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Walking With Dad

Dad said winter walks would toughen us up. Rain turned to sleet, soaking us through to our knickers. Numb-footed, our boots slipped on glistening rocks.

At the summit, he lined us up for a photo. Me in the middle, my sisters shivering either side. We put our hands on the trig point to steady ourselves against the wind.

“Try and look ‘appy!” he yelled.

My youngest sister whimpered.

“Hey, Dad,” I shouted. “This sky’s awesome. Try to get more of it in.”

He knew the rocks were icy. When the rescue team arrived, our cheeks were wet, but not with tears.



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