In the Pattersons" orderly back garden Red opened the door of his father"s tool shed. He stood among watering cans, hedge shears, hoes and spades, staring at the rifle in his hands. He loathed the sight of the weapon, as if it was the harbinger of his moral disintegration.
He had to get rid of it. He wrapped it in sacking and thrust it into a far corner. Then he buried it behind bundles of strawberry netting and a stack of old seed trays.
It was gone – simple as that. He wouldn"t have to think of the business with Raggy ever again.
Unless someone asked.
But he had his story clear in his mind.
It was a straightforward story, with no chance of anyone disproving it.
So it was over. Completely and totally over. And life, for those who still had one, would go on…
He leaned his back again
