He’d had that awful nightmare again where Queenie and Vivian had locked him in a cupboard with no food or water and left him there to die.Relieved that it was not true, Albie smiled as he leaned towards Dorothy. ‘Happy birthday, my darling. I’ll go down and make us a cuppa, shall I?’When Dorothy did not stir, Albie decided to let her lie in for a bit while he made her some tea and toast. Dorothy was not a regular drinker of alcohol, only ever indulged on special occasions, but she’d gone out for a birthday meal with her old work colleagues from the library yesterday evening and drank a couple of snowballs. She had talked the hind legs off a donkey when she had arrived home, which had amused Albie and Bert immensely.‘Morning, Albie. Is the old lush not awake yet?’Albie chuckled. ‘No. I reckon she’s nursing a hangover. You going to the allotment this morning?’‘Yes, as soon as I’ve read my paper. You stay here with the birthday girl. I’ll water your patch for you.’Putting the tea and toast on the tray, Albie walked slowly up the stairs.
