‘I met the sweetest little old lady on the way back from the shops,’ my wife said.
I was up a ladder painting the kitchen ceiling so I was only half listening to her. We had just moved in and there was so much work to be done on the place.
‘She was a bit odd though,’ she went on.
‘Uh huh,’ I replied.
‘She said it was lovely to have children around the area again.’
I put down the roller and wiped my paint splattered face with a rag.
We chosen this cottage, this area because it was quiet and far from the hectic city life we’d come to despise.
‘She said there haven’t been children around here for years and it was so nice to hear their laughter again.’
I thought for a moment. ‘Well, I suppose it makes sense. Not much work around here, so I guess the young people leave as soon as they can.’
‘That’s not the way it seemed. And before she went on her way she said ‘you look after them, never let them out of your sight’.
‘She’s probably the village nutcase. Where are the girls anyway?’