The Girl in the Picture

A few minutes later a sudden crash overhead followed by a yell tore me from my thoughts. ‘Dad!’, I cried in horror, racing upstairs.

I was relieved to find Dad sitting on the spare room bed, still holding one crutch, apparently unhurt. The cupboard door hung open and he was staring at a mess of papers spilled over the floor from a fallen box.

‘Dad!’ I said severely. ‘What have you been doing? If you wanted something I could have fetched it for you.’

‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’ He looked at me like a naughty puppy. ‘I remembered something.’ He leaned forward and poked at a pile of papers with the crutch.