He was known as a fixer, and his daughter idolised him for it. Doll heads reattached, loose wires fixed and cracks glued.
He wished he’d never started on the Slinky.
It had been hanging from the wardrobe for two weeks, mocking him in a mass of garbled metal. He had tried everything to untangle it.
He glared at it from the bed as a small hand appeared on his. “It’s ok Daddy. You can’t fix everything.”
He smiled with relief at her innocent face. She smiled back.
“Can you come to the Wendy House please? The door is falling off.”
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