I knew it wasn’t my sister, because she knocked like the police serving a warrant. ‘I’ll be right out,’ I called.‘Let me...in,’ I heard my grandmother say, ‘I want to show you something.’I pulled my shorts up and unlocked the door. Gramma came in wearing a white, floor length dressing gown. ‘Do you mind?’ she asked.‘No,’ I answered, backing up to let her in, ‘Not at all.’Gramma stepped into the room and locked the. His father had been in the Merchant Navy and had brought home all sorts of things from around the world that Richard had been loath to get rid of when he died. Among those things was a horse-hair fly whisk. It would make a super swishing sound but hardly do more than tickle her buttocks.Richard spent much of Tuesday morning rootling round in the attic. Inevitably he found plenty of digressions: photographs, letters, diaries and even an exercise book with a short story by his mother. He also. More

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