given, and the ways they’ve touched lives. Shirley Hughes didn’t fade — she evolved, and through her, so did we.”

Host: The room seems to warm, the low hum of the café now a distant backdrop to their conversation. Jack leans back in his chair, his eyes reflecting the steady thought of someone trying to align their perspective with a new idea, while Jeeny watches him, her posture gentle but certain.

Jack: “I guess I just wonder if we’re celebrating her legacy for the right reasons. It feels like there’s a shift happening in the way we view public figures. Are we appreciating them for who they were or for who we want them to be?”

Jeeny: “Maybe it’s both. Shirley Hughes wasn’t just an author or an illustrator — she was a part of something that mattered. Children’s literature is about shaping the future, after all. And for people to continue to celebrate her at 90, it’s because her work still holds meaning today. Generations of readers still feel that same connection to her stories.”

Host: The light outside grows dimmer as the rain begins to fall harder, but inside, the conversation remains warm. Jack watches Jeeny, his expression softening as the complexity of her words settles over him. The room is filled with the quiet tension of two minds trying to find common ground, the sound of the rain a constant, reassuring rhythm in the background.

Jack: “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s about the enduring nature of her work, and the way it connects people even decades later.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. She may be 90, but her passion for storytelling hasn’t faded. She’s still relevant because the stories she created are timeless. And as long as we continue to celebrate her work, she’s still with us.”

Host: The café is silent for a moment, save for the pattering of rain against the windows. Jack looks out, lost in thought, while Jeeny smiles softly to herself, her words echoing in the quiet space between them. The light shifts once again, this time with the glow of a new understanding that fills the room, like the glow of a softly burning flame.

Jack: “I think I get it now. We’re not just remembering her, we’re still living with her work, in the way it shapes the world. She may be 90, but her influence is still alive.”

Jeeny: “And that’s the most beautiful kind of legacy, isn’t it? To keep living, long after the years have passed.”

Host: The rain slows once again, and the city outside seems to hold its breath. Inside, the quiet of the café feels peaceful, the space between them filled not with disagreement, but with the quiet hum of shared understanding.