She lay in her cot listening to the sounds drift up from the rooms below
The radio was playing as usual and her Mummy and Daddy sounded busy.
Preparing food, by the clanging and chopping sounds? She listened harder… no sound of her brother. he was probably running an errand.
Outside the big St Bernard puppy, Lassie, yawning and whining noisily as she bumped about in the little yard, she’d grown massive in her dog house/garage.
She looked again at the doll placed in the cot with her. She did not love it at all, it was hard bodied and cold, with black wiry curly hair and black eyelashes that stuck out oddly of the clunky mechanical rolling eyelids.
She’d tried hard to pull those eyelashes out! Tiny toddler fingers pulling them down, desperately trying to cover those hard glassy eyes. Brown deep-set kaleidoscopic eyes that frightened her.
She lay paralysed in the cot, not wanting the attention of the evil spy dolly or particularly of the grown ups downstairs.
After a while she heard her brother return,
She knew he was back because of the change of tone in her Daddy’s voice from jovial sing-song to harsh barracking.
She hoped he’d be nice to her…
~ My parents ran a catering business from home, for the early part of my childhood. ~
~ My “big” brother would be sent on foot to the warehouse to pick up drums of oil and other bits of catering stuff.~