Empire of Ice Cream

The blanket wrapped round his legs and the warm glow still radiating from the island, Danker sat on the deck.

He thought about the walk along the windy beach, how they took it in turns to push the buggy. Little Walter clapping, hooting when they had set off the rocket from the top of the old lighthouse and sang Happy New Year in as many languages as they could remember. Hennig had even managed a toast in Norwegian.