Logan smiled back. “Welcome to the crazy Du Rose firm.”
David nodded, his face flushing in pleasure. He watched the little girl scoff her food. “I haven’t used my tax number since I was a small boy doing a paper round back in Hamilton.”
“I’ll sort the forms out for you later,” Logan answered, pulling a face at the baby as she pressed food in and out of her mouth.
David pondered on his parents’ big move to England, to the lazy city of Norwich tucked away near the east coast. He sighed. Was it really twenty five years ago? He remembered his reluctance at leaving his school and friends and shook his head, a whole swathe of his life gone from under him with nothing to show for it.
The child was like a baby bird, opening her mouth for the food, swilling it around and then swallowing, repeat
