by Pip Granger
Soon after that, the party broke up and I was safely in bed when I heard Maggie and Bert climbing the stairs, whispering quietly.
‘I know what you mean, Maggie, I caught the likeness too, just for a second. It was the way that doorway framed ’em when he was holding her. Still, it’s likely we’ll never know for sure. Probably best if we keep our thoughts on that particular subject under our hats. What d’you think, old girl, eh?’
I heard a slap and a giggle. ‘Less of the ‘‘old’’, you. I’ll have you know that I’m in my prime and don’t you forget it.’
And Uncle Bert didn’t forget it. None of us did; my auntie Maggie wouldn’t let us. And we never forgot the summer of the Queen’s Coronation either, or its ending. We celebrate what we call Rosie Day every year and everybody comes, including the man everyone thinks is my dad.
THE END