uick, catch that chicken!” David dropped the small, black rucksack he used instead of a briefcase, and dived on top of the chicken which was making its escape through the kitchen.
“That was funny, Daddy, wasn’t it?” beamed his daughter, looking angelic in her school uniform as feathers scattered in all directions and the new puppy wriggled in her arms.
“Thanks darling,” said his wife as she clomped wearily up the muddy path in her Wellington boots.
“Any eggs?” he asked.
She took the chicken from him. “Only two.”
David’s teenage son from his first marriage, Tom, drifted in, munching on toast and plugged into ...