Linda, As in the Linda Murder

89

Jan Lewin dreams every night now. Almost every night about that summer almost fifty years ago when he got his first proper bicycle and his dad taught him to ride it. But not about the bicycle, not about his red Crescent Valiant, but about that summer, and about the day when his dad suddenly had to go into town.

Daddy hadn’t taken the bus like he usually did. Instead Grandad drove out in his car to pick him up. Daddy seemed tired. ‘See you soon,’ Daddy said, ruffling Jan’s hair, but this time everything didn’t go back to normal when he did so.

Then Grandad had ruffled Jan’s hair as well, and that was strange because it was the first time in his whole life that Grandad had ever ruffled his hair.

‘You’ll have to take over, Jan, and be the man of the house and help Mummy while Daddy’s in town,’ Grandad said.

‘I promise,’ Jan said.