"Samantha, what do you think heaven is like?" My sister and I were sitting on the bench beside the pond where Father often sat with us before he died.
Samantha didn't answer at first, instead hugging me close. As much as I liked the embraces, I was getting rather tired of all the weepy females. It certainly made it very difficult to keep a stiff upper lip, as always instructed by Father.
I looked longingly up to the house thinking perhaps I could sneak away from the bench and into the kitchen for a biscuit before tea.
"Oh, Bertie. I think heaven is a wonderful place with angels, and women in white dresses and baskets overflowing with the most beautiful flowers and all sorts of beautiful things." she cooed.
"What rot!" I said, squirming out of her grasp and making for the front door.