Glenys always thought it a bind to visit her father. Every other Sunday. 1 o’clock. Military precision.
Major Arthur Thompson didn’t do late and today he was sorely disappointed with his daughter.
Tapping his cane on the floor with the ticking clock, he started to hum the theme tune to Dad’s Army, then chuckled as he replayed the TV introduction in his mind. It kept him busy while he was waiting.
He stood up when he heard a car pull up outside. Using his cane to support himself, he growled as his knees clicked, and a pain shot up his right thigh.
Walking as sternly as he could towards the front door, he stopped when he saw two tall, dark figures behind the frosted glass. He moved forward again as the bell rang and putting on the chain, opened the door a fraction.
“Mr Thompson?” one of the men asked.
“Major, but yes,” Arthur replied, knowing in an instant why they were there.
“May we come in?” the other man asked.
“Do you have ID?”
Arthur released the chain and opened the door, beckoning for the men to step inside.
The men removed their helmets and joined Arthur in the hall.
As the Sergeant went to speak, Arthur remembered the moment his daughter was born; two weeks late and he knew, he’d never have to complain about her being late again.
Photography courtesy of morguefile.com.
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