Opening the warm paper, a steam of vinegar and chips rushed out at us. ‘Mmm, fish and chips,’ I murmured, tucking in. My children Gracie, eight, and Archie, five, blew on their chips as their grandad Jim smiled – we were visiting him at his home at a marina.
It was a hot June day and once we’d polished off our chippy tea, the kids chorused in unison: ‘Ice lollies!’
‘I’ve got some in freezer,’ Grandad smiled at them.
‘I’ll go and get them,’ I said.
I went inside with Grandad, leaving the kids in his back garden patio for a few seconds.
I’d just grabbed the lollies when I heard Archie screaming, and I ran out.
‘What is it?’ I cried.
‘Gracie!’ he cried, sobbing.
He ran off, hands…
