“I’m worried about Anne, Tony.”
“Uhuh,” he replied, not really listening, his attention focused on his newspaper.
“Tony!”
Her voice commanded his immediate attention. He looked up.
“What?”
“I’m worried about Anne. She talks to herself.”
He smiled. “Lots of children do that, Liesel.”
“Yes I know,” she replied, “but there is something about it that bothers me.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t put my finger on it. Something is wrong.”
He reached over and took her hand.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s just a stage.”
She remained unconvinced but there was no point pursuing this with Tony who like most men had no concept of the irrational, valid or otherwise.
