"Something smells nice" Hawnlica stated as slid out of bed and rose to her feet.

'Certain smells can raise the dead, or at least the idle, roast chicken, no doubt about it, all the trimmings too, I love a Sunday roast; it's one tradition we kept and I never grow tired of' she thought.

She picked up a jumper dress from the floor and slipped it over her head.

'By the way, I get a scrub in the night; it's peaceful, I don't need to rush at all and I'm not hogging the bathroom when my mum or brother 'need it more than I do', so before anybody get asks, I'm reasonably clean' she informed us before applying aerosol deodorant then pulling the garment over her body.

She left her a room and glided downstairs with speed to the open plan kitchen and seating room.

"Hey Hawnlica" A male voice yelled through walls.

"I know Dad, it's... quarter to 10 and I'm only getting up now... wait! Has that clock finally stopped?" she accused whilst double taking at the grandmother clock at the bottom of the stairs.

"Nah', you're up in the morning for a change, which is good, coz I need you to go the shop and get me some gravy granules" he confirmed.

"Dad, seriously" she moaned

"Don't be lazy, it's a 10 minute walk max'" he replied

"I'm not being lay', it's just" she huffed before continuing "Gravy granules Dad, we've had this chat before; why would you go to the effort of preparing this beautiful roast, a genius concoction perfected over so many hours slaving away, and the ingredients Dad; an animal; hand reared and sacrificed, bloods sweat and tears poured into crops that have then been harvested, then what do you do Dad?" she finally asked.

"What?" he asked.

"You douse it in washing up tasting, diarrhoea looking, values gravy! Why Dad, why do you insist on doing this?" Hawnlica asked with faux exasperation.

In a vacant manner, he replied "It's traditional"

'So, I lost - pushed out the house on the bases of conformity to buy my least favourite condiment - 'Maybe Gravy' - spoiling meals since war rationing began – even then I doubt it was edible, yuk! Affordable nastiness us poor people convince ourselves tastes good because we can't see ourselves having the real thing, but the sad thing is, my Dad is a real great cook! He was the pub chef at our local up until big Kirsty had to close up; sad an all, but no excuse, he could pull off fresh gravy' she claimed in a rant.

'I really feel awkward coming to the high street and not visiting Ester these days. Same old route yet walking past the care home and going to the shops, I feel like I'm, neglecting, her? Possibly? Or missing out on something, yeah, missing out – you learn something new each day with Ester; I wish school was so interesting. Shame no visitors are allowed in during the 'the day of rest'' she thought.

'J's General though, how I hate this place too though' Hawnlica though upon arriving at her destination, entering and making a swift movement threw the isles, picks up her desired* item before making a beeline for the counter ahead.

"Just this" Hawnlica slammed the correct currency compliment with the printed RRP on the countertop before abruptly leaving.

'Another family of rip-off merchants, but at least this place is always packed and someone always calling them out on their scamming; wrong change and dodgy scales usually' she recalled.

Re-entering her home some short time later, Hawnlica's mouth became sensitive...

The essence of the roasting bird forced it to flood, her displeasure at the soon-to-be liquid grit in the tetrapak that would soon lampshade the entire feast, however, she was bought down to earth.

"Dad, what made you start cooking a chicken in the morning?" Hawnlica shouted threw the house

"You ought to see it, it's, massive, like a turkey or a goose or something" he replied inquisitively from the kitchen.

"Well what was it you bought?" she asked.

"I didn't buy it! It was on our doorstep with some weird, bandit-like note" he answered.

Hawnlica, who had now approached, looked on at her Dad dumbfound

"Not that I'm fussy and don't realise we're broke, but, you took in a slab of meat left on our doorstep?" she asked.

"It was in foil and on a fancy tray Hawnny" he sniped back whilst turning to face her "It was addressed to us, so we're having it" he added whilst pointing his thumb to the counter top were a tray resided, beside a piece of paper...

The teen promptly approached.

"Property of Era Gaze Residential" Hawnlica recited off the engraving on the floral tray 'I had my suspicious' Hawnlica though "What does that tell you Dad?"

"It came from Era Gaze, duh..." he replied whilst leaving the kitchen area to retreat to the living room

"Never mind" she muttered in response as she when on to quietly recite the note...

S-incerely yours Redand family

W-inter need not bring you woes

A-t her majesty's pleasure

N-ee E.Cho

"Doesn't the strange note make it obvious Dad? The shaky handwriting, artsy literature, the message in the poem, referencing Dad, it's obvious who gave us the, turkey..." Hawnlica trailed off seemingly confused.

"When did you start seeing that old battleaxe? I though you visited Ester?"

"What? Yeah, I do, that's probably why she treated us... What are you on about?" Hawnlica asked

"Nothing, just nothing, I just though Baara the battleaxe got social" He said.

"Great granny Baara" she asked.

"You know what, her surname's Cho, that's probably why I though that" he pondered "and she's in there now" he said.

"Since when?" an alarmed Hawnlica asked.

"Since, I don't know, a few years, longer than Ester. Anyway, anyway, on point, Ester's not sane, how'd she order gourmet food and where'd she get the dosh? That's like, some high end goose or something, never seen anything like it" he said.

Hawnlica took another look at the note "I've got a funny feeling about this, but this is Ester's doing".

"Don't think that loony old cripple did anything but sit in her chair the past few weeks" her dad said.

Hawnlica finally sat on the sofa beside her Dad's "But now, I have evidence that she's lucid so.."

"Hawn give it a rest! Get over it, you're obsessed! You're worst then you're mother going on about people at work – I'm not interested!" he snapped whilst running his fingers threw his matted mousey hair "Why don't you go out with your mates like you use to?" he offered in a mellow tone

Looking a little down, Hawnlica took her time to answer before quietly responding...

"Do you know what it's like to have friends who work when you don't? I can't afford a social life"

"You've got loads of friends Hawn', I couldn't even keep up with all their names" he replied.

"No one has loads of friends Dad" on that note, Hawnlica left; retiring to her room may as well sell off a few hours until dinner is done.

Will'o'Stars ©