Lucy's frown and suspicious stare made her look far older than her years. For a moment Harold wished they could have had a normal child but mentally kicked himself a moment later. Would he have been happy with a child unable to interact with the majority of the household? And what was normal, anyway?
“That's all right. I'll just ask Davy for another one.”
“The little man who brings my food.”
“Devious?” Harold squatted in front of his daughter. “He doesn't bring all your food, darling. Mummy and I bring you most of it.”
“Do you?” She wore the same suspicion. “I don't remember you doing that.”