Fanta from the Fridge

David Hedges

Although Dad often talks about Mum – the perfume she wore, songs she liked, the way she’d sulk if he called her Katherine not Kate – there’s one thing he won’t talk about. He won’t talk about how Mum died. I know she was attacked by a dog and she didn’t suffer and stuff, but that’s about it. Gran did say something when I went up to visit last Christmas, though. Something she made me promise to keep secret at breakfast the next morning. She said it was black. The dog that killed Mum was black.

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