Franklin Street
Weak sepia sunlight warmed the wooden draining board, tiny feet kicked excitedly at the prospect of auntie Katie’s arrival. Seated on his precipitous perch, the little boy could barely contain himself, his baby eyes seen only the chink of light as Katy appeared at the door with his mother ‘ma wee soul, come tae Katy ma wee lamb, it’s yir birthday darlin’ come an’ see whit ah’ve goat fur ye ‘ Katy pulled his little body into her fur coat and swirled him dizzy in her bosom. She grinned her...