Chapter Fifteen
Desmond refused to leave the house. He didn’t go food shopping, he didn’t go to the off-licence, and he didn’t go down the pub. He claimed he had a bad case of the trots and couldn’t be away from the toilet—a malady his brother immediately blamed on the ready-meals they’d been eating. Fortunately the Clarks still had a good enough supply of them on hand, since Vinnie wouldn’t go food shopping either. That had always been Desmond’s job, as were most things domestic in the Clark household. Vinnie had no issue with trips to the off-licence, however. If they ran out of food, they’d have enough lager to keep them alive until Boxing Day.
It wasn’t a lie that Desmond was suffering, but it wasn’t on account of anything he’d eaten. He was worried—worried and scared. Morning, after
