Chapter Eighty-Seven
The sound of breaking glass at the front of the farmhouse woke Morris Hackett with a start. He turned on his light, noting the time: 03:46. The sound of laughter followed by a truck driving away at high speed told him all he needed to know. “Damn it! Not again.”
Morris flung back the warm duvet and sat up, his legs dangling over the bed. His wife, Yvette joined him on her feet getting dressed.
“On Christmas morning, Morris? This has got to stop. We need to either take them up on their offer, or you need to sort this.”
She wasn’t wrong. The construction company buying up farms surrounding them meant business. There were only two properties preventing them from starting their project, his and his next door neighbour’s. “I’ll sort it, I told you.”
The bedroom door op
