It was so cold it made your gums shrink. The wind roared through where I'd smashed the glass in the kitchen door to get in and whipped my hair into my eyes. The boiler was faulty and I was doing his ironing just to keep warm. 'We'll be with you as soon as we can,' they said. But we had already waited over an hour. Not for the boiler man - it was too late for him. I'd washed up, put the bird food out and arranged the ironing board so I could watch his flock of willow tits fight and bicker in the snow. They were always his birds. Swish, swish, went the iron and I let my fingers linger on the warm fabric. A bit threadbare at the neck and the cuffs, but serviceable enough. It was one of his favourites. I caught him once, turning the collar. 'Young'uns don't know how to do this any more,' he'd said. 'Army training never hurt anyone.' It took me a moment or two to work out what he meant. Others showed me their medals - he just showed me his needlework. He gave up sewing after he had his stroke. It left him blind in one eye and weak as water on his left side, but he still fed his birds and the Council fed him. I let the hot cotton smell comfort me as I worked through shirts, handkerchiefs and vests, hanging them all carefully on the airer as I finished. The wind had dropped. The house creaked gently in the snow-quiet and I pushed my hands under my arms as I leaned on the draining board to watch the sky turn grey and heavy. A pheasant inched into the garden to take advantage of the spilled seed and was joined by a couple of dunnocks and a blackbird. When the first flakes fell fatly from a sky as blank as blotting paper, they all flew away. The knock at the front, when it came, made me start. I opened the door and an inquisitive snow-flurry swirled inside. 'Upstairs, is he?' they asked. I nodded and waited in the hall as they carried him out. "Good-bye," I said under my breath. I didn't really need to. I'd already told him earlier. I folded the last of his shirts and unplugged the iron. It was cool enough now to sit on the shelf. I like to have everything ship-shape and Bristol fashion, he'd often told me as we put things away in their proper places. Story laureate Sue Welfare writes: This story is wonderfully written. It is nicely paced and well structured. I think it has a nice sense of completeness and an emotionally satisfying shape. | 
