The knock at the front door announc

The knock at the front door announced a visitor. The erraticness of the knock and the absence of a shape through the glass panes which made up the top third of the door suggested that it was a little visitor.

Phil Radcliffe and his wife Molly had lived in this crescent for almost three decades. When they had first moved here, their son and daughter were children and there were many other kids around, all of them happy to play in a street which had no through traffic and all of them knowing that they could call on any house for a friend or advice.

All these children were now grown up. Phil's son had graduated and was starting his career, while his daughter was now away at university. A new generation of families - much more ethnically diverse and with even more children - had moved into the crescent, but the geography of the place meant that the new kids also had fun in the street (although the bicycles were now more expensive) and the families still all knew one another so that the youngsters bounced from home to home looking for friends and entertainment.

Even Phil and Molly were regularly visited and, since all the parents knew and trusted each other, sometimes the youngsters would come in for a time. In the school holidays, Molly and Phil had even been known to take a couple of the children at a time to the local cinema to give some of the parents a break.

The knocking was repeated. It was half term and it was probably one of the kids. Phil didn't mind - it was just that he wasn't quite ready to receive visitors. Molly was already at work but, as a consultant often working from home, he could take things more easily and he was still having breakfast and hadn't even put on his glasses (he was seriously myopic without them).

Phil opened the door, looked down, and found a small boy of about 10, head down and face hidden, nose sniffling, obviously in some distress. "Come in", he gestured. "Take a seat in the living room. I'll be with you in a minute. I just need to get my glasses." He sped up the stairs, ran into the bedroom, and picked up his glasses from the bedside cabinet. That was better. Now the world was in focus and he could engage with people.

"Now then" Phil announced as he strode into the living room. "What's all this about?"

The young boy looked up, still tearful, and silently held his gaze. Phil was shaken to near paralysis. The boy had a strikingly familiar look and indeed appeared exactly like he himself had done about the point when he was moving from primary to secondary school. There was the pronounced anxiety in the grey-green eyes set in a pale and troubled face. He studied the boy more closely. There was the tuft of hair that would never lie completely flat and the small scar over the left eye as a result of a football accident when he was seven. How could this possibly be? Was he dreaming or ill? He felt disorientated and confused but also curious and, after a few moments, decided to simply surrender to the situation.

He had only been known as Phil once he went to university, so he tried addressing the boy as he himself would have been known at that age. "Philip", he asked hesitantly, "are you alright?"

The boy seemed perfectly relaxed about the appellation, but genuinely distraught by the inquiry. "Sorry, Mr Radcliffe" he sobbed. "My dad's just left home. He's not going to live with us any more. Mum's crying. It's made me cry. I don't think I'm going to see him again."

For Phil, this news exposed a palimpsest of raw memories, many of which he had chosen not to revisit for many years, others of which he had simply managed to forget. When his father had walked out, the emotional edifice of his young life had come crashing down and some of the pieces were still broken or even lost. But his father had kept in touch. He'd seen seen him regularly, if not always happily - often spending a couple of hours together seeing a film. Once the lights of the cinema went down, he forgot his troubles and lost himself totally in the events on that flickering screen.

Over the years, a series of figures had provided him with the sort of paternal support that he would have loved to have had from a father in residence: his favourite teacher who was always willing to talk to him in the schoolyard, the local trade union official at his first manufacturing job, his tutor when he eventually made it to university, a line manager who built up his confidence and gave him his first promotion.

Over time, something inevitable but, to him, strange had happened. As he became older, he himself increasingly became the paternal figure, not just to his own son and daughter, but later playing with nephews and nieces, mentoring young colleagues at work, and providing encouragement to the youngsters of friends and even some of the kids in the crescent.

