His Name Was Walter chapter sampler

he went to look. The top of the desk was covered with pale, ragged rings where mugs of hot tea had stood, and it was littered with paper — lists of measurements, scribbled drawings, hastily written sums … The drawers underneath were empty. The pigeonholes at the back were empty, too, and thickly filmed with dust. But the desk was beautifully made. It was the work of someone who loved wood. Like Grandad, Colin thought, his heart twisting in his chest. Grandad who died owing so much money to the bank that we had to sell the property, move to the city, leave everything we loved behind … ‘This is really nice,’ he found himself saying aloud, his hand on the scarred surface of the desk. ‘It’d be worth fixing up. That guy — the tow-truck guy — probably doesn’t realise. We should tell him …’ ‘Yes, we should certainly do that,’ Mrs Fiori said with false heartiness, eyeing the little desk doubtfully. ‘You like old furniture, do you, Colin?’ Colin nodded. Already he regretted opening his mouth. He saw that Grace was looking amused. Lucas hadn’t even bothered to look round. They probably thought that anyone Colin’s age who cared about old furniture must be incredibly boring. Well, that was their problem. ‘Sometimes desks like this have hidden compart- ments,’ he said, out of some reckless desire to prove he knew what was what. And he felt around, found the right places to press, and with satisfaction heard Grace’s

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