Ketchup Clouds [antikvár]

1 Fiction Road Bath August 1 st i Dear Mr S Harris, Ignore the blob of red in the top left corner. It's jam not blood, though I don't think 1 need to tell you the difference. It wasn't your wife's jam the police found on your shoe. The jam in the corner's from my sandwich. Homemade raspberry. Gran made it. She's been dead seven years and making that jam was the last thing she did. Sort of. If you ignore the weeks she spent in hospital attached to one of those heart things that goes beep beep if you're lucky or beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep if you're not. That was the sound echoing round the hospital room seven years ago. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. My little sister was born six months later and Dad named her after Gran. Dorothy Constance. When Dad stopped grieving, he decided to shorten it. My sister is small and round so we ended up calling her Dot. [1]