These pages are a collection of stories from the Writer's Group at Box Hill U3A.
As I put my father's clothes into the drawer, I felt what I thought was a box. Carefully moving clothes I saw it was a gun, to my amazement.
I was terrified and for some reason - I wasn't able to tell Mum. It never occurred to me she may already know.
I had difficulty sleeping and that gun haunted me.
Perhaps three weeks later Mum suggested we go for a walk. She wanted to post letters and show me the new fish pond at the golf club.
As we walked down the hill to the bridge we saw children throwing stones into the water.
When they left, Mum fumbled in her bag and showed me the hand gun and said, "Here - do you want to throw it into the water?"
Shocked -1 wanted to cry. Mum had known.
As I watched the gun sink in deep water, she said quite brightly, "Well -that's that. We'll see the fish another time."
To this day I've never known the story behind that hand gun.
I do know if my father had found out about Mum's man friend - Oh well - he was capable of anything.