In Lieu of Currants

Dad’s favourite was a Fruit Slice, although he called it something else. One day I decided to bake him one as a treat. Nicer than a shop’s.

I’d watched mummy make pastry, so that was easy once I had the flour, eggs and milk.

Getting the main ingredient was harder and took me a good few hours.

Anyway, at tea time I brought dad his treat.

‘A Fly Cemetery, magic,’ he beamed before taking a bite.

‘Aye, I went and caught all the flies in a jar before putting them in the pie.’

Dad retched and emptied his guts everywhere.