‘ I don’t want to go.’
I was adamant, inclined to render myself boneless, sink to the floor and become lead. My mother glared at me.
‘You’ll get your socks dirty if you lie on the floor. And we are all going.’
She would have sounded cold to a stranger, but this was an old tactic of mine that was exhausting its credibility. Perhaps I had been overusing it. I was nine after all. My Father looked in....