EightVicky walked into the kitchen, arms full of washing as Jasper sat at the kitchen table with a set of coloured pencils, drawing in his pad. “What do you want for breakfast, sunshine?” Vicky said.
“Toast please, Mummy,” Jasper said as he picked up a green pencil.
“Okay. Just give us a minute. I'll pop this in the wash then do it.”
“Thank you, Mummy.”
She opened a side door at the far side of the kitchen, heading out into a cool utility room. She busied herself with putting the wash on, noting that the weather had taken a turn for the worse. A few cleaning products were put back in cupboards as the washing machine started its cycle. Vicky looked towards the window as the first pitter-patter of rain began to fall. A shudder ran through her body as she headed back into the kitchen. “Do
