Chapter Nine
Star Wars and More
A rissole, a rissole, my kingdom for a rissole!
The schoolchildren skipped around the car park, wondering what their storyteller was going to do, until the childcare assistant appeared at the community centre’s entrance.
“She’s here,” shouted one of the boys.
“She’ll be telling stories soon,” yelled another.
“Shhh, there’s a meeting. And you must be . . .” The assistant, catching sight of Beatrice steering herself out of the van, stopped.
The fluorescent-green tombstone on the back of Beatrice’s wheelchair wobbled, despite Helen’s best attempts to secure the egg boxes. It was so high that the slightest bump had it ricocheting like a tower of bricks in a wheelbarrow.
Sheryl, under the instructions of Beatrice via scribbled diagrams, had constructed an
