A GOLDDIGGER

Always green the little house, his mother’s choice, his father not consulted. Had she agreed, her son saw no reason to change. Green since, a little boy, he would leave in the morning under his tight school cap, his grey socks tugged to his knees and held by elastic garters, the taut straps of his leather satchel over both shoulders, for the nearby primary where fear of Mrs Wells and Mr Stanton, an inordinate desire to please, and native intelligence ensured excellent progress. The watch he checked as he pulled the door closed was part of his twenty-first present from his parents.