Lovely dinner. Thank you, Laura,’ said Kirsty, putting down her knife and fork.
Laura smiled at her daughter’s polite friend. She loved it when Helen brought her round for meals.
‘I’m not hungry,’ Helen sighed, pushing away her plate.
‘But it’s roast chicken,’ said George. ‘Your favourite! What’s the matter?’
His daughter frowned. ‘Nothing.’
‘Come on, not eating your favourite dinner is hardly nothing,’ George persisted.
‘She’s upset that Her Voice has split,’ Laura explained.