My entry is late this week as I have been in writing workshops and have some deadlines to meet. Did the picture change from the one posted on Wednesday?
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Gripping the lectern, anxiety tugged at her insides.
“ My parents owned a pub…” Verity started.
“ It wasn’t the best upbringing, they were always at work.”
People were listening, the lecture hall, almost silent. Verity plucked up courage, abandoned her notes, looked up at the expectant audience.
“ I knew they loved me because they displayed my art on a wall in the bar. It was still there years later when they sold the pub. It was the reason the buyers wanted it, they assumed my parents had a young family and wanted to get out of the game quickly.”