fictional worlds to escape to, which I’m certain stops us all going completely batty.’
I knew exactly what he meant.
‘Here’s a pearl of wisdom for you. In life always remember you’re the author of your own story.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t let life be something that happens to you. Write it yourself.’
It was the type of thing my dad would probably have said to me. Edie was lucky to have her father still. To have him alive and eating apples, not drowned and buried in a coffin in the ground.
Max patted the table then stood. ‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘Enough of that nonsense. My book calls.’
‘Thank you for supper,’ I said, pleased I’d remembered it was supper not tea.
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