Janet Greene closed the front door. She rather liked Keith and had become rather fond of him. But it was the fondness that one feels for a pet and he could be irritating in the same way a pet can be. She fancied he was an old English Sheepdog. Loyal, dependable. No, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t hairy enough. A Labrador then. No, not enough bounce. Ah, she thought, a retriever. Like a guide dog. Calm, sensible, reliable. He even had the right hair colour hidden away under his milkman’s cap.

Janet shuffled a couple of steps down the hall and put her phone on the charging stand on the hall table. She hated wearing it; it was heavy and pendulous and she kept snagging it. Everyone was so concerned about her after that silly fall. She knew perfectly well it was her own fault she’d fallen and the only factor old age had contributed was a momentary lapse in concentration. Her daughter wouldn’t let her store anything on the top shelves now and had packed a lot of rarely used plates into boxes and put them in storage

Chapter 3

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s