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A few days later, I bumped into Pete the postman outside my house. There were only two properties in Mill Lane, and neither my neighbour nor I received very many letters, so he didn’t come along the lane every day. Sometimes as much as a week could go by without my seeing him, but he always greeted me like an old friend. Petting Poppy, he commented on how much she had grown. It was true. Since she had first come to live with me, she had grown visibly sturdier. Her coat looked fluffy and glossy, and her eyes were lively and bright. As Pete was remarking on the improvement in her appearance, it occurred to me that I might enlist his help in my mission to acquire some foreign stamps for my nephew. In a roundabout way, I explained my problem.
‘My mother still hasn’t forgiven me for forg
