CHAPTER 21 – TOM
CHICAGOWinter was coming. He could smell it in the air – it had a beautiful crispness that always arrived in Mysłowice in late October, just before All Saints Day. This year, it had come early and on the radio they were saying that there might well be snow by the weekend.
“Conkers!” Adam shouted, “We want to collect conkers! Will you take us? Oh please will you take us?”
How long had he been sitting down? No longer than ten minutes. He could feel the tiredness in his body – it seeped into every fragment of him.
But there he was – his little boy, with determination painted onto his three-year-old face. He was so confident that his wish would be granted, that he was already pulling on his hat.
“Have you asked your mother?”
It was a useless question. He knew that she wo
