A city park on a summer’s day, in the 1960s.
‘I think you’ve killed him, Brian.’
‘How was it me? I wasn’t the one who let the dog off the lead.’
‘Mum’s going to go spare,’ Henry whispered. ‘And at you, mainly.’
‘You’re the older one,’ Brian huffed. ‘You’re meant to set me an example.’
The brothers stopped bickering for long enough to stare down at the park keeper lying flat on his back in the long grass.
Eventually, there was a spluttering sound, followed by a gasp as the man sat slowly up on his elbows and looked about. His navy-blue park keeper’s hat had rolled away to the left, leaving his dark hair exposed and making him, Brian thought, look like a startled scarecrow.
The keeper turned to his right and came nose-to-glossy-nose with a wiry-haired salt-and-pepper grey lurcher, who licked him enthusiastically.
‘You all right, mister?’ Brian enquired, pushing his blond fringe away from his freckled face.
The park keeper pulled a fabric handkerchief from his sleeve, rubbed his forehead and looked over at the boys standing at his feet.
‘I think so,’ he answered slowly, gently patting down his uniform to make sure nothing was broken. He then adjusted his wonky name badge, which stated he was Eric Berry.
‘Give us a hand up, will you, lads?’
The youngsters offered their hands to pull the still slightly shaky gentleman to his feet.
‘Sorry about my brother’s
