She handed me a crumpled black and white photograph.
“She only looks about five,” I said
“No, she’s nearly six now.”
Automatically, I glanced down the aisles for the child.
My supervisor smiled.
“She just let go of my hand,” she whimpered, urging me to the microphone.
“Don’t distress yourself,” I said.
“Would Colleen Barton come to Customer Service.”
“We couldn’t wait to see how old you were Mrs. Barton.” I said to the elderly lady.
‘Mum does get quite confused. After all, she is ninety-two.”