I hit an obstruction and move across the garden to try another patch.
Bluebells. Grape Hyacinths. Violets. Lime green leaves on shrubs. It really is a lovely time of year. New growth. Birds sing with delight as I sink my spade into the sun warmed earth.
It’s Bin day tomorrow. It’d be easier to drop the ill named Lucky straight into the wheelie bin. I look up and see the children. Tear stained faces, noses pressed stickily against the window. One still clutching his ball.
Watching. Double glazing seals in the wails.
I’d promised a proper burial. So I dig.