Chapter Thirteen
I grip the steering so tightly my knuckles show white. Of all times, don’t you do this to me now! Sadly the car doesn’t listen to me, there is still this terrible screeching sound coming from the engine when I turn the key, but nothing further. It won’t b****y start.
After the s**t day I’ve had, with yet further positions hanging in the balance at work, the last thing I need is a big repair bill. I check my watch, quarter past six. Damn, at this rate, I’ll be late as well.
Peter has been doing his best to vacate his London flat, selling off most of his stuff and storing the rest of it in my garage. A life makeover, he calls it. He wants to rid himself of reminders of his old life, in order to make room for the new. Tonight he’s finally coming back with the last load of