Phil understood exactly how the boy in his living room was feeling. He sat down next to him and put a comforting arm around his heaving shoulders.
He tried to reas

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

Knock tại cửa trước công bố một khách truy cập. Erraticness knock và sự vắng mặt của một hình dạng thông qua tấm kính tạo thành 3 cửa, đầu đề nghị rằng nó đã là một ít người truy cập.Phil Radcliffe và vợ là Molly đã sống ở crescent này trong gần ba thập kỷ. Khi họ lần đầu tiên đã di chuyển ở đây, con trai và con gái của họ là trẻ em và đã có rất nhiều trẻ em khác xung quanh, tất cả đều vui vẻ để chơi trong một đường phố đã không thông qua giao thông và tất cả họ biết rằng họ có thể gọi vào bất kỳ nhà cho một người bạn hoặc tư vấn.Tất cả những trẻ em này bây giờ đã phát triển. Con trai của Phil đã tốt nghiệp và đã bắt đầu sự nghiệp của mình, trong khi con gái của ông là bây giờ lập tức tại trường đại học. Một thế hệ mới của gia đình - đa dạng sắc tộc nhiều hơn nữa và con nhiều hơn - đã chuyển vào crescent, nhưng địa lý nơi có nghĩa rằng những đứa trẻ mới cũng đã vui vẻ trên đường phố (mặc dù các loại xe đạp bây giờ đã đắt tiền hơn) và các gia đình vẫn còn tất cả biết nhau vì vậy mà các thanh niên trả về từ nhà đến nhà tìm kiếm bạn bè và giải trí.Ngay cả Phil và Molly đã được truy cập thường xuyên, và kể từ khi tất cả các bậc cha mẹ biết và tin cậy lẫn nhau, đôi khi các cầu thủ trẻ sẽ đến trong một thời gian. Trong những ngày nghỉ học, Molly và Phil đã thậm chí được biết để có một cặp vợ chồng trẻ em tại một thời điểm trong rạp chiếu phim địa phương để cung cấp cho một số các bậc phụ huynh một break.The knocking was repeated. It was half term and it was probably one of the kids. Phil didn't mind - it was just that he wasn't quite ready to receive visitors. Molly was already at work but, as a consultant often working from home, he could take things more easily and he was still having breakfast and hadn't even put on his glasses (he was seriously myopic without them).Phil opened the door, looked down, and found a small boy of about 10, head down and face hidden, nose sniffling, obviously in some distress. "Come in", he gestured. "Take a seat in the living room. I'll be with you in a minute. I just need to get my glasses." He sped up the stairs, ran into the bedroom, and picked up his glasses from the bedside cabinet. That was better. Now the world was in focus and he could engage with people."Now then" Phil announced as he strode into the living room. "What's all this about?"The young boy looked up, still tearful, and silently held his gaze. Phil was shaken to near paralysis. The boy had a strikingly familiar look and indeed appeared exactly like he himself had done about the point when he was moving from primary to secondary school. There was the pronounced anxiety in the grey-green eyes set in a pale and troubled face. He studied the boy more closely. There was the tuft of hair that would never lie completely flat and the small scar over the left eye as a result of a football accident when he was seven. How could this possibly be? Was he dreaming or ill? He felt disorientated and confused but also curious and, after a few moments, decided to simply surrender to the situation.He had only been known as Phil once he went to university, so he tried addressing the boy as he himself would have been known at that age. "Philip", he asked hesitantly, "are you alright?"The boy seemed perfectly relaxed about the appellation, but genuinely distraught by the inquiry. "Sorry, Mr Radcliffe" he sobbed. "My dad's just left home. He's not going to live with us any more. Mum's crying. It's made me cry. I don't think I'm going to see him again."For Phil, this news exposed a palimpsest of raw memories, many of which he had chosen not to revisit for many years, others of which he had simply managed to forget. When his father had walked out, the emotional edifice of his young life had come crashing down and some of the pieces were still broken or even lost. But his father had kept in touch. He'd seen seen him regularly, if not always happily - often spending a couple of hours together seeing a film. Once the lights of the cinema went down, he forgot his troubles and lost himself totally in the events on that flickering screen.Over the years, a series of figures had provided him with the sort of paternal support that he would have loved to have had from a father in residence: his favourite teacher who was always willing to talk to him in the schoolyard, the local trade union official at his first manufacturing job, his tutor when he eventually made it to university, a line manager who built up his confidence and gave him his first promotion.Over time, something inevitable but, to him, strange had happened. As he became older, he himself increasingly became the paternal figure, not just to his own son and daughter, but later playing with nephews and nieces, mentoring young colleagues at work, and providing encouragement to the youngsters of friends and even some of the kids in the crescent.Phil understood exactly how the boy in his living room was feeling. He sat down next to him and put a comforting arm around his heaving shoulders.He tried to reas