Chapter Twenty-Four
Cocolder Again
The good ol’ days when we used to play “I can punch harder than you” . . .
By the time Steven had arrived, the two sisters had given up pushing and were now charging about like football players. Janice was at her “wits end,” while most of Mum’s entourage had disappeared, persuaded to leave with a free naan and Cocolder’s grim stance.
Cocolder had not only remembered Mum but reminded her of why he had, to quote Mum, “put the kibosh on her driving” and Mum was riled to the point that even George could not control her.
“You should be shot,” she snapped, ignoring the toot of the Glasgow bus.
“Shot, I hardly think so,” said Cocolder coolly.
“What you did to me was a . . . discrimination, a discrimination against the disabled.”
Cocolder began to describ
