Not just tea and biscuits - a short story

This is a short story I wrote a number of years ago.  It is from my first collection of short stories and has been broadcast on Two Lochs radio in their Westwords programme. 

 
Afternoons in the Brown household were generally given over to drawing spaceships.  Barry tended to do intricate scale diagrams of complicated designs.  Charlie’s efforts were usually brightly coloured, with birds and animals added for decorative effect.  Daphne worked diligently, doing complex calculations concerning power outputs, thruster positions and light year estimations. Every evening, the three siblings would compare notes, pinning their efforts onto a board and pointing out special features.  Finishing a spaceship drawing was something none of them had ever achieved.  George, their father and inspiration, was long dead.  He had been a technician at the local spaceship factory and harboured desires of going to Mars one day.
“If only we could get someone to build one of these, to see if it worked!” Daphne said one winter’s evening, her mouth full of tea and bourbon biscuit.
“Just let me make some phone calls,” said Barry, brushing custard cream crumbs from his Arran jumper. 
“Knit one, we could knit one!” shouted Charlie, waving his arms around, a jammie dodger in each hand.  Lovingly, his siblings smiled at him and then at each other.
“Maybe, Charlie, maybe,” Daphne said, gently.
“No, really, I saw a pattern in last month’s “Novelty Knitting for Novices”.  Only snag is how many balls of wool we’d need; I think it was two and a half million of blue and one and a half million of white.”
“Perhaps we should see how Barry gets on with his phone calls,” said Daphne quietly, watching Barry pick up the phone and dial.
“Question for you.  Richard, on the funding front.  Spaceship project; some fabulous designers have a terrific plan.  Time to get up to date and move into new sectors, eh?”
Until that moment, neither Daphne nor Charlie had any inkling that Barry was on nodding terms with Sir Richard.  Very soon after, the call concluded and Barry was grinning from ear to ear.
“We’ve got a deal; he fell for it hook line and sinker!  Extra income from our pension payouts next month will make up the balance.”
“You’re a genius, Barry!” cried Daphne and Charlie.
“Zog, here we come!” shouted the three grey-haired siblings, waving slices of Victoria sponge in celebration.