The queue is out the door. Dorothy waits in a focused, vengeful way for her double order of battered cod, mushy peas, and chips.
Back home, she unfolds the treasure. Enjoys bitter ale, a chocolate bar with nuts.
So what if I’m fat?
So what?
Once, she caught Frank with her best friend. This was a picnic on a heath somewhere – 1962.
Vivee is gone now, Frank also.
Dorothy and Frank met during wartime. She was thin and shy then, almost invisible. Frank kissed her bony, waiflike hand.
At first sight, I knew, he always said.
