It had arrived late post on the Saturday, of course I am going back years . Addressed to my father who was away on business, my mother put it in the hall cupboard where it remained. It was young William found it when we were going through the place following mother’s funeral. Amazing what you recall with a prompt from an object. Clear as day I could see my mother’s face, she turned pale as a ghost then a pink that became scarlet; her lips set into a thin line and she placed the parcel in that cupboard.
“Can I open it granddad? Please.” William asked me. It was then I saw the writing was in my father’s hand so I took it and redirected it. Sent it on to him where he still lives with his mistress. Whatever is in it can stay unknown like him.