In a Place of Darkness

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God’s sake, why did everything have to be such a sodding... trial?

Kevin braced himself against the weight of far too many bags-for-life and struggled the car keys from his pocket — squinting in the septic streetlight to find the right button — then plipped the locks on the little Fiat 500 Douglas insisted they buy because it was so much cuter than a Range Rover, which would’ve been a hell of a lot more practical, thank you very much.

But would Douglas listen?

Of course he bloody wouldn’t.

It was the same with the house.

Not for them a nice cottage out in the country, with a big garden, a couple of spaniels, and a PERFECTLY PRACTICAL RANGE ROVER. Oh, they’d be so much happier in a two-up-two-down rabbit hutch in a cut-and-paste housing estate, in Blackwall Sodding Hill.

Bottles and jars clink-clanged against each other as Kevin lumbered up the short path, past the tiny rectangle of moss-infested grass.

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