‘Who you?’ the little girl asked. ‘Harry,’ Harry replied. ‘What ya doin’?’ she asked. ‘I’m sitting here waiting for my tea to brew,�...� Harry answered. ‘Wha’s that?’ ‘My tea,’ he reiterated, adding ‘and … I’ve got a toasted tea-cake coming.’ ‘Wha’s that?’ ‘It’s just like your scone, only it will be be warm and I will just have butter with it, no jam.’ ‘Oh,’ she said, stuffing another nubbin of sultana spotted scone in her mouth. ‘Are you enjoying that?’ Harry thought it was about time he started. I still am.Linda told me when we decided to end our non-existent relationship that she had never been sure whether I wanted to be with her or with her mother. That hurt mainly because there was some truth in it. I was still having a crush on Marjorie. A motherly peck on the cheek from Marjorie had had more impact on me than a kiss on the lips from Linda.That had been three years ago. Now I was standing close behind Marjorie with a slight scent of her perfume reminding me how much I had felt for. More

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