eight
Shelly was watching the children racing around the play apparatus with a melancholy look upon her face.
“How fast has the time gone?” She smiled up at Rose as she set the drinks down. “Remember when we camped out in my garden overnight when we were eight?”
“I remember,” Rose replied. “Your tent was huge, almost as big as the entire lawn.”
“Dad brought us hot dogs and fries and a family-size trifle to share. Some days, I forget he’s not here anymore.” Shelly gave a big sniff. “I’d give anything to talk to him again.”
Rose reached across to give Shelly’s arm a consoling rub. “He’d be proud of you. Hadn’t he wanted to live in Australia himself?”
“New Zealand,” Shelly corrected, “but Mum wouldn’t leave England and now she doesn’t know where she is. Poor Mum…” Shelly trailed off
