When the meal is finished, and Daisy and Lousia are off to the other side of the kitchen tidying up, Dunstan rises easily from his seat.
"Coming?" he asks and grins at the blank look he receives in return, eyes crinkling and face looking suddenly younger. "You don't want to see then?"
He laughs at the sudden, scrambling attention and with a nod to his wife (a nod of understanding) he leads the way down the hall and up into the attic. The one the children hadn't been allowed into.
'Just a pile of old junk,' they had always said, and perhaps it was true - but in and among the dusty old boxes, in some far-off corner, tucked away and carefully kept, lies a worn wicker basket.
It's at that corner that he stops and seats himself with care - and, perhaps, the slightest creaking of bones - gesturing for his son to join him.
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"Coming?" he asks and grins at the blank look he receives in return, eyes crinkling and face looking suddenly younger. "You don't want to see then?"
He laughs at the sudden, scrambling attention and with a nod to his wife (a nod of understanding) he leads the way down the hall and up into the attic. The one the children hadn't been allowed into.
'Just a pile of old junk,' they had always said, and perhaps it was true - but in and among the dusty old boxes, in some far-off corner, tucked away and carefully kept, lies a worn wicker basket.
It's at that corner that he stops and seats himself with care - and, perhaps, the slightest creaking of bones - gesturing for his son to join him.